A Page is Turned Excerpt
Excerpt from Chapter 4.
That night, when we got home, I got dressed and paced around my room, trying to think of how to talk to Rebekah. When she gets into a mood swing, you could only snap her out of it if she wants you to snap her out of it. On other cases, it’s best to leave her alone and after a while - this usually takes an hour or so - she would be back to her normal self.
I took a peek outside the back door and saw that Rebekah was already seated at the swing. She was staring into space, her eyes taking on a faraway look and a pout on her lips. She is the only one who sees the swing not as an old childhood thing among all of us - except Lawrence of course, but he’d rather play with his friends outside than alone on the swing - and more often than not, I find her there when something is bothering her. I didn’t know if I could approach her then, but it’s worth the try.
I got out of the house and walked to the swing slowly, trying to think of what to say. I knew I should apologize, and my mind stopped there - it would all depend on what she has to say now.
As I got closer, I saw her look at me, and that was just what she did: look at me. Rebekah has this “amazing gaze” - amazing in the sense that when she looks at you, she really looks into your eyes. Rebekah believes in the saying, “The eyes are the windows of the soul,” that’s why she makes it a point to look into the eyes of the person when she talks to them. I guess that is also one of the primary reasons that some people don’t like talking to her, because of the staring thing.
I stopped by the swing and looked at my best friend, who just looked back at me. I hesitated and then decided to go inside the swing and sit across her.
For the first time since she looked at me that night, she broke her gaze and looked away. I could have sworn I heard her sniffling - was Rebekah crying? For the past twelve years I’ve known her, she rarely cried. She did shed a tear once in a while, but it takes a while for her to actually cry over something.
It hit me that my transferring schools might be a bigger deal for her than what I thought. I decided to speak up.
“I’m sorry.”
They were the first two words that entered my mind and went out of my mouth. Rebekah looked at me and asked, “Why are you sorry?” Her tone was a bit cross.
Ah, at least she’s speaking, I thought, a bit relieved. A talking Rebekah is better than the silent one.
“Because I didn’t tell you about it…and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
She didn’t say anything, and just looked at me, waiting for me to speak again.
“I tried. I really did.”
Still no word. I couldn’t help it anymore and pleaded, “Uy Bek. Magsalita ka naman.1”
Finally, she spoke. “I can’t believe you’re transferring.”
I couldn’t believe it either. At some point, I thought I’d be okay with it, and then suddenly, the thought of having to face new people in a new school is something that I don’t know if I could actually even bear. I was so used to being in my old school with Rebekah, and transferring schools was not in any option at all, and suddenly, here I am, about to transfer.
“You’re probably more afraid than I am, are you?” she asked after a while.
“Me? Hindi noh…okay lang.”
“Yeah, right,” Rebekah said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t fool me, Isaac Cruz.”
I smiled. She knew me too well. “I am afraid. But it’s not like I have any choice. And besides, I’m a guy. I should not be afraid of something like this,” I added with a laugh.
“Right. Whatever, Isaac.”
“Aren’t you excited at all the boys that I could introduce you to?”
“No,” Rebekah said flatly. A few seconds later, she smiled. “I am curious, but not excited.”
“Close enough!” I declared.
Rebekah laughed. “You will introduce me to your new friends there, okay?” she said, and I nodded, laughing as well. No matter what people say about my best friend being difficult, I still won’t believe it. I believe she just demands extra care and respect, just like every other girl around. My dad taught me and Lawrence that women must be treated with utmost respect - that each and every girl I meet in my life is a princess of God, and that they should be treated the way a princess should be. Rebekah may seem spoiled to other people, but it’s just because they don’t know how to treat women right.
I walked Rebekah back to their door, greeted her dad who was wearing the usual “Isaac-and-Rebekah-teasing” grin. I said good night and then walked back to our house. Being alone forced me to face the thoughts that were haunting me earlier, about the current situation.
I am going to transfer schools. High school.
I wish I could have fought for it to my parents more than I did when we first discussed about it. I wish I could have insisted on it, and just say that Lawrence could take the discount in the high school. But I could see their point - they need to save up for Catherine and Lawrence, and our college. After all, there is no guarantee that the tuition would go down or stay the same through the years.
But still, it sucks that it has to be me.
I entered our back door and found my mom, doing some last minute checking in the kitchen. She looked up when I entered and asked, “So is Rebekah okay now?”
“Yeah,” I answered and paused before going on. “I don’t know if I am though.”
“Why do you say so?”
I sighed. “I don’t know if I want to transfer, Mommy. Natatakot ako.”
“Oh Isaac,” Mommy said, going to me and hugging me. “It’s a difficult decision, and your dad and I know that. We’ll be behind you all the way. And you’ve got the Rivera’s, most especially your best friend,” She chuckled. “I bet if someone bullied you in high school, Rebekah would be the first one to come to your defense.”
I had to laugh at what she said.
Thank You, I thought silently to the Big Guy. I’m afraid, but I know You’ll take care of me.
* * *
The day before the first day of high school, I was sitting in my room, fixing my things for the next day when Rebekah came barging in, all bright and cheerful. She was all excited for the next day, which was also her first day of high school.
“Isaac, why are you not answering my text messages?” Rebekah demanded. Both of us have been given mobile phones for our elementary graduation, and I haven’t really gotten the hang of using mine unlike Rebekah who seems to be permanently attached to her phone already.
“I wasn’t looking at it,” I said, and got the phone from the table. Two messages, both from Rebekah, most probably. I was right.
“I-sa-ac,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What is the purpose of mobile phones if you are not going to use them?” She plopped down my bed, and the stack of schoolbooks I placed on it almost fell on her but I caught it on time and transferred it on the table.
“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” I asked.
“You bet I am,” Rebekah said. “Angelica and I are in the same section, and we both agreed that this year, we’ll be trying out clubs that we wouldn’t think we would ever join.”
“Oh really,” I said lightly, wishing that I could be a part of their agreement.
“Yep,” she said. “And we also made a bet on how many new students there will be in our class. I’m betting around half.”
“That’s…a lot,” I said, wishing more than ever that I am not a statistic in my new school. I turned to look at the stack of spiral notebooks on my desk, waiting to be named. It’s been lying there sometime in the middle of summer, and I always put off sticking my name there because it was getting hard for me to accept.
“How about you? Are you ready?” Rebekah asked, giving me the look. I looked at her and her eyes held mine, trying to see what I was really feeling.
I paused. “I guess so.”
She raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything. Then she sat up and pulled something out from her pocket. “I have something for you.”
“Ano?”
“This,” she said, showing me a black, purple and white bracelet made out of her many balls of yarn that she recently started collecting. Rebekah’s artistic that way, she got her artistic skills from Angelica, who can make a lot of new things out of scraps. Lately, she and Angelica were doing these bracelets out of yarn and from bracelets they made bag handles, decorations and all those things that only they could think of. Rebekah’s works aren’t as artistic as to what Angelica can do, but she has her own style which I think is very…Rebekah.
“What is it?”
She reached for my right hand and tied it around my wrist. “It’s a bracelet I made last night. I hope that would bring you luck in your new school.” She smiled at me, and I was transported back into our younger years, when Rebekah would give me something she made for my birthday. I smiled at the memory.
“Thanks,” I said, looking at the bracelet around my wrist. “I will never remove this bracelet ever again!” I joked and she laughed. It may not show, but her gesture meant a lot to me. I’m just not good with these kinds of moments.
“You’ll be okay there, don’t worry,” Rebekah said. “I promise you will be. And if you aren’t…well, I’ll be here to make it a bit better.” She nudged me with her elbow.
“Thanks Bekbest,” I said, using my nickname for her.
“You’re welcome,” Rebekah replied. She stood up and pulled me up from my sitting position. “Now come on, I’ll help you with that. No name tags yet! Isaac! You better learn to get organized or else!”
“Honorable mention, and debater of the year, Rebekah Rivera.”
I watched as Rebekah’s name was called and she climbed up to the stage. Tito Ray went up to the stage too, to put Rebekah’s medal on her. When she took a bow, I saw her look our direction. Tita Clara waved at her, and I just smiled, my fingers playing with the bracelet that my best friend put on my wrist four years ago.
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