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Authors: Marla Miniano
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come here.
“No, silly,” he laughs.
“Remember my cousin Enzo?”
“Wow, really, he’s
coming? That’s great!” I gush, sounding convincingly enthusiastic. The truth
is, I do remember Enzo, but very vaguely, and only because when I was ten, I
attended his thirteenth birthday party and he spilled grape juice on my brand
new white canvas sneakers and made me cry. I still think he did it on purpose.
“Yep,” he says. “He
wants to check out the gimmick scene, and maybe hit the beach. And of course,
he can’t wait to see you again. You can go with us naman , right?”
“Absolutely,” I
promise, keeping a straight face . “ It sounds fun.” In my head, I say in
flawless Alex Band imitation, This is my calling: I’ll go wherever you will go,
babe .
When I read the new comments on my site, I am not surprised that most
of them are about Queenie Cooper. Apparently, she brought Nathan to her
friend’s formal debut as her date, and photos of the two of them dressed to the
nines and partying the night away in an expensive club are posted for everyone
to see on her Multiply page.
This is an
outrage, Chrissy! She is not even half the girl you are. Oh well. It’s Nathan’s
loss.
I am
intrigued. What does Nathan see in her? I mean, I know she’s gorgeous and
popular and everything. But I always thought he saw beyond all that—I
never thought he could be so superficial.
For lack of a
more original derogatory term, let us call her a Ho-Bag. She doesn’t even
deserve a more creative insult. So not worth your time or tears. We’re rooting
for you, Chrissy.
I reply, Hey, everyone.
It’s nice to know that you’ve all got my back, and that you all think Queenie Cooper
pales in comparison to me. I appreciate your comments because I know you are
just trying to make me feel better. But let’s cut Nathan some slack. I’m sure
he likes Queenie Cooper for a reason; maybe she has some secret redeeming
quality that won him over. Whatever. I couldn’t care less, really. Thanks,
guys. I love you all.
You see what I just did
right there? I approached the issue in a very straightforward, objective
manner. I just told them off for being mean to Queenie Cooper, and I was very
diplomatic about it, too. Queenie Cooper should be thanking me for this. (Yes,
in case you haven’t noticed, she is one of those people whose full names you
have to keep calling them by.) You’re welcome, Queenie Cooper. Take good care
of Nathan, okay?
Rule number 8:
Pay attention to technicalities.
“Dude!” Nico exclaims , slapping a tall, very handsome boy several
times on the back. It is past five AM on a Friday holiday, and it feels like
we’ve been standing outside the airport waiting for hours. Enzo has toned arms
and muscular legs, striking eyes framed by perfect eyebrows, wavy dark brown
hair pulled back in a ponytail, lips that can totally bag him a Chapstick ad,
and caramel skin that, from where I stand, looks like it has no pores and produces
zero oil. In short, this guy is way prettier than me. Hello, insecurity. Fancy
running into you here.
He
slaps Nico on the back too, then turns to me. “Hello, Chrissy,” he says,
smiling his megawatt smile at me. “It is so nice seeing you again.” He says
this like we are long-lost friends, but he offers his hand for me to shake like
we are complete strangers meeting each other for the first time. His piercing
stare and solid grip make me uncomfortable, and I hope Nico doesn’t notice that
my cheeks are burning. I pull my hand away and compose myself enough to be able
to blurt out, “Hi, Enzo. Welcome to the Philippines!”
Enzo laughs. “Still
funny, huh?” I think, when was I ever funny to you? We don’t know each other well
enough for you to be able to say that I am “still” funny, or “still” anything,
actually. I really do not remember having any other form of interaction with
him aside from
come here.
“No, silly,” he laughs.
“Remember my cousin Enzo?”
“Wow, really, he’s
coming? That’s great!” I gush, sounding convincingly enthusiastic. The truth
is, I do remember Enzo, but very vaguely, and only because when I was ten, I
attended his thirteenth birthday party and he spilled grape juice on my brand
new white canvas sneakers and made me cry. I still think he did it on purpose.
“Yep,” he says. “He
wants to check out the gimmick scene, and maybe hit the beach. And of course,
he can’t wait to see you again. You can go with us naman , right?”
“Absolutely,” I
promise, keeping a straight face . “ It sounds fun.” In my head, I say in
flawless Alex Band imitation, This is my calling: I’ll go wherever you will go,
babe .
When I read the new comments on my site, I am not surprised that most
of them are about Queenie Cooper. Apparently, she brought Nathan to her
friend’s formal debut as her date, and photos of the two of them dressed to the
nines and partying the night away in an expensive club are posted for everyone
to see on her Multiply page.
This is an
outrage, Chrissy! She is not even half the girl you are. Oh well. It’s Nathan’s
loss.
I am
intrigued. What does Nathan see in her? I mean, I know she’s gorgeous and
popular and everything. But I always thought he saw beyond all that—I
never thought he could be so superficial.
For lack of a
more original derogatory term, let us call her a Ho-Bag. She doesn’t even
deserve a more creative insult. So not worth your time or tears. We’re rooting
for you, Chrissy.
I reply, Hey, everyone.
It’s nice to know that you’ve all got my back, and that you all think Queenie Cooper
pales in comparison to me. I appreciate your comments because I know you are
just trying to make me feel better. But let’s cut Nathan some slack. I’m sure
he likes Queenie Cooper for a reason; maybe she has some secret redeeming
quality that won him over. Whatever. I couldn’t care less, really. Thanks,
guys. I love you all.
You see what I just did
right there? I approached the issue in a very straightforward, objective
manner. I just told them off for being mean to Queenie Cooper, and I was very
diplomatic about it, too. Queenie Cooper should be thanking me for this. (Yes,
in case you haven’t noticed, she is one of those people whose full names you
have to keep calling them by.) You’re welcome, Queenie Cooper. Take good care
of Nathan, okay?
Rule number 8:
Pay attention to technicalities.
“Dude!” Nico exclaims , slapping a tall, very handsome boy several
times on the back. It is past five AM on a Friday holiday, and it feels like
we’ve been standing outside the airport waiting for hours. Enzo has toned arms
and muscular legs, striking eyes framed by perfect eyebrows, wavy dark brown
hair pulled back in a ponytail, lips that can totally bag him a Chapstick ad,
and caramel skin that, from where I stand, looks like it has no pores and produces
zero oil. In short, this guy is way prettier than me. Hello, insecurity. Fancy
running into you here.
He
slaps Nico on the back too, then turns to me. “Hello, Chrissy,” he says,
smiling his megawatt smile at me. “It is so nice seeing you again.” He says
this like we are long-lost friends, but he offers his hand for me to shake like
we are complete strangers meeting each other for the first time. His piercing
stare and solid grip make me uncomfortable, and I hope Nico doesn’t notice that
my cheeks are burning. I pull my hand away and compose myself enough to be able
to blurt out, “Hi, Enzo. Welcome to the Philippines!”
Enzo laughs. “Still
funny, huh?” I think, when was I ever funny to you? We don’t know each other well
enough for you to be able to say that I am “still” funny, or “still” anything,
actually. I really do not remember having any other form of interaction with
him aside from
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