1
The second semester started with a quiet kind of chaos.
I transferred sections on purpose. From the second section to the last section. Section whatever-they-called-it. I didn’t bother memorizing the name. What mattered was this: I didn’t know anyone here, and no one knew me. That was exactly how I wanted it.
Immaculate College felt the same as always—cream-colored walls, electric fans buzzing like they were about to give up, bulletin boards still cluttered with last semester’s announcements. But stepping into a new classroom felt different. Like I pressed reset without asking permission.
I walked in with my bag slung over one shoulder, phone in my hand. I could feel eyes already. I always do. I’m 5’2, not tall, but people still look. Maybe it’s the long matcha-brown hair I don’t bother tying unless I have to. Or the piercings—helix, conch, and three lobes on both ears. Or maybe it’s just my face. I’ve been told I look serious. Resting bitch face, they say. I don’t correct them.
A girl walked beside me—talkative, loud, the type who already had friends in every corner of the campus. She was transferred too, but for different reasons. She kept glancing around, smiling at people she didn’t even know.
“Grabe, ang tahimik dito,” she whispered, laughing. “Parang walang buhay.”
I just hummed in response.
There were only twenty-five students. I counted automatically. Five boys were already sitting together in front, chairs slightly turned toward each other, laughing too loudly for eight in the morning. The rest were scattered. I chose the back. Always the back. Last row, corner seat. Less attention. More control.
I sat down, placed my bag neatly, and crossed my legs. My nails were clean and long, tapping lightly on my phone screen as I opened Wattpad. Koi had messaged me already.
Good luck today. New start, right?
I smiled faintly and typed back.
Mika sat beside me a few minutes later. She didn’t ask. She just dropped into the seat like it was already decided.
“Okay lang ba? ” she said, half-smiling. “Dito na lang ako. Ayoko sa harap, nakaka-pressure.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
She smelled like vanilla. She had this easy energy—not loud, not fake. Comfortable. She glanced at my phone.
“Wattpad? ”
“Yes.”
“Same. Anong genre? "
"Psychological. Sci-fi. Depends on the day.”
“Uy, sosyal,” she laughed. “Ako puro romcom lang. Pang-escape.”
I didn’t judge. Escape was escape.
Around us, voices started overlapping.
“Pre, last section daw ’to, sure ka?”
“Wala na tayong choice, bro.”
“Okay lang ’yan, chill lang.”
I listened without looking. Observing came naturally to me. The five boys in front were already forming some kind of alliance. Loud but not threatening. Just… boys.
The bell rang.
The first day meant introductions and officers’ selection. Groans echoed around the room.
“Ayaw ko maging officer! ”
“Ikaw na, ikaw na! ”
“Pass ako, bes.”
I stayed quiet. Mika leaned toward me.
“Di ka tatakbo, no? ” she whispered. “No.” “Good. Same.”
Names were thrown around. Hands raised. Someone volunteered someone else without consent.
“Uy, siya na lang, mukha namang responsible! ”
“Hoy, wag ako! ”
I watched. Took notes mentally. Who talked too much. Who avoided eye contact. Who laughed when nervous.
When they asked for presidential nominations, silence stretched. Then one of the boys in front said, “Si ano… ikaw na lang, pre. Ikaw ’yung mukhang leader.”
I rolled my eyes internally.
Classes moved on. By late morning, we had our first discussion-heavy subject. The topic on the board was written in thick chalk:
LOVE VS. MONEY
DIPLOMA VS. DISKARTE
The room immediately got louder.
“Syempre, love! ”
“Uy, hindi ka mabubuhay sa love!”
“Diskarte pa rin!”
The teacher divided us into groups. Unfortunately, groupings meant interaction. I ended up grouped with Mika and three of the boys in front. I didn’t know their names. I didn’t ask.
“Okay, simulan na natin,” one of them said. “Love vs money, muna.”
“Money muna,” another said quickly. “Practical tayo.”
“Grabe ka naman, walang puso,” someone joked.
They looked at me.
“Uy, ikaw, anong take mo? ” Mika nudged me gently.
I put my phone down and looked up. Five pairs of eyes. Waiting.
“Money,” I said calmly. “Not because love is unimportant, but because survival comes first. Love becomes a burden when basic needs are unmet. Financial stability gives people the freedom to choose love without desperation.”
“Wow,” one of the boys muttered. “English agad.”
“Pero di ba parang ang cold nun? ” another said. “Parang ang sad.”
“It’s realistic,” I replied. “Love doesn’t pay rent. Love doesn’t guarantee security. But money doesn’t cancel love either. It just creates a safer space for it.”
“Eh, diploma vs. diskarte? ” Mika asked.
“Both are tools,” I said. “A diploma gives credibility. Diskarte gives adaptability. Choosing one over the other limits potential. The system values credentials, but reality rewards problem-solving.”
The boys exchanged looks.
“Grabe,” one laughed. “Parang debate team.”
“Pero gets,” another said. “May point.”
Across the room, debates got heated.
“Eh kung may diskarte ka, kahit walang diploma—”
“Hindi lahat may privilege!”
“Hoy, chill lang!”
I stayed composed. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.
Lunch came faster than expected.
The cafeteria was noisy, with long tables filled with overlapping conversations and clattering trays. Mika and I sat together. She talked about her old section, her friends, and how she hated math.
“Same,” I said. “Math hates me too.”
“Talaga? ” she laughed. “Akala ko matalino ka sa lahat.”
“Science, literature, history, and English,” I corrected. “Math is a different universe.”
She smiled. “At least honest.”
After lunch, we had a quiz in one of our subjects. Ten items. I finished early. Confident. I checked my answers twice.
When quizzes were returned, I noticed something immediately.
–2 points.
I stared at the item.
The question asked for the full name of a scientist.
I wrote the correct first name and last name. For the middle name, I wrote the initial. Just the initial.
I raised my hand.
“Sir,” I said, voice steady. “May I clarify the deduction on item number seven? ”
He nodded. Allowed me to speak.
“I answered the question correctly. The scientist’s identity is clear. The use of a middle initial does not change the correctness of the answer.”
“The instruction asked for the full name,” he said calmly.
“I understand,” I replied. “However, academic standards often accept middle initials as valid representations, especially when the full identity is not ambiguous. The answer demonstrates complete understanding of the concept.”
The room went quiet.
Someone whispered, “Grabe, dalawang puntos lang ’yan.”
I continued, still respectful. “I’m not questioning your authority, sir. I’m asking for reconsideration based on academic accuracy.”
He paused. Thought about it.
“I appreciate how you explained your side,” he said. “The answer is correct in substance, but instructions matter. I’ll stand by the deduction.”
I nodded. “Understood. Thank you for hearing me out.”
That was it. No drama. No disrespect.
When I sat back down, Mika leaned in.
“Grabe ka,” she whispered. “Kung ako ’yan, tinanggap ko na lang.”
“I don’t argue for points,” I said. “I argue for correctness.”
She smiled as she understood.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted but satisfied. I didn’t make friends. I didn’t try to. I observed. I spoke when necessary. I stayed in my own world.
That night, I lay on my bed, phone glowing as I read messages from Koi and my online friends. The last section. New faces. New space.
No ex. No history.
Just me, starting over—exactly the way I wanted.
