In Grade 12, I finally dared to join the dance troupe. Could you believe it? Me joining a dance troupe?

"I didn't know you dance," said Gaby, one of my classmates who's a member of the dance troupe when I showed up at the audition. First, we had to present our own dance routine and the next day they would let us join their rehearsals.

I asked Gaby if she could be my partner and she said, "Sure."

We warmed up, did countless jumping jacks, stretched our legs to split, and did dance routines until everyone in school was going home. After another hour, I couldn't breathe and my whole body hurt. My vision disappeared; my eyes were wide open but all I saw was darkness. 

I could hear them offering me water, someone shove a sweet bar in my mouth, from what I heard, it was chocolate. I still couldn't see anything but I felt my foot stepping down the stairs of the stage. I blinked my eyes firmly and when I opened them, I thought I was back in our school, in Santa Villeta, catching my breath, chasing Mix. But I was only outside the gym, sitting on the bench next to Gaby. 

She asked me if I'd recovered. I said yes.

"Do you still want to join the dance troupe?" She asked me and I nodded.

"Sure?"

"Yes, I want to."

"The reason why we hold auditions and push them to their limits is because that's what we do every day, sometimes it's even more exhausting. If you give up at the start, you're not deserving. You made it this far, so congrats!"

"I'm willing to. I know I could find something here, whether it's to prove myself or try something new..."

"Great! Then expect your name on the list," Gaby said as she left to let me breathe some more air.

I did pass! Our first rehearsal reminded me of when I was always at the back, dancing Zumba at the plaza with my mother. When I told her about it she was proud of me because she used to be a dancer herself. I also remember the first time I danced in front of people. 

Things were going smoothly but I found out that no matter how gracefully they move, the words they said at each other's back were far from graceful. 

I overheard, "Her big nose got all her height." 

"Have you smelled his feet?" 

"When will she ever learn to shave her armpits?" 

"She's getting too fat; do you think she's pregnant?" "

I wondered if they were saying something behind my back too so I tried to blend in. But in one of our practices, we were required a white sando. I wore double because I wasn't comfortable showing my skin. Then one of them asked, "Why are you wearing a bra?"

They laughed, "You're gay, aren't you?"

They wouldn't ask me like I was used to, they would only label me like they own me. My No's were ineffective to them. The more I denied it, the more they said, "Yup he's confirmed." But I let it pass.

Looking up our schedule posted on the bulletin board one afternoon, someone poked a finger up my but. I let it pass.

After rehearsals, we had an open forum and they would let us open up. One by one they spoke up but I only said, "I don't have a problem, I'm just here to be happy." 

In truth, I didn't feel safe with them and I should've been more cautious with all of them.

In our third or fourth performance, everyone was doing make-up for each other, except me. I looked at my bare face in the mirror then someone asked, "Aren't you going to have make-up on?"

I shrugged. "I've got this far without make-up."

"You know our previous dance teacher said, if you're going to have a performance, you need to be presentable."

"I'll be fine."

When the show was about to start, I was in the rehearsal room, still without a make-up on

The dance troupe president, Kuya Bret came in and said, "The show's about to start."

"I'll be there in a minute."

I'll fix your face, he said and he let me sit on the chair in front of a mirror.

"Do you like it?" Kuya Bret asked after doing make-up on me.

"Yes."

My uneven eyebags were unnoticeable and I seemed to have gotten younger a couple of years. He cupped his hands on my shoulder and I flinched as he rubbed it sensually but I felt almost confident enough to push through the whole year. 

I had no bonding with my friends anymore, they only said they'll be watching my performances but they never came. I had to sneak into my classes because of OB or official business. We practice until seven, sometimes eight, and they seemed to have an eye on me because I always got scolded. 

I would go home exhausted and catch up with missed lessons. Every day. Then one by one, the auditionees left the dance troupe until I was the only one left. Sometimes, I would walk home alone and cry to myself. I didn't know why but I knew I wanted to quit.

When we danced for the program for Valentine's Day, I thought like every rom-com movie that ends with a song number, I would realize something that would make me stay. That what I believed was true and I would find happiness there. The last thing I wanted was to be proven wrong. I hoped something would change, but sometimes things are just the way it is.

On my birthday, It's the same as last year. I came home and my mother was waiting for me with a small cake already lit. And I had just enough time to run to my room before I cried.

After a while, she knocked on my door and in her most soothing voice, she said, "Uly? Do you want me to talk with you?

I wiped my tears and opened the door, "Sorry, Ma."

"What is it?" she asked and hugged me. "Tell me."

We sat on my bed, waiting for the words to come out. "It's just I started losing my friends, that's all." But she knew best. "In exchange for something I thought I would be happy."

"Is this about the dance troupe?"

"I did try," I sniffled, "I really tried and it's been really hard."

She held both of my hands and told me, "At ages sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen, you lose friends, make mistakes, fall, or fail. You may be hit by reality, frustration, loneliness, insecurities, heartbreaks. That's the age they say life gives you the questions before the lessons. What you're feeling right now will only make you grow stronger." 

She wiped my tears. I was looking down because I couldn't face her. I didn't want her to see me crying.

"Growth and change are painful," my mother added, "but nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong. If you're not happy with what you're doing, what's the point? Remember, Uly, do something that will make you happy because only when you follow your heart can you feel true happiness."

I hugged her and cried in her arms that night. Then after my tears dried, I said, "Ma, I think it's time to tell you that...that I'm not like the other kids."

I was carefully picking my words but she smiled at me with an all-knowing smile. 

"I've known it."

"You do?" My voice faltered, "Have you told dad?"

"No, of course not."

"Ayaw kitang pangunahan, I want to take things on your own time."

"Thank you, Ma."

"Even if the world turned upside down, you're still my son."

"But I still like girls, don't worry, I still plan on having kids."

"Whatever you choose in life, I will always be proud of you."

From that day forward, I wanted to scream it to the world. I started confessing to everyone close to me and they accepted me. If you have the right friends, they will accept you. I thought, If the world could just be a little bit sooner to accept us, I wouldn't have let him go.

I felt like a side character again but I was fine with it. How else could you move forward? But step by step, little by little. I was glad to be inside the classroom again. I missed the back row, the warning of our teachers to go back to our proper seats, the lessons, the pretentious raising of hands so that we wouldn't get called and even the late homeroom sessions.

I wanted to fall in love.

We were eating at our usual spot in the carinderia, when I asked Ryan, "Do you know the meaning of the word 'Sonder'?"

"What's that?"

I pointed to one of the customers, "Life is not always about being the main character. No matter how insignificant they may seem, they're living a life just like you and me. It's the harsh reality that you're not special."

"You're really smart, you know."

No. No I'm not.

I quit the dance group that same day and I told Kuya Bret, our president, about why I'm leaving.

 "I wasn't happy."

But what I really wanted to say was, "Someone harassed me."

He then said, "Sorry to let you go, but I hope I can still see you around."

I was glad I made that decision. It was as if something was telling me to live my life and it was right. I did have at most. At the right moment, at the right time. And I was glad I got to spend more time with my friends before the whole world was locked away.