His mom handed him back thesheet. “Now, when did you get so smart?” Smoothing back Caleb’shair, she smiled. “Chopin got me craving Christmas food. Want to goto Pering’s?”
* * *
Chopin’s nostalgia magichad worked on Caleb, too. As his mom drove, he was reminded of onerainy drive to the beach with his parents. Caleb had distractedhimself from motion sickness by watching the raindrops Caleb haddistracted himself from motion sickness by watching the raindropsstreak across the pane like shooting stars. That day, the raindropshad kept him from throwing up.
“So,” his mom said, shakinghim out of his reverie. “Driving lessons this summer? Only a fewmore months before you turn eighteen.”
Caleb grinnedmischievously. “Will you buy me a new car?”
His mom pointed to theodometer on the dashboard. “That’s the distance the car hastraveled in ten years. You don’t need a new car. This one’s almostas good as new.”
It was true. His mom onlyused the car to and from her office. Ever since his dad haddisappeared from their lives, they had never driven out oftown.
“I might have thatmasterclass this summer, remember?”
“I’m sure we can stillsqueeze in the driving lessons,” his mom assured him as she easedthe car into a parking spot.
Without bothering with anumbrella, Caleb sprinted out of the car and into the small café.Pering’s was empty except for the man behind the counter. Uponseeing the customers, he took off his earphones and greetedthem.
“Puto bumbongand hot chocolate, please,” Caleb’s mom told thecashier before turning to her son. “How about you,mahal?”
“Same, please.”
Minutes later, the foodarrived at their table. Feeling like he was opening his Christmaspresent, Caleb carefully unwrapped the banana leaf on his plate.Inside were the thick purple strips of puto bumbong glistening with meltedbutter. Immediately, Caleb dumped the contents of the small bowlsof muscovado andgrated coconut onto the rice cakes.
When he took his firstbite, Caleb leaned back and closed his eyes. A slow sip of his hotchocolate made the whole meal perfect.
“I know Father Mon alreadyasked you, but just between us, Caleb,”—his mom pausedhesitantly—“do you have a girlfriend?”
Caleb choked on his drink.Caught in a coughing fit, he signaled for water to thecashier.
“Aha, so thereis a girl.” His momwaved her fork in the air. “You looked so guilty when Father Monasked you. Is it the girl you’re always with? The one with thechameleon hair? Every time I see her, her hair’s a differentcolor!”
Caleb opened his mouth toreply, but his mom wasn’t finished yet. “I won’t keep you fromhaving a girlfriend, but I was hoping you would at least tellme!”
“Ma!” Caleb shot out,holding up a hand. “Ginny is notmy girlfriend, okay? She is just a friend.”
As he downed his glass ofwater, Caleb could still feel the weight of his mom’s stare.Finally, she spoke up. “Okay. But if ever you have a girlfriend,promise not to keep it from me.” She raised the cup to her lips,still pressed into a thin line. “I never ever want to be the last toknow.”
“Fine,” Caleb replied, hisvoice hard.
He was glad when they hadboth finished their food. They were just getting up when someoneburst into the café, letting in the sound of gushing rain. The newcustomer threw back her pink hoodie and shook out her wavyhair.
Caleb immediatelyrecognized her. What was she doinghere? He held his breath and stoodstock-still, as if these actions would render himinvisible.
“Oh, my gosh! Hi!” thegirl exclaimed, rushing to their table. “I haven’t seen you inages!” When she saw Caleb’s mom, she released a disarming smile.“Good afternoon po.”
Caleb scrambled to recoverhis wits. “Ma, this is Tara.” He hastily added, “A friend fromschool.”
Tara gave him a look ofmock surprise. “We’re friends?” She thrust out her lower lip. “Ifwe’re friends, then why did you quit Wordplay?”
“Word . . .play?”
Caleb watched as his momtook it all in: Tara’s tousled hair cascading down one side of herface, her friendly smile, her dress cinched tight at the slenderwaist. With a sinking feeling, Caleb saw the slow dawning ofapproval in his mother’s eyes.
“It’s a group that writesand performs poetry,” Tara explained.
His mom turned to him,eyebrows raised. “Why, Caleb, I had no idea.” She leaned closer toTara in a conspiratorial manner. “But I understand why my son quit.He’s the first freshman to be recommended for the piano masterclassthis summer. Between practicing and academics, I don’t think he hastime for anything else!”
Tara’s eyes grew round.“Gosh, I know Caleb is crazy talented. But that’s . . . that’s justcrazy awesome!”
As his mom and Tara gushedabout his talent, Caleb could almost hear that foreboding part ofChopin’s Raindrop. Dun-dun-dun-dun.The note rumbled in his ear likethunder.
“Caleb?”
In a daze, he jerked hishead to his mom.
“I think you can afford totake a break next weekend. It’s not right for you to be glued toyour piano seat the whole day.”
“Huh?”
Tara’s tinkling laughtergrated on his ears. “Oh, he wasn’t listening, tita.”
Caleb’s head snappedto her. She wascalling his mom tita now? How did that happen in barely five minutes?
“My dad’s company issponsoring this fund-raising concert next week. It’s a really coolconcept because they’ve invited an orchestra to play pop music. Ihave tickets.” Tara added quickly, “I can pick you up.”
“You drive?” Caleb caughthis mom’s approving glance.
“Yes, tita. But I thinkit’s better if I bring a driver. Weekend traffic can getcrazy.”
“Ah.” Caleb’s momsmiled.
Tara turned to him, lookingsuddenly shy. “So, do you want to go?”
A morsel of theputo bumbong had foundits way up his throat. Or maybe it was the feeling of dread thatwas blocking his air passage. Whatever it was, it was replaced byguilt as he looked at his mom’s expectant face.
Somehow, he forced out thewords. “Okay, sure.”
Chapter 8: MeasuredTones
“I swear, Cale.” Ginny wasstaring at him, shaking her head. “You are infinitely clueless. It’s so obviousthat she likes you!”
Rubbing his cheek, Calebsighed. “She just feels sorry that I don’t have a social life.Let’s not assume anything.”
That morning before class,he’d texted Ginny to meet him on one of the benches fronting thefootball field. At this time of day, the sunlit
