May 31, 2009

Dylan

After making sure that his mother’s new bakery was fully set up, Dylan padded into his small, dimly lit bedroom and took a seat on the edge of his queen-sized bed. The room was still a mess, a chaotic sea of unpacked boxes and scattered belongings that bore silent witness to his reluctance to settle in. He hadn’t touched the half-opened boxes that lined the walls, their contents spilling out like forgotten memories—clothes, books, and trinkets from a life he had left behind. He had little desire to do so, despite his mother’s frequent and well-meaning reminders to get his things in order so they could truly make this new place their home.

It was Sunday, and while his mother had gone to church, he found himself forsaken in the quiet solitude of their new house. It wasn’t that his parents were particularly devout; they had been raised as Catholics but had drifted away from regular practice as they grew older. Dylan was fairly certain that his mother’s weekly pilgrimage to the church had less to do with faith and more to do with her appreciation for the church’s grandiose interior—the stained glass windows, the intricately carved wooden pews, and the serene, echoing silence of the cathedral’s high arches. For her, the church was less a place of worship and more a refuge for reflection, a sanctuary from the relentless demands of everyday life.

Dylan pulled out his old, beat-up flip phone from his pocket. The phone had seen better days, its screen scratched and the buttons worn smooth from years of use. He flipped it open, the familiar click of the hinge a small comfort amid his unease. He dialed Arvin’s number, his thumb hovering over the tiny buttons with a mix of hope and trepidation. The call went straight to voicemail. He tried Lizzie next, his fingers trembling slightly as he punched in her number, but the outcome was the same: no answer.

A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach as he stared at the silent, unimpressed screen of his flip phone. Had they seriously forgotten about me? He slumped onto the bed, the familiar comfort of the mattress doing little to ease the sting of his loneliness. The room felt even smaller now, the walls closing in as if they too were keenly aware of his sense of being adrift.

Dylan had never wanted to leave Albay. He had fought against this move until the very end, begging his parents to reconsider right up until the bus pulled away from the station. But his pleas had been met with the same silence that now filled the room, his parents’ minds made up despite his best efforts. They had insisted that this move was for the best, a chance for new opportunities and a fresh start, but to him, it only felt like a betrayal of everything he had known and loved.

Tomorrow loomed ahead like a dark, oppressive storm on the horizon. He would be a transferee at a new school, a newcomer in a sea of faces that were all strangers to him. Just the thought of walking into that classroom, of being the clueless outsider, sent a shiver down his spine. His throat tightened a dry, uneasy sensation that made him long for the comforting familiarity of his old life, for the easy camaraderie of his friends who now seemed like distant, unreachable stars.

He let out a deep, weary sigh, the sound of it a low rumble of resignation in the quiet room. The exhaustion of the day’s events, coupled with the imminent uncertainty of tomorrow, felt like a heavy weight on his chest. He lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the bare, white expanse might hold some answers to the questions swirling in his mind.

EJ

EJ sat in his dimly lit room, cocooned in the soft, soothing glow of the desk lamp beside him. The room was a sanctuary of sorts, its walls lined with shelves of neatly arranged textbooks and personal mementos from a time before the weight of impending exams began to consume him. He was listening to a Coldplay song on his iPod shuffle, the music enveloping him like a comforting embrace and providing a brief escape from the relentless patter of the rain against the windowpane. The rhythmic tapping of raindrops on the glass was a gentle but persistent reminder of the dreary day outside, where the world was shrouded in a veil of mist and gray clouds.

Earlier in the day, EJ had been filled with a sense of eager anticipation. He had dressed up in his favorite C&C Polo shirt, a crisp white garment that he loved for its simple elegance, and paired it with his favorite denim jeans—comfortable yet stylish, a combination that always made him feel good about himself. He had imagined the day spent enjoying a family lunch at their favorite restaurant in Grand Vista Mall, a place known for its delicious food and warm ambiance.

However, when he descended the stairs, his heart full of hope and excitement, he was met with a different reality. The moment he stepped into the living room, the disapproving looks from his parents struck him like a cold slap in the face. Their expressions were a mix of surprise and reproach, their eyes reflecting a sentiment that made him feel like an intruder in his own home.

His father, Ellison, had delivered his judgment with the same monotone voice that seemed to suck the life out of any conversation. “Why are you dressed up? Don’t you need to review for your UPCAT?” he had said, his words carrying so much disappointment. The way his father had phrased the question was as if EJ’s attempt to dress nicely was a grave offense, a minor rebellion against the all-important exam that was a matter of life and death. The sternness in his father's voice had been like a cold wind blowing through the room, chilling him to the core and snuffing out the spark of joy he had felt just moments before.

EJ had known better than to argue. He did not need any more signs or further explanations. The message was clear: there was no room for personal indulgence, no space for the small pleasures of life when there was a bigger, more important task at hand. With a heavy heart and a sense of profound dejection, he had turned on his heel and retreated up the stairs, the sound of the door slamming behind him echoing his frustration and anger. The finality of the action had been a bitter punctuation to the disappointment he felt.

Now, sitting on the edge of his bed, he stared at the stacks of textbooks on his study table. Each book was a testament to the countless hours he had spent pouring over practice problems, memorizing equations, and revising notes. The pages were dog-eared and marked with annotations, a silent record of his relentless efforts since April to cram every conceivable detail into his overburdened mind. The load of the academic pressure seemed almost physical, pressing down on him as he looked at the neatly arranged piles of study materials. The relentless grind of preparation for the UPCAT had become a part of his daily routine, an unending cycle of study and review that left little room for anything else.

Yet despite his weariness, there was a flicker of hope within him. Tomorrow marked the beginning of a new chapter—classes at St. Michael’s Catholic School would resume, and with it came the promise of reconnecting with his friends. It was a small comfort, but a meaningful one. During the summer break, he had been deprived of their companionship, their laughter, and their shared experiences. The thought of seeing them again, of rejoining the familiar rhythm of school life, was a source of ease that helped him endure the monotony of his solitary study sessions.

He took a deep breath, allowing the melancholic strains of the song to wash over him. The music was gentle and introspective, a perfect companion for his contemplations. The lyrics spoke of longing and hope, resonating with his feelings of isolation and his yearning for a reprieve from the pressures of the UPCAT.

EJ closed his eyes, letting the melody carry him away to a place where the worries of the world could not reach him. He pictured himself back in the bustling corridors of St. Michael’s Catholic School, surrounded by the familiar faces of his friends, their conversations a comforting hum of normalcy amidst the chaos of his academic life. It was a fleeting vision, but it was enough to bring a small smile to his lips.

Tomorrow, the cycle of studying and stress would continue, but for now, he allowed himself this moment of respite. He clung to the hope that things would get better, that the bonds of friendship would provide him with the strength to face the challenges ahead.

The rain continued to fall outside, a steady, soothing rhythm that blended with the music, and for a while, EJ was content to simply sit in the quiet of his room, lost in thought and the comforting embrace of his favorite song.