Chapter Eight: The One Where Rachel Explains Her History

"Just come inside. You're obviously not taking no for an answer and I'm not going to talk about this at any place if it isn't my own house. I'm not trying to tell the world my mishaps any time soon, and definitely not by the art of overhearing. I don't know why I'm even offering this much. I'm not obligated to tell you anything, especially when your suspecting is wrong. Consider yourself lucky." Rachel sighed, her hands stuck at her gesture to let me into her house. From her front door, the upstairs balcony looked lightyears away, and as if automatically I was trying to calculate how many floors her house had.

For a girl to live so princess-y, it's interesting she chose to attend the ordinary school down the street, instead of some prestigious one. This is where Camille would go all the time, and I never have once. I didn't have any reason to. Rachel rolled her eyes. She must be used to this kind of reaction by now. "Come in or you won't have another chance. I can have you banned from the property forever."

"Alright, alright! I'm going in!" I put my hands up by my ears as if she had the power of a cop, and in someways that wasn't necessarily that far off. A swarm of men and women in maid-like uniform surrounded her once she entered. By the look on her face, I saw that she hated it, and I have to admit, coming home to people who didn't trust you to know how to take off your own jacket would start to be annoying. I felt the need to bow at their presence, because I knew from the get-go I was a lot lower than even one of her maids. I'd never amount to that much if I sacrificed my beginning to its end. Rachel living in such luxury does make her intimidating attitude look okay. It's not, but it looks like it.

By the wrist, she had forced me to follow her for what felt like thousands, or maybe millions of stairs without a single word, until we ended up down a mini hallway with a door at the end that almost seemed as separated from the rest of the house as it could possibly get, while still being connected to it, if that makes any sense. She didn't break a sweat, she was so at ease with it, and she walked every step like she was on the red carpet, flashed by paparazzi; elegantly and confident. It's not until she situated herself comfortably on her bed that she decided to speak.

"So you saw that." She stated, putting her speech at a lull when she saw I was still taking in the scenery of her clean-finished-vibe room. "And by 'that' I mean the maids. When I get to that part of the story I don't think I'll need to go very in depth to prove that point. It's pretty self-explanatory and you're pretty smart. You should get it, regardless."

Each of my steps were reluctant in fear that I would break something. There was something in every direction that looked delicate and one bead of her necklaces were clearly way out of my budget as is, I don't want to talk about anything else. She gave me the extra push to sit next to her, which I needed, before I can get out a response. "And the maids have connection to your story with Mew because-?" I asked, feeling more comfortable, but still overly cautious. My actual personality was coming back to me, gradually.

"Oh hun, be patient if you want me telling the story at all."

"Oh hun, you're stalling." I mocked her to shield how different I felt being in these surroundings. It was hitting me how opposite our lives are. She comes from a family with an income relying on 'Omosura's Ticketing Outlet', advertising airplane travels, and my family relied on a sari sari store to earn a couple of cents. We aren't comparable, and yet surprisingly our worlds have collided. It's never hit me this hard. Teasing is all I had to conceal my awe, that worked in both good and bad ways. "You're stalling, and you're not gonna drop it."

"I am not stalling."

"Yes, you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes-."

"Okay, okay, okay! Cut it out. I'll start." Rachel hit her thigh to end our childish argument, and for a split second I saw her lip quiver from what she knew she couldn't avoid talking about. No matter how serious I view it as, it's always going to be more. I had that kind of feeling, and she confirmed that when she didn't actually get to doing what she said she would. "Just promise me you won't think of me terribly. You read the note. You know Mew promised she wouldn't. She even offered to cover this for me if the story ever got out. I know we don't always see eye to eye, but do this for Mew, will you?"

"Alright, I promise." I nodded at her. My lip started to quiver too. Whatever it was, it was clearly a lot to make Rachel the gabber want to shut her mouth, yet Camille wanted to stand up for her. I wanted to know what she was so willing to do, and Rachel was the only route to making that happen.

She blew out a long breath of air. Seeing it, I knew this was the real thing; that she'd be getting to the point. "You've seen the kind of life I live. We're not famous, but we have money. I don't want to use the word that kind of people always use, who stupidly say they 'live comfortably'. Bish, this is more than comfortable. Those people are fricking rich. I'm one of those and it sucks." She was staring down at her feet, but looked up at me when she said this like she was expecting me to have a bad reaction - as if I would be disappointed that she didn't appreciate she has everything, but I didn't. Nobody has everything, even living in something as beautiful as this place. There's always something missing because priorities vary depending on a person. She looked relieved, and by my neutral expression she went on.

"One of my wishes was to go to a normal school, even when I was in kindergarten. All the sons and daughters of my mom's friends? They own businesses or maybe they're dang supermodel creations; I knew I'd be on the bottom if I went to their schools, and I also wanted a normal life outside of the house. I thought it'd be better that way. I'm still shocked my parents let me, but they did. Of course, I should've known it wouldn't work out well. I was going to an average school, but I had the money to go to a nice one, so in an average school I should easily have higher marks than everyone all across the board, right? Wrong. Wrong for one reason. Your sister, Camille Leslie Lobrigas. Every midterm exam? Assignment? Random test for no reason? Heck, she's shy, but verbal presentations too! I was always second place, at best. Sometimes third, fourth, fifth-, and she was stable in her first place spot every single time." I watched her expression knowing that she had been observing mine a moment ago. There wasn't anger on her face; she saw Mew as a close friend, and competition didn't change that, but she was a little salty. A little.

"It got to the point that I was so ashamed to come home, because I knew my mom would tell me that I need to be more like, as she said it, 'that Camille girl', and it didn't matter how hard I tried. I just couldn't. So I relied on other possible solutions - and I decided that it didn't matter how I got to the top of the board as long as I did. It was the looks of that that seemed to be what gave my mom reason to live. It was all she worried about. I wanted her to be proud of me, and I thought I could manage to do what she wanted as long as I kept one secret from her." Rachel bit her lip, switching from that to positioning her lip into a thin line. Tears were swelling up in her eyes, but once a drop would fall she'd make sure to wipe it away fast. "I started out very flirtatious with our teacher during verbal presentations. When I did, he started assigning more of them, though he used to claim he hated them as much as we did. After a couple of months of too much of those assignments, I was sleeping with him."

"You what?" I wanted to suppress my reaction, but it slipped out anyway. I think it's fair to say the same would go for anyone.

"I know, I know. Mew is too good for my friendship. Knowing her, I think if I would've told her the truth before I did anything stupid, she would've purposely messed up some questions just to give me space to put me on top. She'd try a little less. That's how she is, but it's so selfish to ask. Too much even for me." I was so focused on the air bubble she was passing between her left and right cheek, I didn't notice she was looking straight at me when she talked.

She was paying close attention to what I could be thinking based on how much I let show on my face, until she must've noticed something; maybe she intended to answer whatever questions I might have without her having to hear it out loud. "What I did - It didn't help me out anyway. I was from then on, a consistent second placer, so I guess you could say it did help a little, but not in what I was after. The teacher said that he couldn't do that to Camille, put me in first place. She worked too hard. She was too perfect that even going as far as I did wasn't enough to move him to tamper with her grades or add to mine."

A gulp that went down her throat so harshly it looked like she wanted to puke, and then again, and again, before she got anything more out. "You're disappointed because I'm cheap. How dare a girl like that be friends with your sister? Honestly, I don't know either. She's a gem."

"Disappointed? No, Rach, I didn't say that."

"But you thought it. You had to. I would've if someone told this story to me."

"I think it's a mistake, but we're not our mistakes. We're worth more than that." My cheeks heated up. I didn't think I was lying when I defended myself from feeling disappointed, but I must've been to feel so quaky. "How was it?" I asked. I was feeling flustered, and I've made it worse, but I wanted to keep the conversation moving. I wish I could've thought of something else.

"Not impressive."

I let out a small laugh. If I was disappointed, she seemed like she was much more, in a whole other regard. "How often-?" I added for the heck of it. She seemed to be calming down, giving up on freaking out about it.

"Almost every school day when we were let out for lunch." Rachel admitted, and my eyes widened. As she usually was, we were getting to the point of the story that she didn't care about what she said because she considered the worst part to already be over. "We got caught the last time. A classmate walked into the class during lunch and we were hidden in this closet when we heard them coming. He or she must've peeked under the door to find a student and a teacher's uniform, and a rumor got out. They knew it was that teacher, but didn't know it was me. Camille confronted me after school, basically saying it was weird that I started disappearing during lunch, when we usually hung out, while the rumor was up and running. I assumed she was the one who caught us, and the next day the teacher was fired and my mom got called in. I was so pissed off at Mew because I thought she turned me in. Turns out, someone else did. I didn't know that then. My mom paid the board and principal to keep it quiet for the sake of our family name, like a crazy amount of money it basically wiped out her savings account, and the day after that, she killed herself. So much for being the daughter she was proud of, right?"

"Huh?" By now, my eyes were popping out of my head. I thought I was shocked before, but it was only climbing up. Mew knew about this, and didn't feel it was important to tell anyone? She carried so much for Rachel, on top of whatever she had to carry herself. Our own struggles are already a lot to handle.

"Yep." Rachel said simply, clasping her hands in her lap as if talking about it didn't phase her, but I could tell it did. "I went off on Camille after that, because I blamed her for everything. She was consistent saying she would've never turned me in, even if I told her the truth from the beginning because my choices are my choices. I didn't believe her. I told her she'd never get in trouble, and how much our teacher favored her no matter what I did. That's what created that last project we had together. I came out of that bet the winner. She literally used the story that asked for sex as a school project and didn't get scolded. Because of the rumor people already heard and this adding up, she was dubbed the cheap girl instead of me, and she continued to take it on for me, to support me as I suffered my loss, but she never wavered her first place spot. Midway the presentation, I did start to feel bad because I got her involved. I tried to turn the attention back over to me using flirting. It didn't help much. Maybe a little but not enough. By time it was over I was still mad at Mew; I thought she was responsible for my trouble. Or I wanted her to be, I guess. I'm a bad person. I didn't want to get in trouble by myself. Especially knowing if I lead that presentation, I would've been expelled, but she was rewarded good marks."

The air stilled for a few, and I didn't know if I liked it or if I didn't. Taking in anymore information would be too much, but being given the time to ponder on everything she said was too much too. Either way, the outcome was near to the same. Just as well she continue talking so it's over with.

"So, ever since I started saying my mom is shy, or sick, or busy at work, she was, well, dead. The day Camille passed, I was at my mom's funeral, mourning her death. It was my fault she died, and we didn't have much family nearby that would care to pay their respects, so I had to be there. To at least do that much. There was way too much going on in one week then." Rachel stood up, stretching, her back all she allowed me to see. I assumed she was trying to recuperate after jumping back into the past, and it made sense, why she lied before. Yet here she was now, open about every little detail.

"I never thought Camille committed suicide, but I did want you guys to know what it felt like to lose someone that way, and know for sure that's how it happened. You were able to debate her way of death, and that debate was your hope. I didn't have that. My mom killed herself and the proof was the rope around her neck when I found her. All hope was for me was a shooter getting a three pointer to beat the other team by one on the buzzer, or the bus running a little late so you can get on it after waking up past your alarm, but that doesn't mean that your team starts winning or you get to class on time. Hope was painful for me. It was a terrible thing, because the kind I wanted was impossible and the kind I had was only in the little things."

She turned back to look at me. I noticed now how the white part in her eyes that usually sparkled with her jewelry was going red, and she wasn't dotted in the riches per usual, but this time she didn't try to hide any part of her imperfections. It made her seem a little bit more like me. A little more relatable, and a little more down to earth, but I wasn't necessarily right that we knew each other as much as I thought we did, even after all that. "Besides, Shang. I understand fully why you'd suspect me to be behind Mew's murder with the evidence you scrounged up, but it's completely impossible for me to have done it because of the emotional, yeah, but mostly physical state I was in."

"The physical state you were in?" I mumbled, confused enough that I repeated what she said so confidently, or more like it was old news.

"Did I not mention already? I was pregnant."