She staggers back with my question. “Is he… with us?” Kayla suddenly ducks and raises her arms to the side. “Did I accidentally hit him? How long has he been here?!”
I move her arms down and tell her he isn’t here. “Why do you believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because the story sounds crazy,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t believe it if you told me.”
Kayla sighs and swivels my chair so I face her. “How long have we been best friends?”
“Probably since our moms’ first sonogram,” I joke.
“Yeah, and you never talk about your dad. Not since… well, since what happened,” she says. “So if you’re telling me that his ghost came back, I believe you.”
Then she adds, “Best friends.”
My heart squeezes at that. “So does that mean you’ll defend me… even if I murder nine people?”
Kayla rolls her eyes. “My parents wouldn’t approve.”
“Auntie Gracelovesme,” I remind her. “Didn’t she extend your curfew because we’re together?”
“Yeah, but she’ll never let me leave church if she finds out I’m friends with a murderer,” Kayla says, and I laugh. When I click open a new window on my sister’s computer, I suddenly notice a shortcut that’s labeledSecret.
… My sister can’t label a folder in her computerSecretand expect me tonotopen it.
Oh my god.
My sister’s such a hypocrite!!!
Achi kept gloating about how responsible she was, how Ma entrusted her with Ma’s red notebook while all this time, my sister scannedeverything.
“What’s that?” Kayla asks.
“My sister’s betrayal.”
She categorized all of Ma’s superstitions into different tabs—New Year,health,love,death. Achi even highlighted and added notes in the margins for Ma’s superstitions for taking exams.
BesideWear red undergarments to attract good luck!, my achi wrote,2011 medicine boards topnotcher allegedly wore red briefs and ate a red empanada. She didn’t even type it. It’s in her signature scratchy handwriting!
There’s even physical proof that Achi made copies of Ma’s notebook behind her back! I take several screenshots for insurance. The next time Achi tries to throw out my pancit canton stash, I’ll haveleverage.
“Wait,” Kayla says when I’m about to email myself all the evidence. “There was a paragraph there about death superstitions.”
“These are just random superstitions that Ma writes down. They never make any sense—”
Kayla then takes the mouse and scrolls through the page. She keeps gasping the more she takes in. “This aligns with everything you’ve been telling me about your dad.”
Pagpag superstition: Don’t go home immediately after a wake or risk spirits following you home.
“Well, Pa’s ghost showed up a day after I didn’t pagpag, and technically it wasn’t his wake…”
“Butterfly superstition.” Kayla reads another entry. “Butterflies are a sign of a dead loved one making their presence felt.”
Before I can argue, Kayla says, “True or false. Didn’t you say that a butterfly appeared right before you saw your dad? And isn’t that a sign of a loved one making their presence felt?”
“You know, it’s hard to do true or false when you give two statements at the same time.”
She chooses to ignore my very valid point.
