Page 81
That’s not it, either.
No matter how much I edit, this photo doesn’t look right, and I can’t put my finger on why. I zoom in, zoom out, then zoom back in to Jase’s family.
Until I only see mine.
I was eight years old when my family and I had a picnic at Curtain Lake. We feasted on pork adobo, inihaw na bangus, inihaw na Talong for the vegetables, and halo-halo for the desserts. The four of us laughed over my dad’s knock-knock jokes, all related to the Philippines, and the funny stories my mom shared about her and Tita Maricel. My dad and Aprilette fed pan de sal to the ducks while I ran away crying. I’d never interacted with animals, so approaching one terrified me. Aprilette and my dad teased me while my mom told me Filipino folktales, which, apparently, always calmed me down since I was so immersed in the stories.
I turn to my door, my parents’ bedroom on the opposite side. It pains me that I’ve lost some of their trust, having my phone and camera—I returned it to their safe before my mom came home—confiscated, understandably so. But apparently, I still have enough of their trust that they let me keep my laptop, probably because they expect me to focus only on my homework. Looking back at my photograph, I see my family again, not Jase’s.
After an hour of re-editing, I print it out without drafting my presentation.
****
How Mr. Daniels stands in front of me, scrutinizing the test at the top of his stack, is almost as nerve-racking as waiting for my turn to present.
Please don’t let that be mine.
He hands me the test he’s been scrutinizing, a red 35/52 circled at the top. My face flushes. I don’t need a calculator to figure out this score doesn’t calculate anything higher than a C-. He glances at me, and in that brief instant, I just know he wondered if me and Aprilette are actually sisters. Staring at my score, I feel a knife cut into my stomach. My parents are already mad, now they’re going to be pissed.
Mr. Daniels twists to Jase as he scrutinizes, with furrowed eyebrows, the test at the top of the stack. Jase gives him an are-you-giving-me-my-test-or-not? look, breaking a chuckle out of me. Mr. Daniels must feel Jase’s stare because he hands Jase his test. He saunters through the classroom, his shoes, of course, squeaking with every step.
Jase’s face brightens as he studies his test. He turns the sheet to me, a 10/52 circled in red pen.
“Five points more than usual,” I say. “Nice.”
The brightness on his face dims. “What’s wrong?” I show him my test in one quick turn to avert my eyes from my score. “Ah, man, I’m sorry.”
“My parents are going to kill me.”
“They’ll get over it.”
“You don’t know my parents. They’ve already confiscated my camera and set limits on using my phone. I don’t know what else they’re going to take from me.”
“You don’t have to show them your test.”
“Yes, I do. I’m already keeping so many secrets from them. I can’t keep piling on more.”
He reaches over and cups his hand around my arm, filling me with warmth that’s become quite comforting. I wish Jase didn’t have to be one of my secrets. But if my parents knew about him, there’s no doubt they’d say he’s not for me.
“They’ll move on, really.”
“I hope so.” Luckily, I have a piece of Polvorón in my pocket, a comfort snack I very much need. I pop the little shortbread cookie into my mouth and let the crispy, flaky crumbs fill my mouth.
Mr. Squeaky-Shoes dismisses us, and everyone spills out of the classroom. On our way out, I hand Jase what was originally my love photograph.
“It’s yours,” I say.
Jase just looks at it. This morning, he arrived late, so I couldn’t give it to him until now.
“Don’t you need it?” Jase asks.
“Not anymore, I can’t. If I’m going to show what love looks like, it has to be my family.”
Seeing the photo of Jase’s family instead of mine is like looking at an Instagram post. It’s something I can admire, but ultimately, the photo belongs to someone else.
He nods and takes the photo from my hand, gazing at it with amazement in his eyes.
“I wanted to capture the happiness and warmth I felt when you were talking to Jordan and your mom,” I explain, breaking down my editing process and elaborating on why I adjusted the vibrance and saturation of the grass and leaves.
