Chapter Text
Colet Vergara has a reputation.
Quiet. Smart. Terrifying. She likes it like that—it means people only talk to her when they find it absolutely necessary. Like now, for example, as she stands by her locker next to Stacey Sevilleja, who is looking down at her phone and pretending that it’s pure coincidence that they happen to be breathing the same air.
Colet shuffles through the contents of her locker, searching for the specific English essay she’d written for Stacey, who avoids eye contact as she mutters, “Speed it up, Vergara. I haven’t got all day.”
Colet rolls her eyes and pulls out the essay, handing it discreetly and accepting the two thousand pesos in cash that Stacey exchanges smoothly. They’ve made this exchange several times before, so it’s become a seamless transaction. Colet nods once to her before closing her locker and walking away without another word.
Stacey is only one of her clients. Colet’s underground essay-writing business is thriving amongst students, particularly those with things to lose if their grades slip. For Stacey, it’s her spot as head cheerleader. She makes five more stops, pocketing almost ten thousand pesos before the next bell even rings.
She’s splitting the profit at the start of second period when the only person she can stand, Gwen Apuli, slides her bag to the ground and takes the seat next to Colet, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Colet returns cooly, reaching over to slip Gwen’s cut of this morning’s earnings easily into her hands, like they’ve done it a thousand times. And they have.
Gwen insisted on being Colet’s business manager around the time that Colet’s essay-writing business really started taking off, back when they were freshmen. It’s made Colet’s load significantly easier, seeing as she only has to worry about the essays themselves, and does very little in handling the actual customers.
Gwen crosses her arms, subtly sliding it all into her pocket and nodding appreciatively at Colet. She glances around in the way she does when she’s about to talk business, making sure nobody is listening in before she leans closer and lowers her voice, “By the way, you have a new client. He’s insisting you meet in person first, so I’ve set you up for this afternoon on the bleachers.”
“Meet in person? What for?” Colet’s face scrunches up with annoyance. “I only do trade-offs in person. You know this.”
“And I tried to tell him that,” Gwen reassures. “But he was very insistent. Said he’d pay double.” That gives Colet pause—Gwen notices the way her glare dissipates the faintest bit. “Yeah, double. Please meet with him? I’m so close to paying my mom back.”
(Gwen had damaged her family’s car about a month ago. She’s been relying on their little arrangement to try and get out of her grounding a lot sooner.)
Colet nods, but only because she knows her aunt is behind on bills this month.
“Yes! You’re the best,” Gwen leans across the aisle to pull her into a side-hug. Colet grumbles that she knows and pushes Gwen away in the grumpy way that always makes Gwen laugh. She can’t help but return her friend’s smile. “Now… moving on, can I tell you about what an ass Mikha is being?”
“What’s she done now?”
The bleachers are cold and the client is late. It’s a combination that only leaves Colet seething and even more annoyed than she was initially. She sighs, flipping the page of the book she’s reading and doing her best to ignore the cheerleading and football practices going on in the field below.
“Colet?”
She glances up, and the first thing she notices is moppy black curls and an apologetic, dopey smile. It only makes her frown deepen, “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry. Very sorry,” He adds when he notes her glare, stepping over a few rows to take a seat beside her. He holds a hand out, “Maki.”
She doesn’t take it, setting her book aside and pulling out the ledger she keeps, writing in his name, “Alright, so… what subject, and when’s it due?”
“Uh…” He uses the ignored hand to scratch the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m actually looking for something a little more… personal? It’s not for class.”
Colet raises an eyebrow to deepen her unimpressed look, silently urging him to continue. His smile drops and he clears his throat, fishing around in his bag and pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. He holds it out to her, “Look, uh… I know you’re super smart and stuff. And I guess I was just hoping that you could make me sound smarter. For this.”
Colet stares at him for a solid three seconds, hoping he can feel every last inch of her irritation, before she swipes the paper from his hand and begins reading it.
Dear Maloi Ricalde,
I think you’re really beautiful–
“What the fuck is this?” Colet says before she makes it a full sentence in.
“I know, it’s outside of your whole… gig,” He says dumbly. “But I really need help to sound smarter for Maloi Ricalde. Gwen told you I’d pay double, right? I’ll… I’ll pay triple, even. Please?”
Colet sighs, but doesn’t answer. Instead, she looks back down at the paper and makes another attempt to read it.
Dear Maloi Ricalde,
I think you’re really beautiful, I’ve thought so since we were freshmen and you and your sister moved here. But the truth is, even if you weren’t beautiful it wouldn’t matter, and I’d still want to be around you because I think you’re smart and funny, too. My name is Maki. A little bit about me: I play video games and I work part-time in my mom’s antique shop. I also love dipping my fries into my milkshakes at the Grill. Some people think that’s weird, but it’s actually pretty tasty. Would you like to try that with me sometime? Let me know.
Maki
It’s terrible. It’s awful. Colet feels the secondhand embarrassment even though he clearly hasn’t yet sent this to Maloi Ricalde. She subconsciously glances over to where the cheerleaders are practicing, knowing that Maloi is among them but that she’s too far away to be picked out. The secondhand embarrassment pulls at her heart, which slowly starts to fill with pity.
She could ask for triple. Maki has just admitted that he’s willing to pay. But she’s not that cruel.
She curses under her breath and tucks his note into her pocket, offering her hand over without looking at him, “Double.”
She can feel his wide, boyish grin burning into the side of her face as he takes her hand, shaking it quickly, “Thank you, Colet. Thank you.”
An hour later, Colet has arrived at her first problem—she doesn’t know Maloi Ricalde. And Maki doesn’t either, if this letter is anything to go by.
She knows of Maloi Ricalde. Everybody does. She’s one of the most popular girls in school, alongside her older sister, Aiah Ricalde. Their little trio with Stacey is practically untouchable. Out of the three of them, Colet knows Maloi is supposed to be the nicest. But that’s about all she knows.
She tries to approach this like she would one of the essays. Research is always the first step. So, she finds herself opening Instagram and typing Maloi’s name into the search bar. She and her twothousand followers come up almost immediately. It takes everything in Colet not to cringe as she realizes she’s internet stalking for money right now.
“This is it. I’m at my lowest,” She mumbles to herself, leaning back in her desk chair and scrolling through the pictures. Maloi only has about twenty posts, with about half dedicated to family and friends and the other half dedicated to various nature shots and shots of the city. Colet is the tiniest bit surprised by how good of an eye Maloi seems to have for photography, but all of the posts are a very surface-level read into her personality. The captions are all fairly generic, and there’s nothing too personal.
She clicks on Aiah’s account, which is unsurprisingly a lot more populated. There’s hundreds of posts, with the distance between them being practically by the day. She’s a lot more of a chronic poster by the looks of it, as well as a chronic sharer of personal details. Almost none of it is relevant to Maloi, at least… until Colet wanders across Aiah’s birthday post from last year.
The first picture of the post is of the two of them with their father, but the rest are all candid shots of Maloi. Colet stops on one in particular, where Maloi is wearing big, bulky glasses, pajamas with little pandas on them, and is holding a book called This Is Pleasure by Mary Gaitskill. Bingo, Colet thinks, immediately opening her laptop and searching up the book.
By the looks of it, the book explores the Me Too movement from a “fresh perspective,” as Google has deemed it. Colet won’t lie, it sounds like something that would be right up her alley; it’s feminist, educational, and thought-provoking. All things that Colet wouldn’t expect from a popular cheerleader. Not to mention the pandas on Maloi’s pajama bottoms, which Colet would never admit out loud that she finds incredibly adorable.
She finds no other images of Maloi with books, but she can only guess that if she’s reading this in her free time, that the girl must be fairly well-read. So, Colet considers this a good starting point. She enters the next phase of her essay approach; the outline.
Maloi Ricalde
- Cheerleader
- Feminist
- Photography (Hobby? Career goal?)
- Frequent(?) reader
She puffs out a breath and leans back, looking down at the list and wondering how in the hell she’s going to use this information to write a love confession for Maki. Just then, her phone buzzes on the desk beside her.
Incoming call from Gwen Apuli …
Colet answers, “Hey.”
“Vergara! How was your appointment?” Gwen says, sounding far too excited for Colet’s taste.
“It was terrible. Maki is an idiot.”
“Well, that’s why he needs you to write his essay for him, obviously,” Gwen laughs.
“Except he doesn’t need me to write an essay for him. He needs me to fix his love letter to Maloi Ricalde,” Colet grumbles, folding up her ‘outline’ on Maloi and shoving it into her backpack to continue her research with tomorrow at school. Gwen laughs in the way she does when she thinks Colet is being sarcastic. Colet sighs, “I’m serious, Apuli.”
“No fucking way. No you’re not,” Gwen is still laughing. “And you said yes?”
“He’s paying double! Of course I said yes,” Colet practically whines.
“Of course he has a crush on Maloi fucking Ricalde. Who wouldn’t? I did all last year,” Gwen says, and oh, does Colet remember that phase. All she heard about for months was how pretty Maloi is, which was the extent of it because Gwen made absolutely zero attempts to actually talk to Maloi.
“Yeah, well. So far I’m finding this to be a pretty impossible task,” Colet sighs. “Please tell me you know something about Maloi other than she’s on the cheerleading squad and she’s pretty?”
“That about covers all the knowledge I have on her. Sorry,” Gwen barely sounds apologetic. “But hey, some advice? Maybe don’t start with a love confession. I mean, do whatever Maki wants, obviously. But wooing a goddess like Maloi Ricalde isn’t as easy as one simple letter.”
Colet pauses, about to retort that she doesn’t really care to put that much effort into this, but something inside of her twists and tugs, and all she can offer is a simple, “Sure, thanks…”
“So, are you free for dinner, or am I going to the Grill all alone to see Shee?” Gwen’s girlfriend.
Colet rolls her eyes, “I’ll see you at seven.”
The next day at school, Colet notices a few things about Maloi Ricalde that she hadn’t noticed before.
For starters, she’s in Colet’s AP English class. If you had asked Colet before yesterday who was in that class, Maloi Ricalde certainly wouldn’t have been on the list that she would’ve attempted to make. But sure enough, when Colet walks into class, the first thing she notices is that Maloi is sitting in the middle row by the windows.
The second thing she notices is that Maloi never seems to be alone.
Nearly eighty-percent of the time, she and Aiah are linked at the elbows, and the other twenty- percent there’s some other member of the cheerleading squad, or a member of the volleyball team —Mikha Lim in particular, who is absolutely currently crushing on Maloi and probably has a much better shot than Maki.
The last thing Colet notices is that when she smiles… it rarely reaches her eyes.
Colet sees her everywhere, like the second Maki said her name to Colet it flagged the universe, and now all Colet can see is her annoyingly silky-looking ginger hair and the 80s aesthetic her wardrobe has taken on. Like right now, as Colet turns the corner in the hallway, she can see Maloi Ricalde walking down the hall in her direction, her books tucked in her arms and one of her cheerleading friends at her side, and–
Suddenly, the wind is knocked out of Colet.
It takes her a moment to realize another person has collided with her, and everything in her arms has just scattered to the floor. As she drops down to start collecting things, she curses under her breath and tries to push the anger out of her chest.
“These hallways are a death sentence,” A voice says as they crouch down. Colet sees two soft, nimble hands reach for one of her books that had landed pages-down on the floor, picking it up delicately and making sure none of the pages got folded back. As Colet lifts her gaze, she meets chocolate brown eyes. “You okay?”
Colet accepts the book as it’s offered back over and tucks it in with everything else, slowly rising at the same time as Maloi Ricalde, “Uh… yes. Thanks.”
Colet can’t help but clock that now, all of a sudden, other people in the hallway begin to make space, moving around the two of them in a significantly wider berth. Colet wonders briefly if it’s all due to Maloi’s presence.
Maloi seems to spot a stray item of Colet’s—a paper for one of the essays she’s writing for another of her clients—and she dips back down to pick it up, pressing it to her thigh to try and get the crease out. She hands it over, “I’m Maloi.”
“I know,” Colet says before she can stop herself. “I’m Colet.”
Maloi smiles, “I know. You wrote my friend, Stacey’s last English essay, I think. She never told me, but… I knew when she said ‘it’s about Virginia Woolf’s feminism… and stuff’ that she definitely had nothing to do with it.”
Colet laughs, though it sounds more like a suppressed cough, “I, uh…”
Maloi waits for her to finish, but the second their eyes meet again Colet forgets what she was going to say. She’s about to panic and say something stupid when Maloi saves her from having to speak at all, “Well… stay safe out there.” There’s a lilt to it that tells Colet she’s being teased, but she doesn’t get the chance to retort because Maloi is already walking away.
Immediately, the space left for the two of them in the hallway is filled with bodies yet again.
Colet writes her first draft of the letter that evening before she goes to bed.
The next day, she finds Maki at his locker before first period. He’s eating pretzels from a snacksized bag, his head tossed back as he dumps the last of them into his mouth. Several crumbs are on the front of his shirt when she comes to a stop beside him, and she gives him the most unimpressed look.
He’s quick to brush them off and scamper to close his locker, “Colet! Hi! Did you–” He lowers his voice. “Did you finish the letter?”
“Yeah,” Colet pulls it from her jacket, holding it close to her. “Do you have the money?”
He scrambles to pat his pockets and dig around his bag until he produces some crumpled cash. Colet counts it with her eyes before she hands him the note in exchange.
She watches him as he reads it.
Dear Maloi Ricalde,
You might not know me, but I’ve noticed you. I’ve noticed your kindness, your style, your beauty… and I decided that I don’t want to wake up one day and regret not trying to get to know you better. You seem like the kind of girl that I would love to learn from and learn more about… and I’ve heard that there are very few who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.
Maki
Maki lowers the paper, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tries to process, “Uh, so… you think she’ll like this?”
“I think that I’m a girl and I know what girls like,” Colet shrugs. “I hope it goes well for you, Maki.”
She starts to walk away, but he grabs onto her arm to stop her. She glares down at his hand until he removes it, “Sorry! I just… thanks.”
Colet doesn’t say anything, she just purses her lips and walks to class.
“Colet! Colet!”
She continues to unchain her bike from the rack, ignoring the voice calling out to her.
With a sigh, she throws her leg over and pushes off, starting down the sidewalk and gliding easily between the crowd. She hears running footsteps behind her.
“Colet!” He tries again. She doesn’t stop, but she does slow down enough so that Maki can catch up to her. She doesn’t look at him as he jogs beside her, “She wrote back!”
She hits the breaks.
He keeps jogging for a few seconds before he realizes she’s stopped. When he does, he leans over to place his hands on his knees and take a few breaths. The letter is in his hand, and Colet takes a few aggressive steps closer and snatches it from him, looking it over.
Dear Maki,
I like Jane Austen too. I wouldn’t have plagiarized her, though.
Maloi
Colet can’t help the huff of amusement that she lets out.
Her brows furrow in surprise as she reads over Maloi’s words once, twice, several times. She writes in a pretty cursive because of course everything about her has to be picturesque.
“You plagiarized?” Maki huffs, sounding irritated.
Colet sighs, “I did not plagiarize Pride and Prejudice, I quoted it.” She thinks back to her letter, remembering that she hadn’t put a single thing in quotes. She shrugs a shoulder with a slight frown, “Well… maybe I plagiarized a little.”
“Well, this is great! Now she thinks I’m a cheater!”
“You are kind of a cheater, seeing as you didn’t write the letter to begin with–”
“That’s not what I mean, Colet,” He grumbles, sliding his foot on the sidewalk like a child. “How do I fix this?”
Colet is about to say something along the lines of I don’t know, I’m not your therapist, but there’s something about his sad, kicked-puppy look that makes her feel guilty. She throws her head back and closes her eyes, inhales, then forces a smile, “To me, this reads as… a challenge. She’s intrigued. She wants to see where you’ll take it.”
“So, what do we do?”
“We?”
“You have to help me, Colet. Please?” He clasps his hands together in a begging gesture. “I’ll keep paying. I’ll do anything.”
“...How do you even know you like Maloi? You don’t know her.”
“Sure. But I know that I think about her all the time and I want to know her. That’s enough for me,” He says, sounding like a lovesick puppy.
Colet thinks that his entire existence has the energy of a sad labrador retriever. Colet lets out something between a growl and a groan, shoving Maloi’s letter back into his chest, “Fine.”
She pushes back off on her bike, leaving him standing there a little confused but simultaneously a little hopeful.
Game on, Maloi Ricalde. Game on.
Dear Maloi,
You got me—I sometimes hide behind other people’s words. For one thing, I’m a pretty simple guy. I’ve lived in the city my whole life… I hang out with my friends… I keep my head down… Which is to say, if I knew anything about love, I would probably plagiarize myself.
Maki
Dear Maki,
I turn to other people’s words, too. Mostly because it’s easier to hide behind them than to say what I actually think. I guess that makes me like a lot of other people, and therefore… I’m nobody. Are you nobody, too?
Maloi
Colet would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised by Maloi Ricalde.
She was sure Maki’s letter would get a simple hair twirl and a “that’s cute” before she either ignored it or showed it to her friends, who would likely use it to humiliate him in front of the whole school. But instead, she recognized Colet’s Jane Austen reference and has just admitted that she feels like a nobody. By plagiarizing Emily Dickinson, no less. What does Colet even say to that?
She’s lowering Maloi’s latest response, momentarily stunned to silence, when Maki taps his foot impatiently beside her, “So… I can text her now, right?”
“What?” Colet snaps out of it, turning sharply to him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Um… no?” He holds his phone up, showing a half-written text to a number that Colet doesn’t recognize.
She swipes his phone from his hand and deletes it, “You seriously don’t see what’s happening?” She waves the letter around in her other hand. “You have to keep it going for at least a little longer, otherwise… she’s going to think you’re just like everyone else.”
(She doesn’t admit to herself or otherwise that actually, deep down, she really, really doesn’t want to hand this thing over to Maki just yet.)
“Oh. Right,” Maki nods thoughtfully. “So, then… what now?”
Dear Maloi,
If I’m being honest, the last thing I ever expected to hear you say is that you feel like no one. But then again, popularity must be isolating in some regard that I’ve never truly considered before.
Maki
(P.S. I like Emily Dickinson too. I wouldn’t have plagiarized her, though.)
Dear Maki,
You do know which Ricalde sibling you’re talking to, right?
Maloi
(P.S. I think it’s only fair after the Jane Austen incident.)
Dear Maloi,
Of course I do. If your implication is that Aiah is more popular than you, then I think you’ve been ignoring the way over half the school looks at you. The fear response most people have to Aiah can be deceiving, for sure…
Maki
(P.S. Fair enough.)
Dear Maki,
Nobody is more scared of her than I am. You haven’t seen her on a Saturday morning when our dad drinks the last of the coffee without starting a new pot. Absolute chaos.
I like to think I’m different from Aiah, or Stacey… but then again, aren’t all the things that make us different actually what makes others different, too?
Maloi
“Colet, darling? Would you come here for a second?”
Colet pauses in the threshold of the front door, turning on her heel and following the sound of her aunt’s voice into the kitchen.
Her aunt Josie is sat at the island, a spread of overdue bills laid out in front of her. Alongside it is the envelope of cash Colet had left with them just last night, with all of the money she’s earned through her business in the past couple of weeks (and the boost she’s gotten from Maki’s continued purchases).
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help,” Her aunt says, a tired lilt to her voice as she counts through the money. She eyes Colet over her coffee. “But how did you get all of this?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Colet shrugs. “I’m doing what I can. Just like you.”
“I hope… I hope you don’t feel obligated to… I don’t want you to feel obligated…” She inhales, letting out a sharp breath of frustration. “I’m supposed to be the adult.”
Colet comes up behind her and rests her head on top of her Aunt Josie’s, wrapping her arms around her aunt with a warmth that Colet barely shows to anyone else. In a tone that doesn’t match her current action, she says, “If you don’t accept it, I’ll never watch another rom-com with you again.”
She feels Josie huff with laughter, “As if you don’t already go out of your way to avoid those as much as possible.”
“Yeah. But maybe if you stop asking questions, I’ll stop avoiding them,” Colet shrugs, letting go of her aunt and starting towards the door again.
“Just… promise me you’re not doing anything illegal?”
“Morally questionable? Yes. Illegal? Absolutely not,” Colet smiles, but it feels more like a grimace. “I’d never do anything to disappoint you. Or them.”
The way Josie’s face softens tells Colet that she’s thinking of Colet’s parents, too.
“Okay…” Josie says quietly, holding out a hand that Colet accepts. She gives it a squeeze. “Tell me about it someday?”
“I promise to.”
Today, Colet sees Maloi re-reading Pride and Prejudice.
She can’t help but wonder if it’s because of that first letter, if Colet is the one who inspired her to do so. She isn’t sure how to describe the feeling she gets in her stomach when she thinks about Maloi thinking of her (not her, but her words) in that way.
She thinks that if she were to compare Maloi to any character, it would probably be Jane Bennet, though she’s not entirely sure what’s leading her to that conclusion. Perhaps it’s the way her eyes sparkled with kindness when they’d locked eyes after Colet’s unfortunate collision in the hallway several days ago. Perhaps it’s because she’s the kind of beautiful that is both quiet and loud at the same time.
Perhaps Colet is thinking too hard about this.
“Did you see Stacey’s outfit today? Total slay.”
Colet rolls her eyes as she washes her hands in the sink of the girl’s restroom, trying her best to ignore the conversation happening between two girls seated in neighboring stalls.
“When is she not dressed perfectly?”
The door opens and closes behind Colet. It isn’t until she feels eyes on her that she looks up, freezing momentarily as hot water continues to burn over her hands. She meets Maloi Ricalde’s eyes in the mirror as she stands just off to the side, waiting for one of the stalls to clear.
“Ugh, I want to own her closet. Where do you think she shops?” The girls continue.
Maloi makes a face at Colet in the mirror, one that tells her isn’t this a ridiculous thing to talk about while peeing? Colet can’t help but smirk in response.
“No clue. But wherever it is, she seriously needs to start taking her entourage there. Maloi desperately needs a wardrobe update.”
“Ugh, for real. Do you think she wears shoulder pads or do you think her shoulders are seriously that manly?” They laugh.
There’s a moment where Colet feels a few things all at once—pity, anger, and the faintest urge to tell them to shut up. But she doesn’t have time to process any of it, because all she can focus on is the way Maloi’s smile is wiped from her face as she stands there, listening quietly. Colet wants to speak up, wants to tell Maloi that she admires her sense of style, but she doesn’t get the chance to because Maloi rushes out of the bathroom without a word.
I’m nobody, I’m nobody…
Maloi’s words from one of her earlier letters echo in Colet’s mind. She never thought that to be true, even when she was under the full impression that Maloi is only a pretty face. Suddenly, Colet thinks it doesn’t sound so much like a complaint. Colet thinks it sounds more like a desire.
Dear Maloi,
I’ve thought a lot about what you’ve said about being different, and I think I get it now. We all want to be able to look at the person we are on the inside and see something truly unique. Something that we can live with. I’m sure that can be difficult when we live in the age of constant comparison.
But if you want to know what I think… I think that all the things that make us different make us see all the things that make us similar, and that line can be very difficult to unblur. I think that once we separate ourselves from others and their opinions, our differences become clearer. And I think I’m starting to see yours.
Maki
Later the same day, Colet is in the library when she sees Maloi again.
She’s poking through the fiction section looking for a copy of Pride and Prejudice when she notices her, taking a seat at one of the tables in the center of the shelves. Then she notices the note. Her note.
She watches Maloi read it. She watches a thoughtful look cross over her face. She thinks she sees a faint, near-undetectable smile pass through. She feels warm when Maloi pulls out a notebook and starts to write (what is likely) her response.
She looks back to the books on the shelf so as not to get caught staring. It’s then that she finds a copy of Pride and Prejudice, peeling at the edges. She grabs it and steps out from her hiding spot, maintaining an air of casualness. She’s made it a few feet past Maloi’s table when a soft voice calls out to her.
“Good choice.” Colet glances over her shoulder, seeing Maloi has paused her writing and is looking up at Colet with those brown, inviting doe eyes.
She notices her copy of Pride and Prejudice is laid out on the table just beside her notebook.
“Thanks,” Colet manages to get out. “You too.”
She’s about to turn around and walk away, but something stops her.
“Oh, and–” Maloi looks back up, waiting patiently. Colet offers a small smile, “I like your outfit. It suits you.” Maloi doesn’t respond verbally, but her smile widens into something brighter than Colet has seen yet.
Something flips in her stomach and she dismisses it as the anxiety that usually comes with talking to people unfamiliar to her.
(She doesn’t want Maloi to be unfamiliar to her, but she’d never admit that. Not yet, anyway.)
Dear Maki,
Oh, yeah? And are those differences good or bad?
Maloi
Dear Maloi,
I haven’t decided yet. But I’m leaning towards good.
Maki
“Doesn’t Shee look so adorable in that little apron?” Gwen says over her milkshake, her eyes somewhere off in the distance behind Colet’s head.
If Colet had to guess, she’s probably looking at Sheena’s smile. They’re at the Grill, as is their weekly tradition. Sheena gives them her discount if they go on nights that she’s working, which they always do because Gwen can’t be away from her for more than a few hours at a time. Not that Colet’s complaining… Sheena is the only one that makes her milkshakes right.
“M-hmm,” Colet finally hums as she takes a sip.
“You’re not even looking.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re looking at me.”
“She’s your girlfriend. You want me to check out your girlfriend?”
“Well… I guess not,” Gwen makes a face.
Colet kicks her under the table. “Ow!”
“That was probably deserved,” Colet hears Sheena’s voice as she approaches, coming to a stop beside their table. She smirks down at her girlfriend. “Gotta be careful with short girls, bebe. There’s a whole lotta rage kicking around in our tiny bodies.” Gwen looks offended that Sheena has taken Colet’s side.
Colet raises her eyebrows and smiles mischievously at Gwen, who just grumbles something about how her girlfriend and her best friend teaming up against her is simply cruel and unusual.
Colet takes another sip of her milkshake and tries to look innocent. “Can I get you guys anything else?” Sheena asks after a beat of Gwen pouting, the affection clear in her voice. She steps closer and runs a hand over Gwen’s shoulders, instantly making some of Gwen’s moodiness slip away.
“No, thank you,” Colet says quietly.
“Do you know if anyone’s signed up for open mic tonight?” Gwen asks.
“Uhh…” Sheena squints. “I think I saw a… a Michael and… Maloi?” Colet immediately stiffens.
Gwen locks eyes with her, a faux-scandalous wideness to her expression. Sheena notices, “Is that bad? Good?”
“Oh, so good,” Gwen nudges Colet under the table. “This’ll be fun.” Sheena shakes her head with a chuckle and squeezes Gwen’s shoulder before letting go and wandering off to check on other tables.
Gwen immediately turns her head and starts eyeballing the rest of the restaurant, probably looking for Maloi.
Colet feels like murdering her, “Would you stop it?”
“This is great for research. For your letters,” Gwen says, as if Colet doesn’t know exactly what she means and needs clarification. “How is that going, by the way? Maki still can’t deal with his own romantic pursuit for shit?”
“I won’t get into specifics, but… god, no.”
“I can’t tell if that’s endearing or completely embarrassing.”
“You can’t tell?”
“...Okay. You’re right. It’s just embarrassing,” Gwen laughs in the full-chested way she does when she’s being mean and has zero remorse about it. It’s the kind of laugh that Colet can’t help but return. Her eye catches something behind Colet’s head, “Oh! There she is.”
Colet has never turned faster in her life. She might have whiplash.
Sure enough, Maloi Ricalde is sitting over towards the bar with a guitar in her hand. She’s with her sister, the two of them talking quietly between themselves. Colet had no clue that Aiah had a quiet setting.
When Maloi walks out onto the stage, those that are in the restaurant (and are paying attention) quietly applaud. She smiles awkwardly as she takes a seat on a stool set up in front of a microphone, settling her guitar in her lap and plucking a few notes as she gets situated.
She glances up, squinting against the light aimed directly at her. “Hey, I’m Maloi,” She says like it’s the least important thing anyone will hear today. Like she shouldn’t be remembered. “This is a song of mine. I hope you like it.”
(Aiah cheers and claps loudly—much more loudly than the rest of the crowd. She sees Maloi’s cheeks tinge pink and can only think: how cute.)
The second that Maloi strums her first chord, she has Colet’s undivided attention.
She sings in a much lower register than Colet is expecting—it makes her stomach flip and her eyes widen.
All Colet can focus on is the poetry of it all, and Maloi’s voice, and the way her eyes closed and hasn’t reopened since she began. She feels Maloi’s words swirl around in her brain, her velvety singing voice wrapping itself around Colet’s heart and squeezing as tight as it possibly can. The lyrics are lonely and hopeful all at once, and it makes Maloi so much more clear to her.
When Maloi finishes, Colet wonders if anyone has ever looked as beautiful as Maloi Ricalde does as she comes out of her musical trance, eyes opening and cheeks flushing a deep red when she remembers there’s been an audience the entire time.
She’s sure no one has.
When Colet gets home that evening, she crumples up the list of research she’d started and had been adding to throughout the past two weeks. She thinks that a simple list can’t possibly sum up Maloi Ricalde.
Dear Maki,
Well, in that case… I hope your perception of me only gets better as we get to know one another.
Maloi