Seph then pulls out his phone and shows his conversation with Ma.
Can you walk Nika to the bakery?—Beth
Ugh. That’s definitely Ma. She’s the only person I know who signs off every message with her name.
“I’m not a dog. I don’t need to be walked.”
“Yeah, you can actually train a dog,” Seph adds, and I shoot him a glare.
“I don’t need a chaperone,” I emphasize. “And I’m already going home with Achi.”
It’s bad enough that my mom doesn’t trust me to brave the dauntingfive-minute walk from school to Buns by Beth, she also linked my school ID to my sister’s so I can’t even leave the Saint Agnes premises without her.
“Oo nga pala. Achi Jackie said she was going to be late and gave me this…,” he says, reaching for his pocket. “You need this to get out, right?” He pulls out my sister’s ID and slips the lanyard around his neck. “I guess this makes me your chaperone.”
He grins at me and I resist the urge to rip the lanyard off his body.
3
Maybe Seph caught a cold from his exposed chest. It’s the only rational explanation for why he’s acting super suspicious today. First of all, he paid for my food.
As soon as we step outside the school grounds, we’re greeted by Mang Willie’s famous “Tahoooooooo!” Mang Willie is a staple across all batches for being the Saint Agnes and Saint Francis go-to taho vendor. Ever since I was in kindergarten, he’d be outside the school gate every dismissal carrying two aluminum buckets filled with soybean custard.
As Mang Willie starts pouring the pearls and syrup into plastic cups, Seph hands him enough cash for two orders.
“Libre ko,” he says when I try paying him back. “Chaperone’s treat.”
The second red flag in Seph’s behavior is when he starts complimenting me.
“Did you get a haircut?”
“Uh yeah, by a few inches.” I hold on to the ends so it doesn’t look so short. “The hairdresser I usually go to isn’t free until the weekend, but Ma insisted I get my hair cut on Monday since Mondays symbolize ‘new beginnings.’”
Then he says, “It’s nice.”
I’m already brainstorming possible comebacks for his inevitable teasing, but Seph doesn’t say anything else.
“Like, nice for a Shih Tzu?”
“No.”
“A Chow Chow?”
“It’s nice for a girl… person.” Seph doesn’t take the bait and confuses me further. “Your hair looks nice.”
I study him and hold him off before he scoops another spoonful of his taho. “Why are you being weird?”
“I just complimented you.”
“Yeah,” I point out. “Weird.”
“Aren’t compliments supposed to be nice?”
“You being nice isweird,” I emphasize, and suddenly question the free food in my hand.
Seph avoids eye contact and fidgets with his plastic cup. “I figured you had a lot going on with… Sunday coming up,” he says, and my insides freeze. “Didn’t want to put you in a worse mood.”
“How do you know about Sunday?”
