Chasing Mr. Prefect Read online

  This was perhaps why my dad used all of his power to get Liana into the internship program at his office—it was some sort of payment for Cris getting me into college. I, in turn, tried my best to be nicer. (Kindly note the emphasis on tried.) I also made it a point to maintain the passing grade point average, because it would be deathly embarrassing if I got kicked out for slacking off.

  Great. Another reason for me to take my punishment seriously.

  I had just finished putting on a new shirt and shorts when someone knocked.

  “Hey,” said Liana, pushing the door slowly. She looked even smaller than usual as she stood in my doorway, looking like a puppy waiting for food. I raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to kick her out of my room.

  “I’m going downstairs in a minute,” I replied coldly. “Did you need something?”

  “I heard what happened today. Are you okay?” she asked, genuinely concerned, but it just pissed me off more. I picked up my phone just so I wouldn’t have to look at her.

  “Does it look like I’m not?” I asked, mentally cursing whoever had told her as I checked my e-mails. Unlike me, she had a lot of friends, and as we happened to be in the same college, just different batches, I knew she’d figure it out anyway. Just didn’t expect it to reach her this early, though it could be because she had ears the size of Dumbo’s.

  “No, but if you needed help—”

  “I don’t need help,” I said shortly, locking my phone and throwing it aside. “But thanks.”

  The way she tried to act like we were friends made me sick. She stared at me with her huge puppy eyes, seemingly taking offense, but she then shrugged and smiled. God, I wished she would just lose her temper and hit me so I could give her a good swing.

  “Come on, then, dinner’s ready,” she said, leaving the door open for me and running back off towards the stairs.

  CHAPTER 4

  The weekend passed by like a blur, and I spent most of it sleeping as I knew I would be needing more of it for the coming weeks. Come Tuesday, I was breezing through classes and only then did I notice that I had Cholo in every single one of them, though neither of us acknowledged the other’s existence.

  Which was fine with me. I wasn’t good at small talk, and he didn’t seem to be the type to entertain or make friends with people whom he encountered in the prefect’s office.

  Wednesday was pretty much the same, except that I still had that meeting to attend before I could go home. Wanting to get the meeting over with, I went straight to our meeting place after my last class. The org room just had to be in the building’s fourth floor and I was panting hard by the time I reached it.

  Oh, man.

  The place was bursting at the seams. I saw people playing games, eating, and generally being rowdy. Was the tambayan always this crowded? There had to be a member’s interaction event or something. Why didn’t I check the calendar?

  I stood at the entrance, tempted to make a run for it. Every seat was occupied, and the noise was unbearable. I was about to turn around and text Miss Co to give me Cholo’s number when someone put an arm around me.

  “Look who’s here!” said a familiar voice. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Vinnie?”

  “Get off me, damn it,” I snapped, taking his arm off. I pushed him away and he just laughed. The smell of nicotine on him was overwhelming. “Ugh, you stink.”

  “You’re hurting my feelings,” he replied dramatically, putting his hand on his chest. I rolled my eyes and gave him a once-over.

  Gian Magsaysay was taller than me by about a head, and was dressed in what I recognized as his case-presentation garb. He was an acquaintance from high school, and we mostly got along well because we had the same sense of humor. I spent a fair number of college lunches with him, and while I’d rather eat my own foot than admit it, he was actually quite fun to be with. Today his hair was brushed up with product, making him look like a more sinister, Asian version of Draco Malfoy. I wrinkled my nose at his crisp-collared shirt.

  “Nice, Magsaysay,” I said derisively, and he gave an exasperated sigh, as though saying ‘here we go again’. “About time you realized your true calling was in selling bibles.”

  “Very funny, Exconde,” he snapped. “You sure could use one, though. What the hell happened to you yesterday?”

  “None of your business. Have you seen Cholo?” I asked, looking back at the sea of faces inside the org room.

  “No, why?” asked Gian, eyes glinting maliciously as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Is he going to suspend you?”

  I punched him hard in the shoulder, and this time, he had yelled out a genuine groan.

  “Hey, that hurt!” he whined. “I’ll get you for that one, Vinnie. I mean it.”

  “Lavinia.”

  Gian and I both looked back to see Cholo standing between us. His eyes darted between me and Gian like a windshield wiper, as though measuring us both up.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to smile. Gian put a fist against his mouth as he suppressed a loud snort, looking amused by my formal behavior, so I kicked him in the shin to get even.

  It was Cholo’s turn to stifle a laugh. (I know, I’m so funny.)

  “What the hell!” Gian swore, clutching his leg. I gave him an innocent smile and resisted the urge to laugh in his face.

  He skipped away towards the tambayan, where a number of people greeted him. Some of the members even called out to Cholo, asking him to join in, but he just waved and said, “Sorry, Ephemere meeting!” before tapping my shoulder and gesturing towards the stairs.

  “Jeez, why make me climb?” I said, unable to help myself as he led me to the second-floor library instead.

  “Internal Affairs had to move their pakain in the org room, someone else had used the grandstand,” he explained. “Awesome kick though.”

  I gaped at him. “Sorry?”

  “You’re not as bad as I thought,” he went on, smirking as he stopped by the librarian’s counter. “Judging by the company I thought you kept—

  “Company, meaning Gian?” I asked.

  “Well, as it turns out, you know how to tell the wrong sort for yourself after all,” he replied, smiling as he got the discussion room key. His eyes turned into half-moons as he did. “Shall we?”

  I wanted to point out that between me and Gian (who would qualify for magna cum laude if he maintained his current GPA), I would be the one considered to be the ‘wrong’ sort, but I kept my mouth shut. It was becoming a habit.

  “By the way, did you get to eat?” he asked, now opening the discussion room, which was empty. The college library provided a soundproof discussion room where we could practice case presentations or hold group conferences.

  “No,” I answered.

  “Shy type ka ng lagay na ‘yan?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

  “I’m not shy. I don’t like interacting with people in general, and nor do I usually just sit down and eat with people I don’t know,” I answered. “What do you mean by ‘lagay na yan’?”

  “Chill, Lavinia,” he said, chuckling as he wrote in block letters on the blackboard: Logistics, Marketing, Finance, Promotions, and Publicity. “I’m not implying anything. Just didn’t think you were . . . I don’t know, one who avoided interactions?”

  “Which one are you assigning me?” I asked, just to avoid the topic, and slumped on one of the chairs.

  “Depends on which you like,” he said, sitting on the table in front of my chair, facing me as he held the whiteboard marker.

  “Could you put the cap on that? It stinks,” I commented, wrinkling my nose while looking at his whiteboard marker, and he obliged. “What does Finance do?”

  “You sell the stuff we got from X-Deals, which we sell on campus bazaars,” he said. He scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, and I noticed he had a small mole on the base of his thumb. “Wait, I’m guessing you won’t like that.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, horrified at the idea. “Promotions—how’s that differe
nt from publicity?”

  “Promotions—that involves the campus tours, like going around universities and promoting the event. Giving talks, making the pretty students pose with this giant 3-D logo of Ephemere,” he said, extending both hands to demonstrate how big the logo is. “They’re also the ones doing the radio station visits and making deals to air Ephemere’s radio commercials.”

  “Okay, what about Publicity?”

  “They’re the ones checking the visuals, like in the posters. Getting in contact with artists or people who could do publicity materials, sometimes they make it themselves.”

  “I could do that,” I decided, suddenly excited. “Can I be assigned under Pub?”

  “Seriously?” he asked incredulously.

  “You heard Miss Co. She said I had a good eye, ‘di ba? And I could do Flash! Photoshop too!”

  “Okay okay, point taken,” Cholo said, holding both palms up. “Seriously. You have no chill.”

  “Which one are you in, anyway?” I demanded, leaning towards him with both my arms on the table. I remembered Miss Co telling me what position he had, but I couldn’t quite recall what it was. I had to know as I had no desire to get assigned in the same task as he did—he was annoying me enough as it is, and if I ever ended up having to work with him under the same freaking umbrella, I would probably lose my temper and get two suspension warnings in less than a week.

  “Oh, that’s a touchy subject,” he groaned, sighing.

  “Didn’t Patsy tell you? I wanted Marketing Head.”

  “Wow, seriously?” I said, my mouth curling in a disbelieving pout as he looked genuinely bothered by it. The idea of anyone turning Cholo down for anything sounded absurd to me.

  “Yeah, eh, wala,” he said to me with this tragic expression. “They wanted me as event chair.”

  I kicked the foot of the table he was sitting on.

  “Ow!” he complained, as he got dislodged off the table. Served him right.

  “Tang inang ‘to, kainis!” I snarled.

  “What the fuck! You were cute when you kicked Gian,” he said, sitting on the table again. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Where are the others?” I asked. “I’m tired of your face.”

  “Choosy ka pa?” he countered, shaking his head.

  Knock knock knock.

  We both looked at the door, where a tall girl just materialized.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling at Cholo. I couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous she was and how her legs could have spanned the length of EDSA, despite the fact that half of her figure was still hidden behind the door. Her tan was perfect and glowing. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “Where are the others?” asked Cholo, his features arranged in a polite smile.

  Formal bigla?

  “I think it’s us lang,” she said, closing the door, then she saw me. Her smile vanished a bit, and I wanted to bolt.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, unsure of why I was apologizing. Nor did I have an idea on why she looked so disappointed.

  “Oh, introductions,” said Cholo, getting off the table and folding his arms. “Lavinia, this is Summer Tiu, Finance Head for the BA Student Council, which is our partner organization for Ephemere. In effect, she’s my co-chairperson for this project. Summer, this is Lavinia Exconde. It’s a little late, but Patsy’s put in her word for Lavinia so she’ll be our additional officer for Pub, replacing Carina Lim.”

  I’m what?

  “Vinnie would be fine,” I said, making a mental note to berate Cholo about the officer part later as I seemed to have missed that part of the agreement. I stood up to offer my hand, and Summer stepped forward to take it.

  “Hi, Vinnie,” she replied, giving me a smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Her tone made it clear that whatever she had heard about me was not good but she did her job and oriented me properly regarding Ephemere. She also remained distant and casual, which bothered me in the beginning as the other officers Cholo had introduced me to later that afternoon had at least made an effort to be warm. In the end, I decided not to care. I’d have to ignore whatever qualms I had about her. Like Cholo, she’d be overseeing my performance and her feedback would be important. I had the feeling I wouldn’t be graduating on time if I ever got on her bad side.

  Or if she got on mine, whichever came first.

  CHAPTER 5

  Before I knew it, I was taking the officer part way too seriously.

  Days turned into weeks, and org stuff started occupying my time more than I had anticipated. It felt good, though. I got these strange rushes of fulfillment whenever a co-officer texted me that I did a good job or when they took me with them on sponsor meetings. Cholo kept Miss Co updated about my progress and apparently there was an instance that she was so kilig she started choking on her coffee.

  I wondered if I was that hopeless when they first proposed the idea, but that wasn’t important now—what I would need was to carry on and not fail them. Or my parents.

  My academics weren’t even suffering. Cholo kept teasing me how it must have been an effect of me getting involved with the org and being more conscious of how I spent my limited time on things and I just rolled my eyes at him. See, he liked being told that he was right and I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

  It wasn’t easy to blend right in, though. You had the grade-conscious kids who judged you for not knowing who Kierkegaard was, the crazy-rich girls who judged you for wearing last-season’s flats, and the douchebags who constantly wore boat shoes (seriously, I didn’t understand the appeal of that trend) and thought the sun shone out of their designer-clad ass. The list went on. There were the occasional nice people who had apparently been in my classes since freshman year but I had never really talked to and I decided to try making friends with them first before the more difficult ones.

  They weren’t just big on parties too. Gian and his team had organized an outreach for the recent typhoon’s victims the other week, and I gaped in disbelief as I never thought my high school non-friend would ever bother to do anything of that sort. He was surprisingly good with the kids, which made him around three times as pogi in my eyes. Another team had set up a series of branding seminars that featured larger-than-life speakers, some of them org alumni who were now working as brand executives, with the premise of helping us learn stuff that we wouldn’t be taught in the classroom. Cholo had dragged me the other day to attend the refresher that the Academics Team organized for BA 115.1 (Managerial Accounting) students and I was able to answer the next exam without having to cram.

  “See, I told you that wasn’t so bad,” he started nagging after we got the results. “Taas ng score mo, o!”

  “Hoy! My grades aren’t that bad, ha,” I said defensively as I tried to keep up with his long strides.

  “I didn’t say they were! I just think you could do better. Didn’t you say you could still get cum laude?”

  “Yeah, but I have Finance II this sem, too, and, oh my God, wait lang,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “How’d you know that?”

  “It’s in your Twitter feed!” he replied, looking like I had just asked him if two and two made four, and my eyes widened.

  “You’re following me on Twitter?!” I said, actually making an effort to overtake him and block his way. He laughed his head off at my reaction.

  “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “Your tweets are really funny. Well, not when you call people trash or refer to me as a self-righteous meatball head. That and the fact that you’re still not following me back. But don’t worry. I know it’s hard to keep track of five thousand plus followers. No hard feelings.”

  I covered my mouth with both hands to keep from gaping.

  “How on earth,” I started, following his tracks as he sidestepped me, “did you even end up following me? My Twitter is a fan account!”

  “Why are you so upset?” he asked, eyes glinting in hardly suppressed mirth. “You’re not the only one here who likes Era of Maidens.�
��

  And that was when my jaw hit the floor. That was an embarrassing secret. No one knew that I was running a Twitter account, much less one that was dedicated to a K-Pop girl group.

  I was mortified. Cholo tapped the top of my head thrice like I was a toddler.

  “Wait, I really have to get to class,” he said, smiling, putting a hand under my chin to stop me from staring agape. “Don’t worry. It’s our little secret.”

  With a wink, he walked off towards the stairs, and I was left still gaping.

  Cholo, an Era of Maidens fan? Who knew?

  CHAPTER 6

  I spent the next hour going over my tweets, slapping my own forehead every time I found anything compromising and almost forgetting that we had another meeting today. A couple of texts jolted me out of my reverie and got me running two staircases up to the org room.

  “Vinnie! Over here!” said someone on the far corner of the room. I self-consciously made my way to that spot, trying not to cower as half the room turned towards me.

  “Hi, Seth,” I said breathlessly, taking a seat. There were three people waiting for me. Right across me was Summer, who was giving me a weird stare, like she was thinking about something she would rather not say. On my left was Seth Agoncillo, my Team head, and on my right was Kristine Andal, the team head for Marketing. They were both beaming at me.

  “Sayang, you weren’t in GA,” Kristine said, leaning towards me, her voice an octave higher in apparent excitement. We had a general assembly today that I didn’t attend. “You should have seen how wild they went over your teaser video!”

  “Sorry, I had a class. So they liked it?” I asked.

  “Yeah!” said Seth. “You’re really good at this hype thing. Where did you even make this?”

  “Flash,” I replied. Their smiles went even wider.

  “Then what the hell are you doing in BA, Vinnie?” he sputtered. “You should be in Multimedia or something!”