I'll be your furniture

ALTHOUGH WE HAVE THE AFTERNOONS all to ourselves, waking up as early as four a.m. takes its toll on our sleeping routines. We'd arrive at school with bloodshot eyes or heavy drooling mouths. Consequently, my ears became too sensitive to the blare of my alarm.

One day I accidentally set it to two a.m. instead of four o'clock in the morning. It had happened when I was assigned to open our classroom in 9th Grade because my house was the nearest, literally just a few steps away. After all, it's in the same street. I didn't notice how it was still so dark since that was when I usually go to school back in Grade 8.

Light posts were still lit, Mizzus' carenderia and the stalls in between the two campuses were still closed, and the only difference at that time was the school gate wasn't open. I waited at the cobbled seat outside by the wrought iron gate, and it took me an hour to realize the sky did not brighten as I expected. Once I saw movement, I knew the guard was awake. I immediately asked him if I could come in but he told me to go home because it's just a quarter past three!

Being punctual felt like it's one of those things that I was good at. I did not hate waking up early, unlike most kids did. Additionally, I used to have a motto, "If you start early, you can finish many." I even recited that when we had our lesson about "If-then hypotheses" in algebra. If you start early, then you can finish many.

But when I went home that morning, I accidentally fell asleep. To make matters worse, I missed a lot of quizzes and activities that I had to comply with for the following weeks. Ergo, from that measly mistake, I became afraid I would always miss something.

Thanks to the school administration, they managed to ransack our well-being and our parents just agreed to it. You'd be surprised how enduring the townsfolk in Santa Villeta were.

You see, our mayor sat in his position for more than twenty years. Despite his evident corruption of power, no one complained about it. They gladly fell into submission as long as there's an incentive, or they could continue their little provincial lives.

Mutually, the shifting of classes continued when we advanced to Grade 9. We were supposed to be taking classes in the afternoon but ended up getting stuck in the morning shift. Again, we had to do our classes in one quick streak, and always after that was the tempting siesta of the afternoon.

Our initial room in Grade 9 was situated on the 2nd floor of the two-story building in the Main Campus. I was almost always the first one to settle on my seat before the sunlight voyeurs inside our classroom. But the view outside on the balcony was invariably pristine for the Main Campus was renovated first.

Two basketball poles stood on the gravel ground like the same court at the plaza. New buildings with green roofs and snow-white walls: the three-story of the Grade 7's and 10's, which paralleled our room, and the L-shaped of our building, semi-circling the east side of the quadrangle.

At the start of the school year, we have to get to know each other, with the new teachers and transferees, but the majority of us had been classmates for the previous years. As those years passed, it would be natural for us to treat each other like we're one big family. Instead, we began to separate by groups-or what we called circle of friends.

Blinkey made our own group called Zhiro, (pronounced like zero) but nobody took it seriously since our only common interest was "anime." I remember Blinkey wanted us to call her "Blank" and we let her be the leader of the group. Speaking of nicknames, they called me "Uly or Ul," short for Ulysess. "Son," for Crimson. And his best friend Mix. I rarely called him by any name and he never called me back any because we're not yet close back then.

We also recruited Arvin and Van who were always mistaken to be twins since they're always together. Aside from my affinity for anime, anyone would want to choose a boat to climb aboard in highschool. And there was Crimson in that group too. Of course, he's always the reason for most of my decisions that time.

We need not slit our palms or thumbs to establish our brotherhood. Soon enough we're already going home together. Sometimes I'd walk them to the toda or tricycle stop. And no matter how many rocks we put in each other's bags as pranks or rapped each other's head when we saw a bald man and say "Pendong Peace" with peace signs on our hands, it only made us closer.

But we've never went to school together considering that they all lived in far-flung barangays. Though sometimes, I would wait for them on the balcony of our room, then our daily routine would start.

The same morning routine when Arvin and Van would help our adviser, who's always craning her neck to the two students, with her belongings. Crimson would presently arrive when the sun painted the school grounds and several students began to gather on the quadrangle. He would seldom join me to stand by the balcony and wait for the others until the bell rings for the flag ceremony.

Occasionally he'd give me a hug around the neck, which is all boys could do since the world doesn't let them hug by their chests, unlike women who are even allowed to kiss by their cheeks.

Depending on who came first, Arvin, Van or Mix, who was now the tallest among all of us, would always jump to reach the net of the basketball ring and raise his middle finger to Crimson. Yelling "Pakyu!" An accented version of the f-word.

Maybe a teacher would hear him and take him to the office before he can reach the stairs, but they didn't care. It would seem rude if others saw him do it or if someone did that to them. But it's just an often played, well-loved greeting between those two best friends.

Truth be told, I envied that about them. Especially when Mix changed his cover photo on Facebook where they both have a Snapchat dog filter, which, back then, only couples usually did.

I can be rude too. I wondered if it was rude enough just to interrupt their conversation when we're in line at the flag ceremony.

"I know what your soap is." They were talking and I said that to Crimson to distract him.

Crimson turned his back to Mix and asked, "What?".

"Basta!" I'd tease. "It reminds me of a smell that makes me want to puke!"

In most cases, he would make a poker face, then he'd smile, and eventually laugh at how dumb it was. But just like that, I had his attention away from Mix and I loved it when I'm the one who makes him laugh.

Maybe it was rude enough to keep pretending to him. Because I could lie to him face to face yet I couldn't tell him that he's my favorite smell, and I couldn't tell him I was jealous how Mix was closer to him than me.

After the flag ceremony, the temporary liveliness of the crowd woul dissipate and the drowsiness would return once we're back inside the classroom. During breaks, we'd recruite more of our classmates to join our group, including Jerome who was heartbroken at that time, and Marcus-one of the transferees.

Our hangout place, aside from the Plaza, became the 7-11 store. Often, we'd talk about our homework about quadratic equations and other topics-mostly about girls. Blinkey could relate about that more than me. But I didn't care, I couldn't. I just felt the satisfaction of me just being there with them.

_____

At least once a month, there were programs for each of our departments but my favorite was the annual Intramurals. Although I wouldn't get involved in any activities, I still loved it because of vacant periods. If we're allowed to stay inside our rooms, someone would bring a deck of cards and one second later our room would transform into a casino (no money involved).

I can still remember the rules Crimson delivered when he taught me how to play "Pusoy Dos." About the single cards, the pairs, trios, "quadros," five cards and the highest number was the two of diamonds and the lowest was the three of cloves.

And sometimes, we'd throw those cards at each other like that scene from "Now you see me 2." Then the cards would fly to our faces like we want to slice our ears or dent our noses so you can find cards in every corner of our room. In the ceiling, in the walls, and on our teacher's table.

But I like it most when we're sitting in our entrepreneurship class. When Crimson and I were sitting next to each other because we could choose wherever we sit in that class.

Everything's calm and unobtrusive on those mornings. When he'd get comfortable, Crimson would anchor his thigh on mine and our legs would cuddle.

When I pressed my thigh on his, my heart would flutter because he wouldn't remove it-as though he also wanted me to do it. And sometimes when we're horseplaying he'd sit on top of me or I on top of him. Then a quiet contentment would penetrate through my bones because he won't push me away or tell me I'm heavy.

It's one of those things I prayed for each day. Let the cards we threw be infinite and the moments we played be timeless. I wanted him to know how it's fine with me to be his pillow or his bed, his vase where he could put how many rocks he can, or even a door frame where he could hang on me like it's my only purpose.

"Am I heavy," he'd ask.
"No, not at all," I'd say, feigning a hint of arrogance.

Was I asking too much if all I wanted was his touch, the proximity of our bodies, as if readying for a passionate kiss? "Put me in your home, use me when you need me, any way you want," was what I meant to tell him. "At least I know I can be of use to you, Crimson."

Thus, that sunny afternoon, when we got our scores in our first quarter exams. I was perusing the stalls on each side of the road while he was looking down, kicking pebbles. Crimson rarely cared about his grades but he rather seemed sulky.

I wanted to give him a piece of advice that I've also read, surprisingly in an algebra book, saying, "If you try to force a smile, then your mind will start to believe that you're happy." But I knew when jolly people like him got sad, it's something serious.

"You alright?" I asked, but then he asked me back almost spontaneously, "What's that smell?" with his nose in the air.

A succulent aroma came from the Mizzus' Carenderia and he asked me again, "What do you smell?"

"I think it's chicken curry."

"Right?" he started smiling as he said, "That's my favorite!

"Come on," I said. " My treat!" and soon we're both smiling.

I knew it was his favorite dish. He always spoke of it or ask about it in the stalls whenever we ate lunch at school. I also remember how he used to say: Food always tastes better when it's free.

Oh, I would treat him every day even if the only thing I'd get from it was a chance that we could drink in the same glass of water. Perhaps I've allowed myself to live like the people in Santa Villetta. With just a small incentive, I was already falling into submission.