Is there a way that I can shut Dani up and still succeed in managing my emotions?
As I’m about to turn down Dani for the tenth time today, my sister unexpectedly comes to my rescue.
“Ms. Ilagan!” Dani gets distracted and runs over when she spots Achi. My sister quickly wears her resting constipated face once she hears Dani’s voice. It’s my sister’s expression whenever she has to deal with difficult customers at the bakery.
“Did you get to review my recent student council proposal?” Dani asks. “The action plan about ensuring appropriate behavior during club events? We want to make sure weallpractice appropriation.”
Achi sighs and tilts her head at Dani (way more politely than when she does it with me). “Yes, I got your twenty emails. Have you signed up for that social justice workshop that I recommended?”
After Achi and I take turns trying to shake off Dani, Achi swipes us both out and we’re finally leaving Saint Agnes school grounds.
I’m still making sure that Dani isn’t following us when Achi hands me a paper bag. “In case you’re hungry.”
It’s one of her fancy bento lunch boxes packed with noodles.
Hold up.
“Did you make me pancit canton?” I gape at my sister.
“They’re special Japanese noodles.”
I open the box and eat some using the chopsticks placed inside. The chilimansi flavor already wafts through my nose before I take a bite. “Definitely pancit canton,” I say through more bites.
“Again, special. Japanese. Noodles.” Achi continues insisting on the lie.
“Wow.” I smile and look up at her. “You must feelreallyguilty about lying to me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t lie to you.”
“You didn’t tell me about Ma trying on wedding dresses,” I point out. “That’s hiding the truth. Definition of lying.”
“That’s not the same as lying.”
“Still felt like a lie,” I say, grumbling. I hate how my voice sounds like a little kid’s.
And I hate how my sister is now looking at me like I’m a little kid too.
“Sorry na, okay?”
I ignore her and focus on my special Japanese noodles.
She tries again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
My heart twists at Achi’s offer. I never considered confiding in her about Pa… yet maybe, she would know what to do?
Achi then switches to lecture mode. “You can’t blame Ma for wanting to keep the dress fitting a secret. Look how you acted during the ting hun, at the memorial. You even insulted Uncle Derrick’s barista skills.”
And just like that, all hope empties out of my chest.
“I was givingDr.Derrick constructive criticism.”
“Well, give nicer criticism,” she says. “He took time off from his clinic to help out again today.”
“What? He’s there again?!”
Great. Just what I need, watching Dr. Derrick and his sluggish coffee-making insert himself in Ma’s business.
When we round the corner of Buns by Beth’s street, I stop when I see a pale, ghostly white figure hovering by the storefront.
