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A soft smile slowly spreads across his face. “It looks awesome, as always. We look so happy.”

“Yeah, you guys do.”

He looks up, and his smile grows stronger, giving me that same warmth his hold around my arm always gives.

“Thanks,” Jase says.

“Of course.”

We stroll out of the building, and as that unfamiliar feeling returns, I wonder how I’m supposed to be around Jase if it only grows stronger.

Chapter Thirty

Like the good daughter my parents expect, I tell them about my grade.

My mom asks what’s gotten into me this summer, and though it’s my second time hearing this, the words still sting. That sting sharpens when she adds, “Your Atè stayed focused the summer before her senior year. Anak, you’re worrying me.” Luckily, instead of confiscating anything else, my dad adds an hour more to my homework checkups and practice quizzes.

As punishment, I can’t drive anywhere myself. Instead, my mom will be driving me. It’s not ideal, but I can come up with excuses for going to Blossoms. I can always have my mom drop me off at Nora’s house so Nora can take me anywhere.

During my extended session, I focus just as hard as Aprilette would. If I can answer every question correctly, my parents will be in a better mood. It’ll be easier to ask them to be in my photo.

I ace the last practice quiz, making my dad grin proudly and my mom clap in her signature way, fingertips against palm. Perfect, good signs. Though I’m about to ask a simple question, for some reason, my stomach constricts like a rope tying into a knot.

“Mom, Dad,” I begin, “can we have a picnic this week?”

My mom raises an eyebrow, somewhat intrigued. My dad, however, knits his brows together.

“Bakit?” he asks.

I didn’t rehearse for this. Maybe I should’ve come more prepared to answer why we should have a picnic. A shot of Curtain Lake, its stretch of blue dotted by a flock of ducks, flashes in my head.

“Remember our picnic at Curtain Lake when I was ten and Atè was seventeen?”

I recount the story from my heart, because I really do miss those days. My mom smiles the kind that wobbles before tears of joy break free. For the most part, my dad’s face remains firm, though, a few times, he cracks a grin.

“Wonderful times.” My mom rests a hand against her chest and smiles at a photo of us framed on the wall. I know that gaze. It’s the kind I feel myself making when I want to relive a moment captured in a photograph, dance in that magic all over again.

“We’re always working, so we should just enjoy ourselves.”

Saying this now, especially as I take in my mom’s nostalgic smile, I realize it’s true.

“Hindi ko alam, anak,” my dad says. He may say I don’t know in Tagalog, but really, he means no. My mouth wilts to a frown.

“Aldrine, we haven’t had a family picnic since Aprilette attended Berkeley.” Her voice crackles saying my Atè’s name and the words that follow.

“But Reshelle, do we really need one?”

“Ohoh, I miss them! We need to spend time as a family again.” Her eyes drift back to the wall, narrowing them to Aprilette in our family photograph. “Even if we’re not all together.”

My heart aches for my mom. If there were a slight chance Aprilette would say yes, I’d beg her to spend just one weekend with us, bring our pamilya together again.

My dad thinks this over, then says, “Siggi, maybe we can go on Saturday.”

“No!” I say a little too quickly. My parents swivel to me, and I quickly add, “I was planning to study all Saturday. Maybe we can go tomorrow, during our lunch breaks.”

“That’s a little tight, anak,” my mom says.

“That’s only an hour,” my dad emphasizes.