(UNTITLED)

Entry No. 2

IV

My sister started writing on her diary when she was just ten years old. We never talk much, her being older than I am by three years. By the time I was old enough to be influenced by computer games and video arcades, my mother saw it as an opportunity for her to finally persuade me to start a journal of my own. I complied, thinking I could outsmart her by scribbling nonsense on every page of my little notebook.

After she bought me my PC, I would proudly wave at her the page where I scribbled nonsense on my diary. Sort of telling her that I’m doing my part of the bargain. As I’ve said earlier, no one among us reads another family member’s journal. That was a golden rule. My mom would smile. I would laugh hysterically at the back of my mind thinking that I outsmarted her.

At first, it seemed like an easy task. I started writing down all the animals I could think of. That was entry number one to entry number five. Then, I listed down in a letter-like fashion all the elements in the periodic table until I fill up a page. That was entry number six to entry number eleven. There were times when I would just sing a song and write the lyrics down. I figured that after two years, my mom would no longer need to be assured that I write on my diary.

Sample: August 24, 1989 (Entry No. 1)
Dear Diary,
Ants antelope armadillo anteater bear butterfly bat bird bobcat cat camel caterpillar catfish carrion candor dog duck deer dragonfly dogfish eagle elephant eel earthworm falcon fish flying fish fox, etc., etc., etc., . . and so on, and so on. . . .


V
“Hey lighter guy,” she said. “I never thought I’d see you here. What’s up?”

I flashed a smile.

“Aren’t you gonna speak up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” I answered.

“Want a smoke?” she was teasing.

“Sure. But not here. The guards might see us.”

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll treat you to a sundae, ok.”

“Alright.”

We went outside the campus and went straight to where the college guys hangout. I was waiting for her to buy me a cigarette but she did not. Not knowing how to start a conversation, I just sat there, mixing all the stuff on my sundae. She stared at me for awhile as I was about to say something. I just closed my mouth.

“Aren’t you going to say something? I mean, hello! Do I have bad breath or something?” her eyes were wide open and I managed to smile.

“What do you want me to ask you?”

“Well, anything. Normal people are supposed to get acquainted, aren’t they?”

“Okay,” I said, smiling. “What is it again that you want me to ask you?”

She opened her mouth in disbelief.

“You are weird, aren’t you?”

Even before she was able to finish that sentence, I murmured.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?” she shot back. “Okay, okay. Let’s just eat.”

She concentrated on finishing her sundae.

“You really love ice cream, don’t you?” I asked.

“You really are weird, aren’t you?”

One could tell that we were having a good time.

“Well, weirdness is - ” but before I could finish my sentence, she continued.

“Well, I like weird guys. The last time I met someone like that was. . . .” she did not finish her sentence. There was an awkward pause.

“I have a question. Why do you want to hang-out with me?”

She looked at me, as if trying to answer my question in silence. “Well. . . . you look nice and. . .”

“And?”

“And. . . you look like my brother.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll race you towards school.” With that, she sprung from her feet and ran towards the gate. I followed her though my bag was being a nuisance. I almost fell.

I looked at my watch. It was almost five.

“Bye,” she said. Then she gave me a light kiss on the cheek. She then ran away.

“Hey,” I yelled.

But she was gone. I brushed my hand on the side of the cheek where she kissed it. I bought my first cigarette that day.