Chapter Text
August 1995
Increased heartbeat, almost panting, Mickey took deep breaths as he climbed up the stairs. He recklessly closed the door as soon as he was inside his room. The loud banging sound it made reverberated inside their house.
He winced, briefly covering his face with his hand. His father would no doubt mention this later. Another one of the many house rules he constantly broke: strict curfew, no running inside the house, do not slam doors, do not wear shoes inside your room, ano ba anak?
He didn't enjoy his father’s many sermons, but right now, he was too energized to act like a quiet mouse. It was impossible. The pumping of his blood made him feel lightheaded enough to just let his body fall, face first into his bed. He kicked off his shoes, unable to help the stupid smile on his face.
He shouldn't be this excited over meeting a bunch of new people. He’d been through this before, having moved to different parts of the country all of his sixteen years of existence.
But this was different. His dad had finally retired and his parents had assured him that they’ll be staying here permanently. He will be spending his junior and senior year at the school he was currently enrolled in. There will be no sudden transfer mid year; no rushed packing of his things and hasty goodbyes to just-found friends.
Tempting fate, testing out his parent's promise, Mickey decided to try out for the school's junior varsity basketball team. He knew he played well, but he had been wary of joining anything that required long time commitment.
At any point in time — in the middle of a tournament, at the end of the play-offs, at the start of the semi-finals — his father could uproot them, forcing him to leave his team behind.
It had happened before.
Numerous times. And it was unfair, both to his teammates and to himself, to start something that he would not be able to finish. He learned that lesson at a young age. And so to avoid disappointing anyone, Mickey chose to play the game just for the fun of it.
When he had gotten a spot in the varsity team and had started practicing with them, even winning a few games, he felt it was a sign to start thinking about his long-term plans. At least until the end of the school year. He wrote a list of things he wanted to achieve:
1. Good enough grades to get his father off his back
2. Win the inter-school basketball championship
3. Have a steady of group of friends he could hang out and have fun with.
Mickey wanted to take his time, really planning his next move, especially the last one. He wanted to pick the people he would surround himself with. He wanted his father to be impressed with his choice of friends. His father always told him, “Your high school friends will also be your lifelong friends, Miguel. They should be good and decent people, you understand, anak? You need to choose well."
***
A barkada. He had always wanted one. He never had enough time to establish any lasting friendship with his classmates and now, it was finally happening.
Mickey blindly grabbed a pillow, shoving it in his face. It felt like he had just finished playing all four quarters of a basketball game but without the usual body ache and excessive sweating.
Migs, ano ka ba? Relax lang. Masyado kang excited. Don’t get your hopes up.
He puffed up his cheeks, exhaling loudly as he threw his pillow down the floor. Bahala na!
"Miguel?" Mickey lifted his head, watching as his mom opened his door, cautiously poking her head in.
"Sabi ko na nga ba ikaw yung dumating eh. Ay, naku your shoes! Inakyat mo na naman sa kwarto mo. Ibaba mo na yan bago dumating ang papa mo."
Grimacing, he glanced guilty at his discarded shoes lying haphazardly on the floor. "Sorry, ma. San po nag punta si papa?"
"Ayun, kasama mga high school friends nya. Sila Tito Benjo mo. Nag golf sila. Pabalik na yun. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes kaya mag ayos ka na dyan."
Mickey pushed himself up by shoulder, "Yes, Ma."
His mother stared at him, frowning. "What is that — is that dried icing on your chin?"
Mickey felt his whole face warming up as he quickly rubbed the spot underneath his jaws, remembering the feel of Cristina's fingers ghosting over his face — a thick blob of icing separating their skin — he quickly shook his head. "Shaving cream, ma."
His mom raised her eyebrows in obvious disbelief. “Aba, binata na talaga ang bunso ko.”
"Eto na Ma, maliligo na po ako!" Mickey announced, scrambling off his bed before his mom could think of new ways to tease him. He could hear his mom gleefully chortling as she closed the door. He sighed softly, looking around his mess of a room. He found a discarded polo shirt hanging at the back of a chair. He hesitantly sniffed it. It smelled unused, maybe even freshly laundered. He placed it on the top of the bed and decided to wear it for tonight.
Another one of his dad's house rules: dinner was always a formal event. They were expected to be washed and dressed appropriately before food was served. His father was a firm believer in the importance of sharing at least one meal once a day so that they could talk as a family.
Dinner always started with, “How was your day, anak?”
* * *
It had been eventful. Played ball. Found friends. Attended a surprise birthday party that ended up in a food fight. Met a girl. Well, girls really. There was this one in particular… but — he shook his head. He didn't want to get into all that.
Of course, this was not the productive kind of activity his father demanded from him. But Saturdays were his one day of the whole week he was allowed to pursue his own interests, which always gravitated towards two things: basketball and dancing. Three, if you counted girls. But let’s not go there yet.
***
He'd gone to the village court early this morning, hoping to shoot some hoops. That was where Wacks and Kiko had approached him. They needed another player for a game of three-on-three. Mickey had never been one to turn down a basketball game, so he said yes. They actually, surprisingly played well with each other. They had excellent on-court chemistry — always a good sign.
Anyway, Wacks or Joaquin Torres the Third (the guy said it in a way that made sure you didn’t forget) and Kiko, short for Francisco Martin Something Something (Mickey couldn’t remember) seemed to be the most unlikely pair of guys ever to become friends.
Joaquin had an air of a typical maangas rich kid. Mickey had known guys like him. They were everywhere, it didn't matter whether you were in the province or in the cities. They were always present and at the center of any social circle. They didn’t take any shit from anybody; they knew exactly what they want and how they want it.
And with the way Wacks acted, Mickey was one hundred percent sure that he was used to getting his way. Mickey could respect that. He always felt he was a little bit more mature than his age group, probably due to his military-like upbringing. He tended to gravitate towards the confident leader of the group.
Kiko, on the other hand, had been warm and friendly; ready with a lot of jokes. He was obviously the goofy, happy-go-lucky-kid; an attitude Mickey aspired to have. Unfortunately, it didn’t come naturally for him, so he enjoyed the company of those who had that jolly, feel-good mindset.
He thought they weren’t so bad. They made fun of his nickname, something he was already used to, so no biggie. And then they surprised him by inviting him to their tambayan.
Well, Kiko invited him. Wacks hadn’t really said anything, although it was explained during the short walk towards the parking lot that the barkada – their barkada, as in Wack’s and Kiko’s (there was a possessive tone in Wack’s voice when he was telling him this) always hung out at the same place every Saturday.
Mickey had planned on politely saying "no, thanks" at the last minute – he had a feeling that Wacks didn’t really want him coming with them – but the mention of a barkada changed his mind. What’s the harm anyway? If he didn’t like the group and found them annoying – another variation of Wacks and Kiko, maybe? – he could always go home and just practice his dance moves.
***
The tambayan was within the village.
Mickey felt his eyebrows raising when they arrived at their destination. He knew his family was relatively well-off and he’d been to huge houses before, but this one was on a whole ‘nother level he’d never been exposed to. He almost whistled out loud, impressed and just a little bit intimidated by this barkada.
Were they all rich boys with cars and shoes more expensive than everything he owned?! No wonder they needed a big house to fit all of their egos inside.
He had been expecting to find a bunch of other guys, a total testosterone overload, no different from his usual group of friends, but no – Wacks and Kiko who studied in a different school (as he later found out) were friends with two other girls who were studying in his school.
Peachy Real had a look that made it possible for you to easily approach her; her charm was that she didn’t know how to be shy among strangers. He remembered seeing her during basketball games. How could he not? She was a cheerleader. You always remembered them: short skirts, high pony tails. Sixteen-year-old boys such as himself would be lying if they said otherwise. She had a loud, perky voice that matched her personality; always smiling that be-dimpled smile of hers. She was totally cute.
But it was their other friend, Cristina de Guzman, that had the weirdest effect on him. Mickey had almost felt time slowing down as he stared down at her, taking in her petiteness, her short hair, the roundness of her cheeks and – wow, pare – those eyes of hers! Warm brown, framed by long lashes as dark as her hair. It made him, for a whole second, forget where he was.
Mickey blinked down at her. He heard his voice coming from somewhere far as he slowly, carefully – wanting to make a good impression – idiotically said, “hi!”
That she hadn’t said "hi" back, merely arching her delicate eyebrows, quickly deflated his excitement. Of course, trust the ever-cheerful cheerleader to change his mood, practically hopping over to him, asking him about himself and making him tell them all sorts of things he normally would not have said at a first meeting.
He kept glancing at Wacks, Kiko and Cristina huddled together, wondering if they weren’t interested in what he had to say or if they were too busy trying not to ruin their birthday surprise for Peachy. And while he babbled about himself, Peachy eagerly listening, he could not get past the fact that he didn’t seem to have made any sort of lasting impression on Cristina. It was oddly disappointing.
For the record, Mickey had never been tongue tied before. Especially not with girls. He was, in this way, like Joaquin and Peachy: confident and never awkward at social gatherings. This was borne out of years of being the new guy. He had all the experience and practice in the “getting-to-know-every-one” stage.
He thought he recovered nicely, inviting Cristina to be his partner at billiards, even though she had insisted, at first, to stick with her usual partner, Wacks. He was honestly glad that Peachy suggested she'll team up with Wacks instead, for a change.
Things might’ve gotten a little bit competitive during the billiard game. Wacks suddenly didn’t seem all that happy to have him at their tambayan. It wasn’t even implied. Mickey could really feel Wacks sending him death glares.
He couldn't blame Wacks though, after all, he was still a stranger to them.
***
Peachy had told him that they’ve been friends since grade school. It showed. The teasing between them came naturally. He noticed their unashamed physical displays of affection. Wacks or Kiko would often have their arm casually slung around Cristina or Peachy’s shoulders; the girls playfully hitting them anywhere they liked. The guys rarely retaliated, but when they did, it was always with the awareness of their own strength. There was a respectfulness in their harutan.
And it was at that exact moment that Mickey felt the unfurling of, first jealousy and then, next to that, the craving. He never had this kind of friendship before. One that lasted long enough for them to know each other’s family, have special nicknames for each other, spend whole weekends together.
Mickey wanted to become part of this group, too.
And because he was a sucker for trying, he told Cristina exactly this. Admitting just how much he liked spending time with them. “Especially you, I really enjoy your company”
And, another non-reaction, mga migs. Mickey had to swallow down hard, his throat drying up as he momentarily lost himself, staring at those huge, brown eyes of hers. Cristina offered him a half smile, one that was still a little bit too guarded for his taste, before shyly ducking her head down. What did he expect, though? They had just met.
* * *
Mickey was quickly learning the dynamics of this barkada. Kiko — who was perpetually glued to the phone — shared the same relaxed, open and friendly disposition as Peachy. Wacks and Cristina on the other hand, were both more aloof and reserved, even coming off as masungit.
And while Kiko and Peachy had been more than welcoming, Mickey felt like he was being judged. On whether or not there was any space for him in this tightly knitted group of childhood friends or on something else, he couldn’t tell.
You’re an intruder here. Mickey reminded himself. Just act cool, okay? Don’t mess this up.
He had been trying his hardest na walang ma bad trip sa kanya but despite his effort to keep a safe, friendly distance, he managed to unfortunately piss off Wacks — of all people.
Mickey couldn't help but cringe remembering the way Wacks had angrily snapped at him. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't help commenting on the way they were treating Peachy on her birthday.
And then Peachy and Cristina started arguing, too. Not to mention his pants getting all wet and stained by something red and disgusting. Was it tomato soup? Ketchup juice?
It was all going downhill at that point. Mickey was almost ready to leave and just go home. He didn’t want to end his day with a barkada fighting around him. This wasn’t the kind of drama he wanted on a Saturday afternoon when it's supposed to be all fun and games, but something stopped him. He decided to stick around and try to patch things up.
And he was right: it had been totally worth it.
* * *
“So, ayun nga mama, I met some new friends today.” He announced happily.
“Ay, anak! How wonderful!” His mom said, clapping her hands and reaching out to squeeze his arms. “You must tell us all about them! Are they all boys?”
“Two boys and two girls po, mama.”
“Ah! Two girls!” His mom had the widest grin. “Pareho bang pretty?”
Mickey stopped mid-chew, felt his face flushing. He shook his head, then realized what he was doing – the memory of Cristina's eyes and her pretty face slamming into him – so he nodded in agreement and then spluttered a little when his mom chuckled at his obvious confusion. “Ma naman eh. Kakakilala ko lang sa kanila!”
“Oh, eh ano naman? Hindi ka naman bulag anak. As long as they’re kind, that’s really all that matters.”
Mickey had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. His father would definitely catch that gesture and hellfire will rain down on him if ever disrespected his mother like that. “Yes, ma.”
“You better make sure they’re good kids, Miguel.” His father added sternly, tilting his head, giving him a hard look; a wordless order he was all too familiar with.
“Yes po, Papa. Mababait po sila. Dun lang po kami sa bahay nila nag stay and andun din po mama ni Peachy.” Mickey assured him, quickly shoving a spoonful of food so he wouldn’t have to say anything anymore.
“Good, you can invite them over here next time so we can meet them.”
Mickey nodded although he didn’t promise them anything. It wasn’t like he was already, officially member of the group. He had felt instant relief when Wacks finally warmed up to him, dropping the challenging attitude and thankfully, inviting him back to the tambayan next Saturday — pero dyahe naman to invite them so early to meet his parents.
And honestly, for some strange reason, he also kind of wanted to keep this barkada to himself for now.
Later, he’ll definitely invite them here to meet his family. But not yet.
* * *
Back in his bedroom, usually messy but now immaculately clean (okay, so most of the mess were shoved underneath his bed, but it was the effort that counted and Mickey wanted to make sure that he can keep his Saturday privileges by not getting into his parents’ bad side; a clean room was always a major point), Mickey was now lying down on his bed, Coolio’s Gangsta’s Paradise blasting full volume on his headset. Even with the loud background music, his mind could not help but return to today’s event. It was just one of those things that felt right. Meant to be.
Heart still racing, Mickey hugged his pillow closer to his chest. Things were definitely looking up. He was really excited for next weekend, now that he had met Wacks, Kiko, Peachy and especially Cristina.
Thank God for Saturdays.
-tbc-