“It’s either you’refishing for compliments or you really don’t know.” Ginny clampedher hands on Caleb’s shoulders and gave him a shake. “Look at you!Tall. Nice skin. It’s unfair that your eyelashes are thicker thanmine.” She tweaked his apricot-colored bowtie. “A quirky sense ofstyle. You don’t smile often, but when you do? It totallyslays. You have thisquiet confidence that doesn’t get on the nerves. And if you’d putsome muscle into all that height—you’d be quite thehottie.”
With every revelation Ginnydropped, Caleb’s eyes had grown wider and wider. By the time she’dfinished, his eyes were popping out of his sockets.
“Gins,” he said softly.“You honestly think I’m all that?” He sifted through thememories of his puberty, failing to come up with a complimentthrown at him—except by his mom. “Then why hasn’t anyone toldme?”
Ginny hesitated. “You’renot exactly Mr. Friendly, you know? When you enter a room, youdon’t make eye contact. People are scared to approachyou.”
Caleb continued to look atGinny in amazement. Couldn’t she tell that it was the other wayaround? He wasthe one afraid of people. His past friendships never went beyondacademics. He and his friends never watched movies on weekends.They never celebrated each other’s birthdays. Their ties had beenso loose that when it was time for college, they went theirseparate ways without drama.
“Which was why I thoughttwice about talking to you on the first day of class.” Ginny shothim a sheepish smile. “Here was this cute guy, who, unlike the restof us, wasn’t nervously looking around the room.” She nudged histoe playfully. “You weren’t exactly chatty, but I figured you’deventually crack. You didn’t have a choice—the alphabetical seatingarrangement was permanent for the rest of the semester.” She letout an evil laugh. “No escape from the girl with the crazyhair.”
He joined in her laughter,remembering that day just as clearly. But it was funny how Ginnyhad read him then. Caleb remembered feeling so nervous that he hadalmost hit the roof when Ginny talked to him. The first thing hesaw was her bright orange hair—which he later discovered was theresult of a dye job gone bad.
“I need some crazy in mylife,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you like coloringyour hair?”
Ginny shrugged. “Becauseit’s fun?” She paused, gazing at her shoes. “Although when I thinkabout it, maybe it’s because I’m scared.”
Caleb looked at her insurprise.
“You know how animals tryto make themselves look bigger when they feel threatened? I thinkI’m the same way. The aunts take good care of me here in Manila,but it’s not the same as living with my own family in the province.I think I freaked out a little at the thought of studying here,knowing that none of my friends would be with me. But it’s a greatopportunity so my parents told me to go for it. The hair color ismy way of coping—like if I could crazy up my hair and still hold myhead up high, I could survive college.” She grinned up at him.“Crazy logic, huh? Weirdly enough, the aunts got it.”
Caleb nodded, knowing howit was like to be scared of change. He had never met Ginny’s aunts,but they sounded like a cool pair.
“So, how’s thelovelife?”
Ginny’s face puckered likeshe’d eaten something sour. “He’s . . . ugh! One moment, he’s allsweet and friendly, and then the next moment, he ignores me todeath. I am having the worsttime in Wordplay with him playing hot and cold,and Drew badgering me to finish my poem.”
Caleb gave a shudder. “I’mglad I got out of Wordplay. I can’t imagine having to write poetryon top of everything else.”
Ginny peered up at him,realization creeping into her eyes. “You know, all week long, I’vebeen thinking whom Drew reminded me of.” Her mouth curled up into asmile. “Now I know—it’s you!”
His eyes widened. “Wait,what?”
Ginny bobbed her head. “Youboth have this . . . this snobbish aura. When I got to know Drew, Iwas surprised that he was so nice and helpful. People get thisimpression that he’s aloof, but he just likes staying in thebackground. He doesn’t like performing as much asFranco.”
And this was why Francoand Drew were perfect for each other, Caleb wanted to say. Didn’tFranco spell that out in his poem? Franco was warmth and radiance,while Drew was ice and shadow. Drew and Franco. Yin and yang. Mangga at bagoong.
He gave a small start whenGinny dropped her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad Drew’s my mentor.If he’s anything like you, I know I’ll be okay.” Her voice grewsoft. “It’s really a good feeling to have someone whom I canconfide in anytime. I hope you feel the same way, Cale—that you cantalk to me about anything.”
Caleb’s throat prickled. Hefelt like an impostor. Ginny didn’t know the real him.
“Ginny, I . . .”
“Hmm?” Underneath his chin,her voice sounded faraway.
“I . . .” The truth,begging to be confessed, made Caleb’s jaw move. But the wordsrefused to be released. Sensing the movement, Ginny straightenedand gazed at him in concern.
He had hesitated too long.The moment faded away, and the wall had closed in on him again. Hepushed himself up from the bench, and straightened hisalready-straight bowtie.
“Sorry, but I have to getto class.”
Chapter 9:Serenade
The rooftop of the city’slargest mall had been transformed into a luminous wonderland. Lightspilled from everywhere—soft spotlights, paper lanterns, and fairylights cascading from tree branches. Slim-backed, wrought ironchairs clustered around candle-lit tables covered in white linen.It looked like something straight out of a page ofBridal Fair that for amoment, Caleb wondered if they’d come to the rightplace.
“You’re not wearing abowtie.” Tara slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, andlooked up at him with twinkling eyes. “I wanted to see what coloryou’d wear tonight.”
He replied with a shrug.Before Tara picked him up, his mom had fussed over him as if itwere his prom night. She would’ve been shocked to find out that herson owned a collection of bowties.
“You still look greatthough.” He felt Tara’s gaze rake over his white polo tucked intodark jeans. It was the result of an argument he won over his mom,who had insisted
