Prologue
Mara was eight when Adrian told her she was going to have an ugly daughter.
It happened during summer vacation, sometime after lunch, when both of them had been told to stay outside because Adrian’s grandmother was taking a nap.
They were sitting on overturned monobloc chairs beside the sari-sari store across from Mara’s house.
Adrian had a melting ice candy in one hand.
Mara had already finished hers.
“You’ll have an ugly daughter,”he said.
Mara looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“Because you’re ugly.”
Mara kicked his chair.
It tipped sideways.
Adrian grabbed the edge of the table before he fell.
“Ay!”
“You deserved it.”
“I didn’t even do anything.”
“You called me ugly.”
“I said your daughter would be ugly.”
“Same thing.”
Adrian thought about this.
“Okay.”
He took another bite of his ice candy.
“My daughter will be prettier.”
Mara stared at him.
“You don’t even have a girlfriend.”
“I’ll get one.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then how do you know she’ll be pretty?”
“Because I’m going to choose.”
Mara laughed.
“You think people are things you choose?”
Adrian shrugged.
“My mama chooses everything.”
From inside the house, someone shouted his name.
“Adrian! Don’t bother Mara!”
“We’re not fighting!”he shouted back.
Mara raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not?”
“No.”
“We’re definitely fighting.”
“No, we’re having a discussion.”
“You pushed me yesterday.”
“You pushed me first.”
“You stole my pencil.”
“You weren’t using it.”
“You broke it.”
“It was already broken.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was.”
Mara crossed her arms.
Adrian finished the ice candy and threw the stick into the trash can from where he sat.
He missed.
He stood up, picked it up, and tried again.
This time, it went in.
“See?”
“See what?”
“I’m good at things.”
Mara rolled her eyes.
Adrian sat back down.
“My daughter will still be prettier.”
Mara looked toward the road.
A tricycle passed, its engine rattling loudly enough to cover the television playing inside someone’s house.
She thought about it.
Then she held out her hand.
“Bet.”
Adrian looked at her palm.
“What?”
“We bet.”
“On what?”
“Whose daughter is prettier.”
Adrian’s face brightened.
“Mine.”
“You haven’t even had one.”
“Still mine.”
“And if mine is prettier?”
“You lose.”
“That’s not how betting works.”
“Okay. I lose.”
“And what do I get?”
Adrian frowned.
They had no money.
Neither of them owned anything worth betting.
Mara looked around.
“I don’t know.”
“My marbles.”
“You don’t have to give me your marbles.”
“Then your stickers.”
“No.”
“My toy car?”
“No.”
Adrian thought for a moment.
“Bragging rights.”
Mara laughed.
“Fine.”
They shook hands.
It was a serious handshake.
At least, it was serious to them.
“Deal,”Adrian said.
“Deal.”
Mara pulled her hand back.
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
“You always forget.”
“I don’t.”
“You forgot your homework yesterday.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I didn’t want to remember it.”
Mara laughed.
Adrian laughed too.
Then his grandmother opened the front door.
“Both of you! Come inside. Merienda!”
They ran.
The bet stayed on the plastic table.
So did the empty ice candy wrapper Adrian had missed when he threw it away.
Neither of them thought about the bet again that afternoon.
They had other things to argue about.
Who got the bigger slice of banana bread.
Who cheated during tumbang preso.
Who was better at Mario Kart.
Who got to sit beside the electric fan.
There would always be something.
For the next several years, there usually was.
