Chapter Five: The One Where The Past Comes Back

"Hello, as you all know, I am Camille L. Lobrigas, the group leader of our English-recite presentation assignment with my team, Rachel G. Omosura, Blaire Y. Dalagan, Gwen J. Dela Cruz and Vivian N. Tatayan. In our process, we went through many disagreements, but after careful consideration were able to come to a solid harmony and I'm extremely proud of everyone for that. Thank you for your attention. We will begin, sir."

I watched intently at the video that went up on social media from one of her classmates a while back. Camille, with as confident as her words sounded by themselves, was so nervous her voice and the index cards in her hands shook. Standing in front of a class was always a big dislike to her, but because she was so reserved to herself she could never argue when people appointed her the leader of group projects. Because of it, here she was, playing the main role for an assignment in front of her classmates and teacher.

Most the time, people liked when she took it on too, because nearly every teacher had a soft spot for her, especially since she knew how to appeal to their interest and knew what they were looking out for. She used their likes to her advantage, meaning better grades. She might not talk much, but she was good with observation.

Still, this time, she looked more anxious than ever. I assumed it was because she wasn't confident enough with her preparation, and nothing more. That's normal. It's student life, but I couldn't help this time around to remember that this was also the last project Camille had with Rachel before she passed. Maybe the last project overall, for as much as I know.

"And by solid agreement, she means that she forced us all to go along with her idea even though we had everything planned out and under control so that it went her way." Rachel said, already irritated before they had a chance to start. They haven't done anything yet, and she had to throw a fit. The eye roll stage was already beginning. "Or as I was directed to say by the precious group leader, these lines were iconic pieces of a series that will always be remembered and have no other intentions, so boys, don't get your hopes up."

The second part of her sentence came with a contradicting wink, as she was playing discreetly at the waistband of her uniform's plaid skirt, until it rose up higher above her knee and eventually mid-way up her thigh. In fact, it was somehow so discreet that the last time I saw the video I didn't notice it, and shockingly neither did anyone point it out in the comment section. We watched for a class presentation, so it wasn't a priority focus, I guess. She's not even leader, but dang did she want the attention of one.

The twirling of a strand of her hair; not as discreet. It was typical of her attitude and the class knew it. They even laughed at her comment like it was funny, which it could be; everyone knew normally Camille wasn't one to boss anyone around, but maybe too, it's because she was shining in glamour and she got everything she wanted. If she wanted laughter, people will laugh for her.

Mew still winced at the comment anyhow, like someone put alcohol on an open wound. Rachel was worser than I thought. She knew too well that she was pretty in regards to face and body, and felt the need to rub it in, regardless of how close they have a bond with her. It made her disgusting, and intolerable at least for me. Mew put up with her for years. Her whole life, really, and didn't complain once. It's weird to me. It doesn't sit right. What did she ever see in her?

Is she that shy that she can't tell someone to leave her alone? She couldn't stand up for herself? The Lobrigas blood has always been the soft spoken type for the most part, but never once do we lose fights like that. We're shy until it crosses the boundaries, unless we have instinct otherwise to stay in our lane. How wide our lane is is what we disagree on, but crossing it has never been allowed. Was this not crossing the line for Mew?

"Alright, then. Calm down with the attitude, Rachel." Their teacher's voice sounded from behind the cameras. I never had the chance to meet him properly, though during certain school events Mew did point him out to me from a distance. I couldn't bet I'd be able to find him among a crowd, but based on his voice he sounded young. Young to be a teacher, at least. "Anyway, Team Mew, please start now so we have time for everyone today. We have to get this done before exams."

Camille's breathing was increasingly trembling, and to stall a little bit of time, she set the cards down on a desk near to the front, and brushed at her clothes to supposedly make it more proper-looking before she could get herself to listen to her teacher's command. When she began though, her intonation and monologue was captivating, as if she completely forgot she was anxious. "Years ago, when I was backpacking across Western Europe, I was just outside Barcelona, hiking in the foothills of Mount Tibidabo. I was at the end of this path, and I came to a clearing, and there was a lake, very secluded, and there were tall trees all around."

From the angle of the camera, you could only see a few students that were assigned seating at the front of the classroom, but regardless, you could feel the entire class, them and those behind them jolt when they heard the reference. Their teacher himself cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable with their decision to present this. It seemed off to a bad start, but it didn't stop her from continuing. If I'm not mistaken, it motivated her.

After all, the Friends series is one of the only bridges that exist to tie together the newer generation to the previous one, and everyone knew, whether they watched it or not, that it was a way of asking for sex. Definitely seems out of line for a school project, but I didn't have reason to question it when I saw it then, or now, even if I was surprised. I assumed Mew must've realized something to allow it to be done. She's responsible.

"It was dead silent. Gorgeous. And across the lake I saw a beautiful woman, bathing herself, but she was crying." Another member of the group went on. Besides Mew and Rachel, I didn't recognize them, but smoothly and without difficulty, they each went through their parts without mistake, each getting more confident than the last.

When finishing, they all bowed, proud of their work, but the faces of the two familiar ones I've always known were both sincerely urgent to get an opinion out of their teacher. Camille did this quietly and in secret, her expression alone giving it away, but Rachel didn't care how sassy she had to get to speed it along. "Don't you have any thoughts, teacher?" She asked.

As the shaky camera turned to face him, too quickly it could make the world dizzy, he appeared by his stance that he didn't want to answer even if his face was unclear. Standing around for a couple of seconds, he obviously thought about what to say and what would be the right way to approach it, but in his final thought, he didn't seem disappointed.

"Mew," he began, addressing the leader of the group, "I think you made a bold move today. It's risky, but I appreciate that you were willing to try something new. We're always pleased to hear more of your communication. Your choice was one that almost everyone is familiar with, and you brought a very fluent delivery. Thanks for your hard work. Expect good marks. You may return to your seats."

Oddly, Mew's face fell to the good news, hurt, and I think - afraid. It took her an extra moment to listen than the rest of her group did, and head back to where they normally sit, which didn't happen much. She's always very aware of what's going on.

When she got back to her senses enough, it's the first time I paid attention to Rachel, out of all the times I've come across this video. She had the most angry glare on her face, bee line to Mew, every step she took, and I had to jump to pause the clip to confirm what I was seeing. It was very real, I couldn't make it up.

Mew noticed her too, gulping so hard you could nearly see the saliva itself force it's way back down her throat, as if she was supposed to be ashamed of a good mark she earned for the whole team. There had to be more that I didn't see. Something happened between the two of them that the video didn't show.

"September 18th, 2020." I murmured the date that the video was uploaded under my breath. It was five days before she passed, much too close to believe that what happened to them, whatever it was, didn't contribute to what would end up the last day of her life.

I peered in closer to the screen, blinking my eyes at a faster rate to get through the pain of the brightness that was already dimmed as far as it could get, like doing that would actually help me get more of what I was missing. All I could see is this girl Mew has always known, but not what made her so mad. I could see her writing away in a notebook, that she tossed across the room when the teacher had his back turned, skillfully looking for such an opportunity, but not what it was she had to say.

As the last moments of the video were ticking down, the blue colored book flew through the air, I caught sight of this little bit of gold in the center, a sticker Mew put there to tell it apart from the others. If it belongs to her, then we should still have it with us. I have to find it. It's not like a girl would be completely backwards for no reason, reacting badly to good news and vice versa. I don't think anybody would do that if everything was going right. I have to know what went wrong. Something definitely did.

"Miss Crish! Can I have an ice cream?" A young boy's voice called from outside, as I was about to start scurrying up the stairs to her room. If he wouldn't of, I would've forgotten that I was watching the store on our first floor. Rarely anybody came by anymore anyway. Once someone knows that somebody died in this place, nobody wants to come back. Our livelihood runs on nothing now, basically.

"Of course you can. What kind do you want?" I turned back, forcing myself not to leave him there, and go up anyway; to be a decent human being despite what lead I thought I had. He had to be eight years old at most; I didn't know him very well, but I know he's from the neighborhood, and he was always playing with the other kids in the area.

He was smiling a big smile as he looked up at me from outside. "Chocolate please, Miss." He requested, sliding a coin across the wood material separating us. I headed back further into the store after nodding as happily as I could to find the freezer of our cold goods. As I searched for what he asked for, he continued yelling in from outside, random things like kids tend to do. "What's your biggest physical insecurity, Miss?"

I chuckled out of surprise he would ask that kind of question, the cold plastic-wrapped cone held gently in my hand when I made my way back to him. I wanted to ask why he would say something like that, but I didn't expect much of an answer from a little boy, and I decided to answer him directly. "My nose, probably." I admitted, handing him his request. "I don't like the shape."

"Miss Mew used to tell me you'd say that." He answered innocently, and I could feel the flow of blood from the extra beats of my heart when he said her name. I leaned against a nearby wall, wondering what he meant, but I didn't have to, because he wasn't finished. His pause was out of the strength it put into opening his dessert. "She said you hate your nose shape, but she said she's jealous of it. Then she told me to remember that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Some people have confidence they're pretty but not everyone will think so, and others look down on themselves but people find them beautiful. She said, in conclusion, screw it. Everything isn't what it seems. She's so cool."

"You spoke with her before, sweetie? What's your name?" I ruffled his hair a bit, and lightly pinched the cheeks that still held his baby fat. I laughed at the idea that she was at one point speaking so profoundly with a child his age, and also at the idea that she taught him the term 'screw it'. It summed up the girl in her that I knew. Comfortable around kids, and firm in her beliefs, whatever it is that they are.

"I'm Samuel, Miss. Mew always called me Sammy." That bright smile never left his face. It was always there. "I miss her. I wish she'd come back."

"I do too, Sammy. Believe me, I do too."