My innocent and young mind did not know the reason why we stayed on the streets, or why dad was not with us. I just thought of the fascinating city lights. I even tried to chase after the cars if not of my mother who scolded me like that was her last night.
Not only that, but I could see how angry she was at me. She blamed me for why we are staying on the street, and why dad was put to jail, and why our house was burned. She scolded me like there was no tomorrow. Furthermore, she spanked me hard, even slapped me in my both cheeks.
I cried because of so much fear and pain.
And in that one night, I saw how cruel the world was. And still up to the present, I could still experience the cruelty in both my school and in my own home.
Home. Is it really... where the heart is?
I took a step forward. I walked closer to the nipa hut and entered in. A few more steps and I could enter the small kitchen.
And I saw mother. She was silently taking a sip on her small bowl of soup. "Take some soup," she said without looking up at me.
I silently heaved a sigh and sat on the other side. I quietly pour some soup on my bowl when she said something.
"Pour more. You need to finish the soup."
I gulped. "O-Okay."
My insides curled. I was still scared of my own mother.
The memories of my childhood never ever leave my memory. They stayed there like an old friend, who visited me from time to time to remind me that they were still there, and I could count on them when I need them.
But I didn't need those memories.
I didn't like to have them!
But every time I tried to run away from those memories, they keep on chasing after me. They were chasing close enough to touch me. And in those times, I knew, I could not escape them.
They had already made a home in my mind.
IT WAS unusually quiet. My classmates talked less, and I find it weird since I knew that they were really talkative. Maybe this morning was different.
I silently walked in the aisle and sat on my chair at the back. I looked around, but nothing's weird except the stillness of my classmates. They were really quiet.
I wanted to ask my seatmate on what happened, but I knew that no one will answer me. I shrugged my shoulder. It was the usual response.
I opened my backpack and got my notebook. Today's first subject was Math, and I sucked on this subject the most. I didn't know why I could not get the right solutions for math problems.
It was really easy if the teacher was demonstrating it to us, but when I got the term paper and read new math problem, I always end up staring the test paper wondering how to answer such strange and new math problems. I always ended up in a panicked state where my mind stopped processing.
"Good morning," someone greeted from the front.
I looked at the one who strolled happily towards the teacher's table at the front. At first, I did not recognize him but when he stood firm and looked at the whole class, my mouth opened slightly in awe.
He was the guy yesterday, the witness of the 'dead' kitten. I blinked twice, but yeah, I guess he's really standing in front of the class.
"Good morning, Sir!" my classmates greeted.
He looked again the whole class and gestured us to stand up. "We'll have some activity where I'll introduce myself to you, and all of you introduce yourself to me," he said.
My classmates looked unto each other. I just nodded slightly, hoping that he will not notice me ---
"Miss, with silky black hair at the back," the teacher called.
I breathed deeply and smiled. "Yes, Sir?"
"Would you please stay here in front?"
His favor to me silenced the whole class. My lips parted slightly as I contemplated if I heard him right. I did not raise my hand nor said something to get his attention.
And I was sure that my classmates thought of this as a weird start of the class.
"You want me to go in front, Sir?" I asked.
I want to clarify if I heard it right or nah. Maybe my ears betrayed me.
Anthony, as what he told me yesterday as his name, nodded with a little creased forehead. "I don't want to repeat myself, Miss."
Oh. I guess he's a strict teacher. I just shrugged my shoulders and walked past the classroom's aisle. The scourging stare of my classmates made my scalp go numb. They wondered why the teacher picked me, and so was I.
As a matter of fact, I was not the first option. This was the first time that someone picked me first.
"Now that you are here," Anthony whispered. He stalked closer to me and handed something. "Write down the names of your classmates on the chalkboard, including yours."
"Sir?"
His lips formed a small smile. "You want me to repeat myself?"
I immediately shook my head. "I-I understand, Sir."
I got the stick of the chalk from his hand and started writing on the chalkboard. I breathed deeply as my lips started to quiver.
"Make it a table like list, with four columns and five rows."
I silently looked at him and our eyes instantly met. I looked back to the chalkboard and focused my attention to writing the names of my classmates.
Four columns and five rows...
I did what he instructed me to do, but in the middle of writing, I quietly stopped and looked at the class. The truth was I only knew a handful of names of my classmates.
I did not know the whole class, just half of them. And those I knew were once became my group mates or pair during an activity. So how am I going to write all of their names?
"Miss?"
I blinked and looked at the teacher. He should not pick me up in the first place. Right then, I just hope that he did not pick me first.
"I could not write them down, Sir." I looked on the floor.
"And why?" he asked.
There was a hint of playfulness in his tone. I wanted to confront him, but I did not want to shame him in front of his class or talk as if he was not a teacher. I did not want to be rude, so I just shyly smiled at him.