Black Betty

Whoa, black betty (bam-ba-lam)!
She's always ready (bam-ba-lam)!
She's so rock steady (bam-ba-lam)!
- Spiderbait, "Black Betty"

"We told you, remember, Camille? That you were going to play bass for us tonight? Spiderbait?"

"Fuck! I don't remember! I can't! I haven't learned it!"

"You'll just have to play your best because everyone's expecting you to play."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I love Spiderbait. I won't do them justice."

"People don't know the song we're going to play. Just act really thrashy. Punk style, yeah?"

"Fuck. Death by Punk."

"Fuck this, fuck that. Why do keep saying that word?"

"Oh, 'fuck' is more than a word. It's my way of life." And suddenly I feel, fuck them, I will not only play "Black Betty" but the whole fucking Tonight Alright album and dedicate "Fucken Awesome" to myself. Is that done? Can rock stars dedicate songs to themselves? Henceforth, let it be said that I am the only rock star to dedicate songs to herself.

A miracle happens on stage. I've learned "Black Betty" and I'm thrashing and singing along to "bam-ba-lam." And my band mates were right -- no one notices if I've made up some parts of the song because I've forgotten the real notes. I feel like I am Black Betty. It's so glorious.

Death by Trance

What can I say? These massives are really massive.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, even though I mean "no" because I feel guilty about him wasting his $40 on a silly girl who can't appreciate a rave party. I can't help but make a biting remark, "I just hope your dancing skills have improved."

Massive chandeliers that give off different colors of light. Massive ferris wheels that spin you around to heighten your high. Massive bars. Massive stages. Massive stars.

Yes, because it's an outdoor rave party in the middle of San Francisco. Even though it's outdoors, it seems indoors because how else will those chandeliers hang. Unless... Am I drugged?

"Cams, keep up! I nearly lost you!"

"Fuck, I can't go on anymore. Death by Trance!"

"Trance? What are you talking about? This is my room."

I look around and see that he's right. We're in his room in his house in South Bay. I'm wearing my St Scho uniform. He's wearing his La Salle uniform. We're 10 years wiser but 10 years younger. We are before and after at the same time.

So I know because I remember. We've been fighting on the streets of South Bay. Me sitting on the sidewalk. Him giving a deranged soliloquy, pacing back and forth. Me thinking, "How can I help you if you push me away? Fuck you, say it! Tell me what I've already guessed! How dare you think that I don't know! How dare you treat me like a child!" And I remember him sitting beside me to cry which makes me cry too and then me thinking, "Maybe all we needed was a good cry."

"Just love me?"

"I do. You don't have to ask."

Did it really happen that way? Yes, yes, it did.

"Call Jill's house. They're waiting for me to come back. They might be worried." I say the exact words I said 10 years ago.

He steps out, exactly like he did ten years ago.

And I see everything with the voyeurism and hindsight of 10 years of wisdom and memory. I see him dial Jill's number and wait for her to pick up. I see Jill pick up the phone. I see him say, "She's with me. She's okay." I see Jill turn to the others - Nins, Chinx, TL - and say, "She's with him. She's okay." I see them give a collective sigh of relief. I see them lock the door that they were keeping unlocked for me. I see them turn off the lights.

And when he steps back into the room, exactly like he did ten years ago, I am asleep.

And it's with innocence he puts his arm around me and watches me sleep.

And it's with wisdom that I hurt because I know that this gesture of possession will be repeated, with different boys in different rooms, but no other gesture of love and possession will ever be as sweet and innocent as this first time.

Just Love Me

Maybe it helps you be a better friend if you've never been on Friendster.

Isn't this funny, my bad luck in elevators has transliterated to planes. I managed to ride the wrong one because here I am in China with no luggage, no passport, no currency. This is my ultimate Bridget Jones Moment.

But the beaches are beautiful. Maybe I can just pretend this is Boracay. Oh, forget it. There are too many Chinese. I wonder how you say, "Where can I get a Brazilian wax?" in Chinese.

I don't even have a bathing suit.

This man. This man transforms into anyone I want him to be. It's almost scary. We walk to his room which is just a shack ten other people share with him but they all complicitly step out to go to the beach when we enter. We look at each other, this anyman man, and giggle because really, we have nothing lascivious in mind. No, I lie. Lascivious is all I have in mind.

"Who do I transform you to now?"

We kiss.

"Who are you?"

I can't see. I try to figure out who he is, from the taste of his saliva, from the pressure of his lips, from the way he bites.

"Tell me who you are."

"Don't you recognize me? From Friendster?" He pulls me closer.

"I quit Friendster."

"Yes but you didn't quit me, did you?" He tugs at my hair. "You didn't, did you?"

"If I don't know who you are how will I know if I should love you or hate you?"

"Just love me," he says just as I take him inside me.

Suddenly I know who he is.

Messages

Oh, please, not the St Scho uniform again.

I sit at the back of the classroom and start messaging people in furious, desperate manner as being in classroom wearing a uniform makes me feel helpless and cut off from the world. I look at my phone. Oh my god. So many messages. I was so sure I answered these messages already! Remember sinking feeling of being in Ambergris and opening email to see 50 unread in inbox, all waiting for reply.

"Sunsh, you'll never believe it but am stuck, once again, in St Pain. Please rescue. Don't want to miss your birthday."

"Pao, I might be stuck here for some time. Please take care of Forest."

"Mama, test results on top of dining table. Please take to Dr. Lumibao. Particularly interested in reason am bruising."

"Kit, when is fucking deadline again?"

"Ricci, count me in. Text directions."

"Naj, I need a lawyer."

I know the rest of the students look at me suspiciously as cell phones are like, banned, and people who message in the middle of the school day are serious vigilantes, likened to the NPA. They're so young and gullible. I feel so smug. How can they not see that I am not one of them?

I keep sending messages until my phone's screen becomes blurry, until the keypad is almost destroyed but my unread messages keep growing exponentially, until my messages become more and more desperate.

New message. More? It's from Moe. "Waiting for you. Won't leave without you but hurry. Rest of them went ahead."

I'm so confused I can't even begin to reply.

"Do you think you can rescue --- " Clear message.

"I don't think I can --- " Clear message.

"I'm stuck in ---" Clear message.

"Sorry but --- " Clear message.

"Sorry for the delay. All very weird. Wait. Will be there shortly." Send.

Acting

Driving car. Drunk with Naj. Forgotten how to drive non-automatic car. Feet do not want to cooperate, stick feels heavy. Goodness I must concentrate because we have to rush back to St Scho to star in a school play. It dawns on me, we don't have to attend this thing, we're not students anymore, but the thought vanishes and I feel compelled to oblige.

Backstage. Wearing Queen costume. I don't even know my lines. Director says just go and pretend you know what you're doing. What? What does that mean? What does she mean by pretend?

Onstage. Sitting pretty like real Queen Camille I. Everyone else knows their lines. Never mind. Walk a little, fan myself a little. I guess I should just go ahead with normal stage business. Even Mama came to watch me, how funny!

Curtain call. What's going on? Why is the audience coming on stage? Why are they all bowing to me?

I turn Naj, "Are they bowing to me because I'm Queen Camille I?"

"No, fool. They're bowing because they've been performing for you! They were acting like an audience. Gets?"

"That's hilarious! What an original idea! I guess I should clap then! Clap with me Naj! Not like that, fool! With one hand steady and the other's fingers tapping the steady palm --- like a lady, like we were taught in school!"

Superior Hostess

Your emergency's about to end.
Earlier this evening on your bed.
- Possum Dixon, "Emergency"

Chapter 1

Slumber party! The whole house to myself and my guests! It's a dream come true!

At first I was concerned about the condition of the house because it's been empty for so long but everything is in tip-top shape. Excellent.

I get to keep my old blue room, of course. The guests get to pick from the other rooms.

Sunshine takes Cheng's room. Good choice, Sunsh. Big airy room with two views - one of the courtyard.

My UP friends (Kit, Kath, Abi, LaVerne) take Sockie's room since there are more of them and that room has more beds.

Where to put my barkada? Oh, the library! That has its own bathroom too! Everything is fine. Lalalala.

Moe gets the upstairs master's bedroom. The master's bedroom! That room has two views as well! Wait a minute! Oh, okay, whatever. At least he gets his own bathroom and doesn't have to share with the girls.

More people are coming! Wee! Will just open up more rooms.

Feeling very much like superior type of hostess. People will say, "That Camille throws the best slumber parties!" Heehee.

"Hey! Come in! So glad you could come!" Beso, beso. Move on to next guest. "Hey... Tina?"

Blink, blink. Now how did she happen to be invited?

"Umm. Moe invited me. Can I stay?"

It only takes me a second of hesitation to earn a lifetime of guilt for being inhospitable and I fall over myself trying to make up for it.

"Yes. Yes! Come in! Certainly!" Weirdly enough I don't want to hurt her feelings. Her feelings!

It doesn't seem enough of an act of contrition so I say, "Look, you get the best room in the house!"

And before I can stop myself I've led her to the downstairs master bedroom. Auntie Nieves' room! The one with the best two views. The one with high ceilings! The one beside the bush of rosal whose flowers make the room so fragrant. The one with the walk in closet! I look at Tina's clothes and think she doesn't deserve a walk in closet and for a second want to tell her, "Don't go in there! Don't go in that room! It's my favorite!" But I am a superior hostess and god damn me if I am rude to my guests.

I settle her in and sit outside her room. I'm so envious. Am I selfish? Begrudging her a short stay in my favorite room? It's just that she's so lukcy. She's so lucky. This master bedroom comes with a master suite. It has a little common room and an extra room. It comes with so many perks! Sigh. Lucky, lucky Tina.

And hello?!? Who is this woman sitting in the extra room in the master suite? I swear next time must hire bouncer.

I inhale and do recite my mantra in my head. "Superior hostess. Superior hostess. Superior hostess."

Then Tina pops out. "Camille? I forgot to tell you. I brought my Mother. Ma, meet Camille, our gracious, superior hostess."

Chapter 2

Stupid fuck! Gracious, superior hostess indeed!

Must find Moe. What's this? Mothers? What kind of slumber party is this? Will never forgive him. Never can ever! Why am I mad at him? Why? Because I cannot get mad at Tina, that's why! Because I cannot get mad at the old lady who is her mother, that's why! This one is on him! Damn him!

Where are my cigarettes?

I confront him in the upstairs master bedroom and it hits me that him and Tina have one master bedroom each and that just makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

"I cannot believe it! You brought her and she brought her mother! You didn't even bother to ask me! This is my house!"

"Her mother? Has she come? Where is she?"

"Oh, don't worry. I settled her in. She and Tina are staying in the master suite with Tina in the master bedroom! How did it happen that you and Tina get the best rooms!"

"Fine. Take this room! Tina and I will share. She'll share with me, generous, sweet, perfect girl that she is."

Ouch. "GO AHEAD TRAITOR!" Ang sakit talaga!

"Who are you calling a traitor? You're an infidel! Evil Cam-evil! What made you think I could ever take you seriously? You're a bad person and a terrible hostess!"

"Ohhhh, fuck it! Fuck you! Fuck the world! I am a superior hostess and will continue being a superior hostess and attend to my other guests but we're not done here!"

"Oh, yes we are! We were done long ago!"

Chapter 3

Dinner. Tired. Now how can it be that I can't find a seat in my own house?

Ah, there, Moe. Never mind if we parted in a sour, bruttish fashion. Must make up now and share a table.

But as I'm making my way, he spots me and as if to not make me come any closer, he stands up hastily and prepares to give a speech and for a while I smile thinking he will repeat his welcome-to-MCI speech just to make me laugh but he announces his engagement to Tina and I see that they've been sitting beside each other all this time. Engagement! That's why she brought her mother! Fuck me, why didn't I see this coming?

Everyone stands up to clap and cheer and I'm standing there holding my plate, holding my breath, holding my tears.

"Superior hostess. Superior hostess. Superior hostess." No, it's no good. It's not working.

I start to cry. Never mind. No one is looking at me anyway.

Hay, Moe. You do what you have to do.

Good bye guests. Good bye my room with my postcards on the walls and my dolls on shelves. Good bye house. I thought this time I could keep you.

No one notices me put my plate down on the nearest table, leave the room, walk out of my own house and disappear.

No Point

We're being bombed. St Scho is a relocation center and I'm put together with thousands of strangers. Bombs drop left and right. The ground rocks. The walls crack. The ceiling comes crashing. We scamper right and left.

I think of Forest. He's so dumb and helpless. I shouldn't have left him in our house to die with Paolo. Forest wouldn't understand it when a bomb comes for him. He's so silly. We could've made it, the two of us, running and hiding. I wouldn't even take anything in my bag except his food.

I leave the crowd. I need to be alone. There's no point to life.

I take a moment to remember him, my baby Forest. The way he'd jump at me when I'd walk in the door. The way he'd wake me up or cuddle beside me at night. The way we'd play hide and seek, me pretending not to see him, "Where's Forest? Forest, why did you leave Mommy?" and his tail going "tak, tak, tak" and he's so stupid to think I don't see him and then I'll pretend to cry and then he'll emerge from his hiding place to jump on me and lick my face, all this time squirming from delight thinking he played a really good joke on me.

It's the most fortunate blessing to be loved by a dog.

Oh, Forest. I love you. I hope it didn't hurt for you.

The building in front of me has caught fire. I walk towards it slowly until I disappear into the fire.

Crossing the Ocean

We're to cross the ocean on nothing but tiny boats that fit one person. There are four of us adults, a baby and four boats.

John is the only boy and first in command and he's the crummiest, dumbest boss I've ever worked with.

His first blunder: Forcing us to leave before we were ready. We were only wearing our bathing suits that didn't help us against the cold. The baby was assigned to me. I almost dropped it in the water thrice!

His second blunder: Making us set sail when it was high tide. When we were no further than 20 feet into the ocean the tide brought us in.

His third blunder: Ordering us to rest by the shore once the tide brought us in. I saw huge waves coming in and yelled, "Run!" and we all scampered to higher ground.

John was once again giving orders once we had settled down but I shut him up and took over. I ordered the girls to get us proper ocean wear (giving specific instructions as to the kind of bathing suit I want to wear under the outer suit.) Then I find the baby some milk.

The water is soon so calm. Not a ripple in sight. I decide we need to set sail. I assign the baby to someone else and tell John and I don't to hear a squeak out of him. We move along the water. (I love my outfit!) We keep sailing and I'm so happy but at the same time so frightened because there's nothing in sight but the ocean.

Pixie and Pony

"Best friends?" Pony says. "We are sisters," Pony says.
- From "Pixie and Pony" by Francesca Lia Block

We're Sunshine and Camille. We're also Pixie and Pony. We're not exactly sure if St. Pain is the bubble gum / film noir, vintage / ultramodern, starstruck Los Angeles of Block's work but today we're on a mission.

Before we even get to talk about strategy the students come down to the quadrangle and I'm literally engulfed by a sea of blue and white uniforms smelling as if they just came from PE.

Then Tina comes up to me to tell me that we have to leave as the whole institution is having Mass and that strangers are not allowed.

They caught us, I realize, so I say, "Okay, we're leaving."

Sunshine and I look at each other in disbelief and on our way out we dissect just what happened.

"Who would think Tina could do this to us?"

"She was always nice to us!"

"I was expecting Juliet to pounce upon us, honestly, but not Tina!"

"God, what's wrong with these secretaries?"

"Tina has lost it."

"Totally."

"Juliet's influence."

"Do you notice how secretaries have strange names?"

"I think people with certain names are destined to become secretaries. Don't you think?"

"I can imagine a Juliet and a Tina doing secretarial things."

"Juliet, Tina. Joo-leeh-et. Tee-nah. Hahaha."

"There's another Juliet in UP. Hahaha."

"Right, really sungit too. Hahaha!"

"I know an Annabel and a Maricel. Hahaha!"

"I know a Maritess. Hahaha!"

"And what about us? Camille and Sunshine? Pixie and Pony?"

"We're not secretaries! We're sisters!"

The Orchestra Pit and The Game of Tetris

Sunshine and I are judges and the only audience of this lavish St. Pain student production. What can I say, it's far better than any school production I've ever seen. The ambience of St. Cecilia's hall lends the whole thing some professionalism.

This tiny girl, Joanna (and I don't even remember having her as a student), makes a big entrance but misses the X spot marked for her on the stage and bounces off the big props and disappears down the orchestra pit --- the same pit I almost fell into years ago. We're all stunned into silence. It's so quiet that we hear her bones crack as she lands.

Could the pit really be that deep?

"Oh my God!" I scream and while I run to the pit I call out to the class president, "Chukis, run to the clinic! Run! Tell them we need an ambulance!"

"Sunshine? Sunshine?" Sunshine has disappeared.

By the time I get to the orchestra pit, the whole class is there and I see someone stroking Joanna's leg, trying to get her to move.

"Don't touch her! Don't move her!" There's so much crying and wailing and I myself want to start crying but I feel that as a teacher I must keep my composure.

"Everbody move away from her. Everyone except you, Balot. You can stay beside her and keep talking to her."

The pit clears and I see Joanna's broken face for the first time.

Bloody. Cracked into several pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle. Limbs twisted like gnarled branches.

I realize how tiny she really is. How tiny and broken. Like Barbie having a bad hair day.

I am unable to speak nor cry.

(At the next issue of The Blue Flame, an editorial will comment on my lack of tears and they will interpret my shock as unfeelingness.)

***

I want to say I'm sorry.

If you think that I could be forgiven. Wish you would.

I look at him from afar and practice my apology in my head but before I gather enough of myself he calls out to me, "Come, Camille and watch me play Tetris."

I come up to him from behind and watch. Nothing else is said.

I can't remember the last thing that you said to me as you were leaving. Now the days go by so fast.

To be able to follow the game more closely, I bend and rest my chin on his right shoulder. And he doesn't flinch so perhaps I have been forgiven.

I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they pass.

And this is the only tender moment we share. Me and this nameless, faceless man who has yet to tell me I have been forgiven.

Returned

I've been returned.

"What am I going to do with you now?" Mama asks.

"Give me my inheritance, Ma, and I promise to never cause trouble again."

To my surprise, Mama gives me a house and lots of money. I may be disgraced but at least I'm still rich.

It gets lonely and on my first night alone I call Paolo.

"This is ridiculous. Take me back or else!"

Silence. I wonder what's taking him so long to say, "Okay."

All the World Drops Dead

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"Camille!"

I realize I've been mumbling Sylvia Plath. I take a deep breath and look around. It's all dark and fuzzy at first but soon I begin to see.

Around me are evidence of a plane crash. Pieces of metal still steaming with heat. Luggage. Severed limbs. Blood.

It's beautiful beyond the grounds that are dirtied by signs of the crash. Blue ocean. White sand. Coconut trees. Fruit waiting to be picked.

The voice again, "Camille!"

I ignore it and start to search for survivors but find nothing but limbs that don't have bodies, bodies that don't have faces and soon I scream from frustration.

I scream until the voice comes again. Urgently this time, "Camille!"

I try to locate its source as all world drops dead.

Science Experiment and Super Mario Top Score

Huddled on the floor of the science room. Late afternoon. Wearing St Scho uniforms in different stages of untidiness.

Normie: It's genius. We'll have to go through with it.

Nyanne: I can't believe nobody's ever thought of this before. We'll be famous.

Camille: Who gets to be IT?

Normie: We draw straws. [Holds up 3 straws. The three of them draw then compare.]

Camille: Shit. [Slumps on the floor and theatrically covers her eyes with her arm.]

Normie: Take this. [Gives Camille a bottle.] Rub a substantial amount of lotion on your nipples and wait for them to disappear.

Camille: [Sadly.] What if they do?

Nyanne: Then it means our formula for disappearing nipples works! Imagine that, you can rub away your nipples.

Camille: But I like mine! I don't want to be the girl without nipples! That's worse than having three!

Normie: I promise you, it's worth it.

Camille: What if I'm allergic to this thing? How cruel of you to not even check.

Nyanne: We'll check now. [Takes some of the lotion and rubs it on Camille's forearm. The three of them just stare for a minute or so.]

Normie: Nothing.

Nyanne: Nothing, I told you.

Camille gets up and goes to the bathroom and locks herself in a stall. She then dunks the lotion in the toilet bowl and waits. Soon she returns to join Normie and Nyanne.

Normie and Nyanne: Well?

Camille: That stuff doesn't work. [Normie and Nyanne peer at her breasts from her neckline.]

Normie: I was so sure!

Nyanne looks at Camille suspiciously but Camille just smiles, happy that she still has her nipples.

***

It's our bedroom minus the walls and the ceiling. Paolo is fast asleep but I nudge him and say, "Water, please." He doesn't wake up, not tonight.

I stand and go the the water pump and wait my turn because there's someone else getting water. Paolo wakes up and sees me, "Camille! Come back! Come back!"

I'm so frightened by his voice and the look on his face that I run and jump back into bed.

He says, "Have you got no sense at all? Look!"

I look and see that the person getting water has turned around and has revealed himself to be a monster.

The monster changes shape several times. First he's a horse that bares all its teeth. Then a transparent labrador who shows his fangs. Then a monster in green with a ghoulish face.

The monster starts moving closer to us. I try to say my prayers but I have forgotten them. I make the sign of the cross but the monster mimics me and makes the sign of the cross too. I knew it, I knew religion would never come through for me.

I peer at the monster. Why, he's just a little boy. I lunge forward and wring his neck. He laughs and sticks his tongue out. His eyes roll around and around.

"What do you want?" I ask.

He cackles like a witch and his eyes pop out and I from the empty sockets I can see his brains.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT? TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!"

Finally he says, "I would like to beat your Super Mario top score you evil, evil, evil Cam-evil bitch!"

The God of Calvin and The Presidential Limousine

She thinks she is providence... She thinks she is the God of Calvin, she sees the beginning and the end.

What people don't realize about being the Messiah is that mere presence is enough to save.

What's even more ironic is that nobody needs saving. We've all been saved already.

So I'd rather be providence, the God of Calvin or the Messiah than someone always pathetically crying out to be saved.

***

Because the Philippines is in a State of Emergency, I'm wary to attend class all the way to UP. But Gloria Macapagal Arroyo herself gives me a ride.

I'm sitting beside her on the back of the Presidential Limousine and she talks about her family. I ask her, "Do they always support your crazy schemes?"

Pretty soon I start feeling guilty. I know why she's giving me a ride. She knows I want to be president. She knows I wish her dead.

I draw a breath and concentrate on small talk.

"Doesn't it feel like summer?"

She doesn't only drop me off at UP. She walks me to class. It's such a hassle, walking beside this small tiresome woman, who won't leave me alone. We meet Butch Dalisay on the way to my class room and I feel obliged to make the introductions.

Soon afterwards, Gloria leaves me alone and as much as I hate her, I wish I arranged for her to lend me her car so I could have a safe ride home.

Lost in a Beautiful Hotel

It's a beautiful hotel. The place isn't lighted by artificial lights but by real sunlight and I around to try to find its source.

Teejay is carrying a drink that looks like Scotch and he's trying to find somewhere we can sit so he can enjoy his drink but I'm getting tired of walking. I ask, "Why don't we just sit in your room as I still can't find mine?"

He gives me a little smile like I had just propositioned him.

"Oh please, Teejay! It's not what you think!" but I myself am flustered and he's still wearing that smile.

I've been waiting for this moment to be able to talk to him but for some reason I can't bring myself to say what I really want to say. So we keep walking.

We reach the outside of the hotel where the light is even more dazzling. The swimming pool is as big as an ocean. There are gigantic slides as tall as skyscrapers. And an ferris wheel in the middle of the water. The whole place smells like cotton candy and barbeque - like a school fair.

I stumble and try to keep up with Teejay who's walking too fast. "Teej, wait! Teej, please, I can't walk fast enough. Antonio!" But he keeps walking and soon he's out of sight.

I hate myself for letting my opportunity pass.

It's quiet inside the elevator and I sadly try to decipher what room number is written on my key. Nothing is going according to plan. What am I even doing in this hotel? Where am I? "Tomorrow," I resolve, "Tomorrow I will find him and tell him."

The elevator shakes and parts of it fall apart and I dodge the screws, bolts and nails that rain on me. The doors open to a floor of a different hotel. "Oh, no," I think, "not again."

I will never find him.

Carinderia, Ball Room, Gym

Mama left me to myself to wander through divisoria. I protest, "Mama, hold my hand! I feel like getting lost!" But she has disappeared.

So I look around. I consider buying a beautiful pair of shoes but more and more things for sale keep catching my eye and I walk on and on. In the middle of the chaotic market, like an oasis, is a Marc Jacobs outlet. I gasp. I go to it and it even smells like America! I'm so excited that I riffle through the clothes but I'm so dissapointed that there's not a single clothing article that I like.

Finding my way out, I see Daddy and Mama eating at a small carinderia. I join them and look so desolate because the place is so tiny and hot and fly infested. Mama asks me, "Why don't you eat something? Too good for this now, Miss Priss? What happened to my daughter who would eat anything anywhere?"

"Oh, I dunno Ma. She died. This isn't her anymore."

***

I'm at a party in one of Discovery Hotel's ball rooms. I'm wearing a pink silk puffy gown that makes me look like Cinderella. In the other ball room next to the one I'm at is another party that's just breaking up. I see Jackie Arellano and we compare notes about our respective parties. Most of what she's saying gets drowned out by the noise around us. But something she says hits me hard and clear, "Teejay was asking about you."

I pause and remind myself to breathe. Breathe, Camille, breathe. Act normal. Say something. "Really now."

"He says you went to each other's graduation balls. And wrote each other letters."

"Hmm. Yes. Ten years ago, imagine." Breathe, Camille, breathe.

"He's still in the ball room, you know. Down the stairs, through the narrow corridor, right turn, left turn, straight ahead. So are you going?"

"I don't know. Maybe later. Maybe not."

"Alright. Nice talking to you again." Beso, beso.

As soon as Jackie's out of sight, I turn and run. Down the stairs, through the narrow corridor, right turn, left turn, straight ahead. My pink gown gets torn, my hair comes undone. I try to compose my speech to him. "Teejay, I'm so sorry. I didn't know! I only found out last Saturday through Arcy of all people! For ten years nobody told me. You should've told me! If I had only known then things would've been different! Because it's only now that I realize... I realize... things. So until you tell me it's okay, until you tell me you've forgiven me, until you explain to me what you were thinking, until you lift this curse, I will keep hurting those I love and I will never, never find peace."

And I enter the room and I realize that I've been tricked. This isn't a ball room. It's a mausoleum and I'm trapped and it's getting harder and harder to take in some air and I realize that it's only a matter of time before I die.

***

This is the sossy-iest gym I've ever been to. It looks like a palace. Moe asks me, "Why are you wearing those ridiculous green jogging pants?" I laugh.

"Surely, they're not that ridiculous? Oh, come on, after all it's just a PE uniform! You're way too harsh!"

As soon as I say that I turn cold and realize I'm back in college. True enough, I see April, Estee, and Kathleen all wearing ridiculous looking green jogging pants and ugly PE shirts.

They don't know what's happened. That we're back in time. That I've seen the future, their future, everyone's future!

"Come, Cami, have Moe take a picture of us!"

The four of us smile, like before, like nothing has happened, like we will forever be the four cutest, perkiest girls ever, who hate badminton but will play gracefully anyway, who are heartbroken but will smile, who can have any boy we want except the ones we truly love.

After the pictorial, we pair up to play badminton, and I end up with April exactly like I should. But she plays differently this time or is it me playing differently? I can't seem to focus on the shuttle cock. It isn't a shuttle cock! It's a bullet! And before I find the sense to dodge it, it hits me in the heart and I fall on the floor.

The palace is just a regular gym now. Everyone else is gone and I'm still wearing my ridiculous green jogging pants and although I don't feel any pain, I feel very, very tired.

Moe comes to me, craddles me and doesn't let me go until I die.

Buri, Flash Flood, The Rose People

If there's one person who's more paranoid than I am it has to be Nyanne.

She won't give up giving me the third degree.

"Who came here with my past?"

"Sorry, Annie, but I really don't understand the question!"

"Who came to tell you about me?"

"Well. If you must know... Nobody! Nobody comes here asking for you, okay?"

Talk about stress!

I ask her if I can use the bathroom. I take a long shower. What is the word to describe what I feel? What is that word?

It comes to me. "Buri." The word is "buri." And this makes me smile and shout, "Diega!"

***

There's a flash flood on my way home. The water on the street goes up to my waist. I look around trying to figure out where I am. I dodge abandoned cars that are floating around. I worry about people who must be worrying about me. I wish I had told someone where I was going. What if I get lost? No one will even know I'm missing.

I'm getting tired, dodging cars and walking through the flooded streets. I grab on to what remains of a fence and rest. I look up at the sky and am startled to see how clear and blue it is.

***

The Rose People live in a land that can be reached by drowning yourself in the ocean at the end of the world.

Once you reach their land, your senses will be assaulted by colors that are yet unnamed and smells that don't dissipate.

The Rose People are a peaceful and shy people. They're shinning brown and limbre and love to sing. They get their name from their unusual mating habits:

Everyday, they converge by a stream with water that tastes like roses. This water flows from one end to another and the smell of roses gives the air a heavy intensity. The women stand on one end of the stream, the men on the other and they wait for the water to flow in two directions, from opposite ends to meet in a whirpool in the middle of the stream.

They squeal as soon as this happens and one at a time, scrupulously taking turns, a man from one end and a woman from another end jump into the water and are carried to the center where they disappear into the whirlpool.

Surrounded by nothing but water, holding their breaths, they make love until the woman is impregnated. There are cheers each time a couple emerges.

Sadly, one time a copulation was interrupted. The couple emerged disgruntled and the woman had a baby's hand, no bigger than a thimble, sticking out of her belly.

Magic in the Air

"Which city would you like to visit, Camille?"

"New York."

"Why?"

"I didn't know I had to explain."

"Okay. Fine. You leave as soon as you finish packing."

I know I only lived in New York for a year and that was way back to even count. But my first memories are New York memories. Daddy carrying me on the subway, his one arm carrying me, his other hand holding on to the rail to steady us. Going with Mama to the grocery in front of our apartment. The Italian ice cream shop below our apartment. The smell of tire tracks on the streets. Learning how to chew bubble gum without swallowing it. Learning to tie my shoelaces. Eating only green M&M's. Getting my finger stuck inside a semi-open can. And finally leaving New York to go on a road trip to Minnesota. New York Memories. I remember, I remember.

It's time to go back. My first stop is the Metropolitan Museum of Art and then the bookstores and then see if that ice cream shop is still there and maybe the owner will still think I'm cute enough to give me a free scoop like he used to.

They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway. They say there's always magic in the air.

I rush to my room and open an empty suitcase. I look inside the closets but nothing's fit to pack. I can't find the clothes I want to bring. I don't even recognize the clothes. The clothes fall to the floor. I pick then up and try to take a good look at them but they slip out of my hands. I glance at the empty suitcase and start to panic. Oh no. Oh no. I know I have that beautiful winter coat I bought in Hong Kong on a whim. Where is that? Where are my jeans? I can't even find my jeans! Shit, please, please, let me pack, please let me go back to New York.

Please. Please. Please.

Film Noir

"Yuck, Rom, what are you doing here? Shoo fly!"

No, of course, that's not what I say out loud and for a second I wish I could forget my breeding and say something really nasty and act ill-mannered but I say, "Oh, hi," with my voice leveled but icy with suppressed disdain.

Just his presence oppresses me! I have to endure sitting beside him until this racket outside this building dies down.

I see some chairs stacked in the corner of the room and start moving them towards the window so I can escape but each chair I drag to the window drags itself back to the corner and soon I'm exhausted.

When I get home Paolo asks me, "Where'd you come from?"

"Nowhere."

"Where?"

"Nowhere."

"WHERE?"

"NOWHERE!"

He takes out pictures from a manila envelope anonymously mailed to him.

We're in a pre-internet spy movie. Everything is in shadows. Film noir.

He throws the pictures on the floor and I pick them up and see me and Rom in bed. Even the pictures are black and white. It's obviously not me. How can anyone make that mistake?

I throw them back at him.

"You're disgusting! This was set up! It's an insult that you could believe I would sleep with him! I never even touched that asshole! This is a hoax!"

The very idea of me touching that jerk! I'm so angry that I begin to upturn all the furniture in the room. I start with the dinning table then the sofa then all the chairs and coffee tables. I throw the electric fan out the window and pieces of shattered glass fall all over the place.

The last thing I see before I die is the chandelier coming towards me.

The Weirdest Conversation

I'm stuck in a haunted hotel. I have to find my way out but I can't since the stairs lead you back to the floor you came from and elevators open to floors that have no floors. Everything is a nostalgic shade of sepia and I could almost love that hotel except that it's haunted, it's scary, something evil is after me and I cry. What did I do to deserve this? What did I do? Why am I being punished? Leave me alone! Stop hurting me!

Someone meets me in the hallway and gives me my "mission" that I must accomplish before I am allowed out of the hotel. This mission will lead me to my destiny. I walk and find myself in a library with shelves a hundred feet high filled with all the books I could ever want, ever.

An elf meets me and says, "I am your trainer. You're here to find your destiny. You're here to learn from me."

"Learn what?" I ask and I secretly think, "Please, not a sport."

He reads my mind and giggles, his tiny self convulsing with laughter. He says, "Everything you need to know is written in these books," and his little hand gestures upward, towards the shelves that stretch a hundred feet.

And for some reason, the hauntedness disappears. I am a student again and I feel safe in this gigantic library with my tiny trainer and I've always been an eager pupil and if this elf wants me to learn from all these books then I will.

He says, "Let's start but you must be ready because... it will hurt. You must listen to me always and follow everything I say." His little almond eyes twinkle at me.

And I silently think, "Jesus. Am I to be the next Electric Michaelangelo?" But he reads my mind again and giggles.

I try something. "Can you read my mind?" I say silently, in my mind.

"Yes," he says in his mind.

"I read minds too. I think. Sometimes. I'm good at guessing people's intentions," I say silently, in my mind. This is the weirdest conversation I've had in my life.

"It's a talent of yours which has always creeped you out a bit, hasn't it?"

I hang my head guiltily and also to hide a tear. "It's made me paranoid and crazy."

He giggles out loud and says to me in his head, "It's made you a good teacher and you've never been wrong in Elimidate."

I walk around the shelves and let my fingers graze the spines of the books and I feel a peace descend upon me. How nice to have someone understand me. To know what I'm thinking even before I have thought it. To not think of me as malicious. To take time out to train me. How could this possibly hurt? I could spend a lifetime and learn everything I need to know from my elf trainer and never go back to the world. I could die here.

I pick a book. "I'd like to start with this please --" but when I turn around to hand him the book, he's gone.