Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: Mean Claudine
Chapter Two: The Mango Tree
Chapter Three: A Dose of Happiness
Chapter Four: Nanay Dadang’s Sari-Sari Store
Chapter Five: Daughter of Rain and Sunshine
Chapter Six: The Best Party of the Year
Chapter Seven: Seven Steps to Gayuma Making
Chapter Eight: The Arbularyo’s Apprentice
Chapter Nine: Bagayan’s Best Yema Balls
Chapter Ten: BFFAE: Best Friends Forever And Ever
Chapter Eleven: A Barrage of Clingy Text Messages
Chapter Twelve: The Broken Fish
Chapter Thirteen: Claudine Dimasalang at Your Service
Chapter Fourteen: Dogs Rule, Cats Drool!
Chapter Fifteen: Happy Birthday, Claudine
Chapter Sixteen: The Sea of Cotton Candy
Chapter Seventeen: The Lighthouse of Mount Mahal
Chapter Eighteen: A Starry Night of Sorries and Whatnots
Chapter Nineteen: Bittersweet Farewell Candies
Chapter Twenty: The Magic of Forgiveness
Chapter Twenty-One: Typhoon Totoy
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Ugly Truth
Chapter Twenty-Three: Tent Number 283
Chapter Twenty-Four: Scaredy-Cat
Chapter Twenty-Five: Sagip
Chapter Twenty-Six: Goodbye
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Seven Candles
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Promise to a Friend
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Twenty-Fifth of April
Jolina’s Yema Balls Recipe
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
My Fate According to the Butterfly excerpt
Copyright
There are two kinds of magic. One happens by chance. For example, your cooking-challenged mom makes an amazing chicken adobo by accidentally dumping the right ingredients in a pot. Or maybe you find yourself having car trouble and a stranger just walks up to help you. Totally random, everyday miracles.
But there’s also the kind of magic you intentionally make happen. The kind that some people find hard to believe—it’s magic that can’t be real, but it actually is.
Ever since my parents and I moved to Isla Pag-Ibig from Marikina City in Metro Manila, I’ve seen more of the intentional magic than the random one.
Because my grandfather, my lolo Sebyo, can do the intentional kind—and so can I.
Well, sort of.
Lolo Sebyo is an arbularyo, a faith healer. He heals people with prayer, herbal oils, and massage. Sometimes, even with magic—real magic.
I’m Lolo Sebyo’s apprentice. And part of being an arbularyo-in-training is running errands for Lolo like buying herbs and groceries from the wet market.
Woof!
My dog, Kidlat, runs to the river before I can stop him. He’s like a brown-and-white cannonball splashing into the water by the side of the road.
“Oh, come on!” I groan. I’m tempted to join him. It’s a Friday afternoon, and the sun is out—a much-needed break from the usual early-September rains. But the stuff I bought is heavy and I know I should bring it right home. “Lolo’s waiting for us. We don’t have time for this.”
Kidlat stops splashing about. He looks at me with his big brown eyes. I imagine him saying, “You know you want to, Jolina!”
“Okay, you win,” I say with a sigh, securing my shopping bag behind a giant rock. I hoist my shorts up and join my dog in the water. Kidlat’s begging is totally manipulative. Yet I still fall for it. Every. Single. Time. “Let’s go swimming. But just for a bit.”
The water is cold on my skin and so clear I can see my toes. Above, the afternoon sun peeks through a canopy of leaves and branches. The rays touch the water’s surface, making little specks that look like tiny, dancing fairies of light.
I have to admit Kidlat’s right. Taking a dip is a great idea. “You’re such a smart boy!”
Kidlat swims beside me. His nose is warm as it nudges my thigh.
“You like this?” I scratch Kidlat on the two brown spots behind his ears. I love him so much. We wouldn’t have been able to afford to get a dog of his breed—he’s a Jack Russell terrier with a fancy pedigree. But our kind neighbor in Marikina City gave him to me as a gift when I was five.
I’m twelve now, and Kidlat and I are still the best of friends. Our best friendship will last till the end of time.
Kidlat floats on his back in my arms and closes his eyes.
I giggle. “Silly dog.”
Mom said there used to be more water flowing through this shallow river. It was so deep, she couldn’t walk on the bed the way I’m doing now. But things change.
Like my life. I never expected my family to move away from Marikina City. I close my eyes like Kidlat does. Marikina is an old city. It has a river too, but no way you’d want to swim in it. Mom said someone once had the idea of using janitor fish to clean the dirty water. That plan backfired—the river is not only still dirty, it’s also full of janitor fish now.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Joh-lai-nah Bagayan.”
Ugh. Not her again.
So much for a nice afternoon swim.
Claudine Dimasalang sits on a giant rock on the riverbank. She’s brown but lighter than me and has the high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes I wish I had. Her wavy black hair has bright pink, blue, and purple highlights.
And she knows my first name is Jolina. As in, Joh-lee-na with a long e. We’ve been attending the same Bible study group since my family moved here three months ago. She’s also been making my life miserable since then.
“You not supposed to take a bath there, little girl,” she says in this bossy voice that grates in my ears. Listening to Claudine is like hearing fingernails scratch a blackboard. It’s irritating and painful.
She loves to bring up my height, but it’s not like Claudine herself is that tall. Sure, I’m a bit on the short side—my homeroom teacher in Marikina always put me up front during the flag ceremony. And admittedly, Claudine is a head taller than me. But calling me a little girl is too much of a stretch, especially when I’m five months older than she is.
“I don’t see a sign saying I can’t swim here.” My jaw clenches. I mustn’t get angry. It’s hard to do whenever Claudine’s around. I muster a smile that makes me look like I just swallowed sinamak vinegar. “Other people swim here.”
Claudine raises her eyebrows, her lips curved into a smirk.
Okay. I think people swim here. I was so sure they did. But now that Claudine’s here, I can’t be certain anymore.
I just hate how easily Claudine makes me doubt myself.
“Do you see anyone else here aside from you and your dog?” she sneers, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Claudine’s always messing with her hair.
“But no one says I can’t.” I’m not letting her get the best of me. “In Marikina, we have signs for things we’re not supposed to do.”
Claudine’s sneer turns into a scowl. “You’re far from Manila now. You can’t bring your disgusting habits here and force them on everyone else.”
What is wrong with this girl? “I’m not forcing my habits on anybody—”
“I saw your mother at the resort today.”
I grit my teeth but say nothing.
Claudine’s family owns the biggest luxury resort in Isla Pag-Ibig—the very same resort where my mother works.
Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything.
I take a deep breath, then exhale slowly like Mom taught me. She practices a lot of calming exercises. And I really, really need to be calm right now.
“Your mother would
be so horrified to hear what you’ve been doing,” she says coyly. “What if I tell my mother to tell your mother—”
“You wouldn’t.” Well, I hope she wouldn’t.
I’m still not sure what I’m doing wrong, but Mom is a trainee. She doesn’t have the privileges of a regular employee yet. Like, they can fire her anytime. And I don’t want to give Claudine’s mom any reason to.
I have a bad feeling Claudine knows that too.
Claudine flips her hair again. “How would you know?”
I ball my fists. It’s getting really, really hard for me not to lash out.
Claudine looks pointedly at my hands. “What are you going to do, use your magic wand on me?”
Ugh! I hate being powerful and so powerless at the same time. I have magic, but I can’t use it on this mean girl. It’s one of Lolo’s rules: Never use magic to hurt others. We heal people. We don’t harm them.
Besides, I don’t have a magic wand. My family’s magic doesn’t work that way.
“Come on, good boy,” I tell Kidlat, looping my arm around his tummy as I wade away from Claudine.
But she’s obviously not done with me yet.
“You only have magic because of your family,” she spits. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t give it to an untalented nobody like you.”
Ouch.
Okay, so … I’m not very good at magic. I don’t even know why my lolo keeps trying to teach me. Granted, I only started magic lessons a few months ago when we moved here. But every single potion I’ve tried to brew has so far been nothing but a big glop of failure.
Like I said, Claudine Dimasalang really knows the best way to make me feel like my worst self.
I still keep my mouth shut even as a lump forms in my throat. Think about Mom. You’ll get Mom in trouble if you fight back, I tell myself over and over again.
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” My voice cracks as I punch my fists into the water.
Kidlat must sense my pain—he licks my cheek. Doggie kisses are nice, but I want Claudine to just go away.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Joh-lai-nah.” Claudine snorts. “You have so much to learn about life here in Isla Pag-Ibig, dayo.”
Dayo. A visitor. I’ve been trying to make this island my new home for my family’s sake. But there are people who will never accept me. People like Claudine.
I hold Kidlat tighter. His calming presence is the only thing that’s stopping me from answering back.
Mom’s job. Remember, Mom’s job.
“Free advice for you, dayo.” Claudine points at the north end of the river, the side where the water flows down from the mountain. “You never swim in the downstream path of a bathing carabao.”
My eyes follow the direction where she’s pointing. Claudine’s right—there is a bathing water buffalo. An image of it pooping flashes in my head, and I immediately splash back to the riverbank.
Gross!
Claudine laughs. “See you around, Joh-lai-nah.”
So much for a peaceful afternoon swim.
I don’t know how long I can put up with this. But my parents have enough to worry about already—we can’t afford getting Mom fired from her job too.
I wish I could use magic on Claudine. I wish Lolo could channel his powers and transform her into a water buffalo. Or at the least, I’m sure there’s a potion to turn her into a nice person or something. But Lolo would never use magic with bad intentions.
One day, Claudine will get what she deserves. Life will find a way.
Well, I hope it will. Because it would be too unfair for Claudine to keep getting away with being mean to everyone who’s not as rich as she is.
Isla Pag-Ibig is a weird-shaped island. It’s very tiny. You probably won’t see it on the Philippine map. But if you use an online map where you can zoom in on stuff, you’ll notice that it actually resembles a heart tilting to the right. The indent of the heart, which faces the Philippine Sea, is owned by Claudine’s family. It’s where her mother built their resort on a beautiful white-sand beach.
Lolo Sebyo’s home is in Barangay San Pedro. The barangay—the village—is a very small coastal community on the west side of the island. We’re far from the town proper, where the island’s rich families and businesspeople live. Our beach has dark sand and is full of pebbles. There are sharp corals in the breakwater ten meters from the shore, which cut your feet if you try swimming without sandals or flip-flops.
Later that evening, I hoist myself up on a branch of the old mango tree in my grandfather’s yard. It reaches over Lolo Sebyo’s potion lab, sheltering it from the elements with its sturdy, ancient branches. It’s a miracle this tree is still standing. Dad says mango trees don’t grow roots deep enough to withstand typhoons, except for this one. He thinks the mango tree knows it’s protecting something important.
This mango tree is also my favorite place to hang out. The view from it is just amazing. Across the water, the town of Bulusan leaves a perfect outline on the horizon, separating heaven from the sea. The sun turns the sky dark blue and orange just before the stars begin to appear.
“Oof!” I grab a branch to steady myself as Kidlat jumps on the branch next to me. He slathers my face with dog kisses before I can complain. “Okay, okay. You’re forgiven.”
I look up the mango tree. There’s still some fallen fruit on the ground that we weren’t able to harvest, but thankfully, mango season’s over. Last month, an overly ripe mango nearly fell on my head. If Kidlat hadn’t warned me, I would have been knocked out.
“I love you, fur-ball. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I tell my dog, hugging him close. Kidlat nuzzles my neck in response. His short fur tickles my skin. I giggle, bringing my phone up behind him. “Let’s take a photo.”
On cue, Kidlat goes into selfie mode. He tilts his head and widens his eyes.
I hold up my phone and do the same, grinning like the happy girl that I’m not.
Lolo Sebyo always says I have all the features of a Bagayan. High forehead, a flat nose, and big eyes. Dark brown skin. Mom tells me my eyelashes are beautiful, and my black hair is straight and thick, but I don’t think anyone but her has ever noticed.
Then again, Mom isn’t as dark as me. I may have inherited the Bagayan arbularyo potential, but I also got Dad’s dark gums.
Dad says our dark gums are caused by melanin. Bagayans have a lot of melanin. More melanin also means darker skin, which Lolo, Dad, and I have.
Kidlat whines. I look down and find him still keeping up his pose.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Giggling, I snap the picture and turn off my phone. Like clockwork, he snaps out of his selfie mode.
“Such a strange dog!” a deep voice says. From my low perch, I find my grandfather leaning on his walking cane and smiling at me. “He understands technology better than I do.”
“Lolo!” I exclaim. Kidlat jumps off the tree and goes to greet my grandpa. Lolo Sebyo is recovering well from his stroke earlier this year, but his legs still aren’t as strong as they used to be, and I don’t want him to lose his balance. I hop down after Kidlat and grab his harness before he can stand on his hind legs to jump on Lolo, but my grandfather just laughs and scratches my dog’s ears.
I take Lolo’s other hand, touching its back to my forehead. “Mano po—your hand, please.”
In response to my sign of respect, Lolo Sebyo draws a cross in the air. “God bless you.”
“I bought the stuff you needed, Lolo.” I beam at him. “I left it in your lab. Did you see?”
“Oh, yes! Thank you, my Bee,” says Lolo Sebyo.
My family calls me “J-Bee,” or “Bee,” from my full name, Jolina Beatrice. I’m lucky Claudine doesn’t know that, or I’d never hear the end of it.
“Bad day?” Lolo Sebyo smiles. It’s a small smile, but somehow, it takes away some of my sadness.
How does he know? Lolo really is magical. He may even be able to fix my problem with Claudine, but I can’t tell him about her. I don’t wa
nt him to talk to Claudine’s mother and cause problems with Mom’s job. Don’t get me wrong, Lolo Sebyo wouldn’t intentionally do anything to jeopardize Mom’s job. But seeing how awful Claudine is, I have a bad feeling her mother might be the same way. The mango doesn’t fall far from the tree after all. It just falls right under its branches, or on top of my head.
“Kidlat and I accidentally took a bath in Kaibigan River with a carabao, Lolo,” I say, nodding glumly. That’s part of the truth, at least.
“That certainly sounds bad.” Lolo Sebyo chuckles, ruffling my hair the way he scratched Kidlat’s ears.
I pout. I know it sounds silly, but he didn’t have to laugh. “I’ll always just be a dayo in this island. I’ll just be this Manila girl who’ll never get the ways of the Islanons.”
“I’m sorry, little Bee. I should not have laughed.” Lolo Sebyo’s expression turns serious. “Coming to a new place is always hard. But you will fit in eventually. Just have a little faith.”
I study Lolo Sebyo. The right side of his face is drooping slightly, making him seem older than his late sixties. He’s a short, thin man with a huge bald spot in the middle of his head of white hair. Lolo Sebyo has dark gums too, but they’re hidden under his dentures. I wonder if there are dentures that would let you keep your teeth but can hide your dark gums. I’d buy one of those, for sure.
“I hope you’re right, Lolo,” I say, sighing.
I do well in school—great, even. Like, honors kind of well. The public school here is teaching us stuff I already learned last year from the Montessori I went to in Marikina. My classmates are friendly, but I’m not close to any of them.
I guess I’m sending out a “dayo vibe” to my Isla Pag-Ibig classmates. Or, more likely, Claudine must have told them bad things about me. Claudine is homeschooled, but some of my classmates are also in the Bible study group Claudine and I both attend, and she’s always chatting with them.
The irony is that despite feeling like an outsider, my family’s magic is accepted by everyone in a way it never was in the city. Many of the islanders are my grandfather’s customers, after all. Back in the city, I couldn’t tell anyone about my family. I was afraid they would mock my grandfather and call him a scammer, since the only “arbularyos” they’d met were the fake ones who ask for odd things like roast chicken and pancit canton as “spirit offerings.” Lolo Sebyo never asks for anything in return for his magic.
Sugar and Spite Page 1