“Nora! We missed you in class today.” He smiled, waving me over. “Have you had a chance to read the book of folktales I gave to you?”
I hesitated, then moved closer. “Sorry po, I haven’t. I had to work. My mom is sick and she needs medicine,” I said, patting my armload of garlands. “I’ll come another time.”
“Sorry to hear about your mother. I hope she will be well soon, so you can come to class.” He flipped the side cover over. “By the way, I have something special for you today,” said Kuya Efren, handing me an unfamiliar paperback book. He smiled down at me, crinkling his eyes at the corners.
The title on the cover read 6th Grade Reviewer. The pages were filled with math problems, Filipino, and social studies exercises. A slip of yellow paper fell out. Kuya picked it up, smoothed it open, handed it to me, and said, “Go on, read it!”
It was a flier about St. Anne’s Academy. My eyes scanned the advertisement.
St. Anne’s Priory, located at the St. Anne’s Academy campus. The sisters would like to invite girls between the ages of five and fourteen to apply for this year’s St. Anne’s Academic Scholarship for deserving girls in need. The scholarship includes tuition and books. Along with instruction and prayer, candidates will participate in the care and maintenance of the convent. Applications are now open.
I looked up at Kuya. “I don’t understand. This is about scholarships. I’m not in school right now. Don’t you need good grades to win one of these?”
Kuya tapped a finger on the paper in my hand. “This is a different kind. St. Anne’s gives a scholarship to a deserving child in need every year. You have an edge because you’ve only missed a year of school and you deserve to keep going. All you need is a recommendation, which I will give you. Then all you have to do is take an entrance exam.”
“A test?” I frowned, staring down at the paper. The letters began to swirl and tumble before my eyes. Was it true? Could I really go back to school? “I don’t know if I can pass it.”
Kuya laughed. “Don’t worry! Just work through the book I gave you. If you have questions, I will be here every Friday afternoon and on the weekends. The test is still a couple of months away so there is enough time to prepare.”
He gave me tips on how to use the book and told me to do at least one exercise a day.
I sighed, glancing down at the garlands hanging from my arm. It was time to go.
“Salamat po, Kuya, for the book and for telling me about the scholarship.”
“Walang anuman.” He handed me a canvas bag with his Outreach Education on Wheels logo printed on both sides. “Here, you can have this bag to carry your book in. There are forms from St. Anne inside. I’ve filled out the recommendation form and signed it. Just have your mother fill out the permission forms before the test date.”
“Thanks again, Kuya.” I slipped the book and pencil inside and shouldered the bag. The everlasting daisies made a soft scratching noise on the canvas as they swung back and forth on my arm. A warm bubble of hope settled in my stomach.
I could go to school.
I didn’t want to think about it now but I couldn’t help myself.
My excitement made me walk faster. I would tell Mama about it as soon as she got better. And she will get better. No matter how many garlands I had to make and sell, I would do it. And maybe, when she was strong enough, she could meet Kuya Efren and he would help her find work again.
Visitors at the cemetery gates came in at a steady stream. The garlands sold out in just a couple of hours.
The secret pocket at my waist sagged with coins and bills. It was time to go home. I passed through the gate, counting out some of the change. One of the squatters had a little sari-sari store, where they sold some candy, snacks, and soda. I wanted to buy Mama her favorite orange drink as a surprise treat. One of the coins fell and rolled away into a bush just inside the gate. I ran after it, squeezing between rough branches and leaves. When I bent to pick up the stray coin I noticed a low bush with glossy leaves and small white flowers growing between two tombs. Sampaguita. Mama’s favorite jasmine blossom. I formed a little basket with the front end of my shirt and collected as much as it could hold.
I was cradling my harvest, trying to squeeze through the gap in the bushes, when I noticed a group of loud-mouthed men coming through the gate. It was the bowlegged one I recognized first. Tiger and his gang! I dropped into a squat behind the bush. Oh, please don’t let them see me. I kept my eyes squeezed shut as I muttered a quick prayer.
“Hey, boss! Where are we eating tonight?”
“Who do you think I am, your mother?”
It seemed like they were standing right next to me. I opened my eyes just a crack. I nearly gasped. Through the veil of bush leaves and branches, I saw Tiger crouched down tying the laces on a brand-new pair of sneakers. There was also a huge silver-and-black watch fastened to his wrist. Where did he get the money for new things?
A loud beep buzzed through the air. Tiger pulled a cell phone from his pocket and looked at it. He made a face, put the phone away, and continued tying his shoes.
“Looks like Mr. Santiago has a job for us tomorrow afternoon.”
“It’s about time! I’ve already run out of cash,” said one of his thugs standing nearby. “Hey, boss. Those are some nice ladies’ shoes.”
“You better shut your mouth. What do you know about it, huh, crab legs?” Tiger got up and moved out of sight. Whack!
“Aray!” The taunting and chuckling faded as they moved away.
Tiger had a new watch. But what had he done with Papa’s? Did he still have it? Would he give it back if I asked for it? It was crazy but possible. I mean, with his new watch, he wouldn’t want Papa’s old one anymore, would he? It made my insides twist at the thought of facing him again.
How could he take the watch from me and Mama, only to set it aside for something better? How did a cockroach like him get rewarded for doing bad things? It didn’t seem fair. I worked hard, and for what? A mother who gambled away our money faster than we could make it? I pushed the ugly thought away. My mother was all I had left in the world. The money in my pocket would buy food but not much else. Medicine was expensive. I wanted Papa’s watch back. I needed to have it back, but how?
My calves began to cramp. I was so caught up in my own thoughts I forgot that I was still squatting behind the bushes. After peeking through the leaves to make sure Tiger was gone, I stood. The heady scent of sampaguita engulfed me as I stretched. I must’ve crushed all the flowers I had collected while hiding. After a quick inspection, I found they were all good, the buds so fresh they popped back into the usual egg shape. I would make a necklace with them, hang it on my Santo Niño, and pray for a miracle. And I really needed one now.
On the way home, my anger still burned. What Tiger said about having a job to do tomorrow blazed in my mind. That meant he wasn’t going to be home.
I could steal the watch back. I couldn’t deny it was a crazy idea. A suicidal one, even. There were other possibilities to consider. I could swallow my pride and go to Aling Lydia again and ask if I could have the baking job so I could take Mama to the doctor. Maybe Kuya Efren could help me. Maybe Mama’s fever would go away and her wound would heal. Maybe she’d straighten things out with Mr. Santiago and get the money he owed her.
Maybe not.
Chapter Nineteen
Lola and Jojo came over the next day with more lagundi tea and a pot of lugaw. I had some dried salted fish, which we crumbled over the hot rice porridge.
Mama sat up and ate a few spoonfuls. She pushed the bowl back into my hands. “Enough. I have to lie down.”
“Give more of the tea, Nora. I’ll be right back.” Lola slurped up the last of her porridge, smacking her lips while she gathered the empty bowls. She shuffled out of the grave house to our water bucket to wash the dishes. Jojo followed to help.
I smoothed back Mama’s hair away from her creased forehead. She hadn’t slept well last night. We had run out of the te
a and medicines. I pressed the edge of the cup to Mama’s lips. She gulped down a few mouthfuls and then lay back onto the mat. The pinched expression on her face began to relax. I rolled down the sides of the kulambo, arranging the folds around her.
If only I had reached Tito Danny last night. Mang Rudy had been home for a while when I returned from selling garlands. It was embarrassing, but I swallowed my discomfort and asked to use his cell phone. I offered to pay for the minutes I would use, but he had refused. I dialed Tito Danny’s number, but there was no answer. I left a message, hoping the number was still correct.
Jojo came back with the basin of washed bowls and spoons. He nodded toward the bundles of everlasting-daisy garlands hanging from the grave house’s black iron posts. “Hey, are you planning to go out there and sell these things today? I bet if you give me one of those bundles, I could sell it all in just one hour.”
“There are over ten garlands in each bundle. It’s impossible to sell them all in one hour.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Jojo. The dimple in his cheek deepened.
“Yes, it is.” I couldn’t help but smile back at him. It was hard to argue with a boy who wore a sleeveless sky-blue shirt with the word BABY on the front in big pink letters.
Lola came shuffling back in at that moment, muttering to herself about useless grandsons. She sat next to me and leaned in close. “Since your mother is asleep, why don’t you go and sell your flowers. I will stay with her.”
“Thank you, Lola. I will.” I kissed her soft, papery cheek.
Before I could stand up, she grabbed my arm and said in a stage whisper, “And take my pesky grandson with you.”
Jojo tripped over my plant as we headed out the door. It nearly toppled to the ground. He patted the loosened dirt back down. I sighed, noticing how brown the leaves looked.
With each us of carrying a bundle of garlands, we walked to the main entrance of the cemetery, arguing over the best selling strategy. When we got there, Jojo positioned himself across the street from the gate. I stood on my usual spot just outside of it. Most of the time, I simply held out a garland to whoever passed by, hoping one of them would stop and buy one. An hour passed, and I had sold half of my flowers. I glanced across the street at Jojo. He was gone. He must’ve decided to move to another corner. Then I saw him walking through a throng of people empty-handed. He crossed the stream of traffic with a wide grin on his face.
“What happened? Where are the garlands?”
Jojo placed a wad of coins and bills into my open hand.
I stared at it in wonder. “How did you do that?”
“It was easy.” He grabbed the rest of my garlands. He folded one into a crown and placed it on his head. “Watch this.”
He walked into the throng, yelling, “EVER, EVERLASTING! EVER, EVERLASTING!”
I followed him through the crowds, taking payments and making change for people who bought garlands from us. In half an hour, we had sold all of them, even the one on top of Jojo’s head. We bought more aspirin and penicillin, along with some bread and cheese. I stopped to pick more sampaguita for my Santo Niño and then we headed home.
We saw Kuya Efren and his pushcart classroom parked on a street corner. I elbowed Jojo in the ribs.
“Do you like to read?”
“I would if I knew how.” He scratched his head, trying not to look me in the eye. “Well, the truth is, Lola taught me enough so I could read signs and stuff. I can read comics, but I’m slow. I just look at the pictures mostly. I’ve never read a book.”
I stopped walking. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I know someone who could teach you. Come on.”
I dragged Jojo to the pushcart classroom and introduced him to Kuya Efren. He gave Jojo a simple test to see how much he knew. Then he handed him a workbook with simple reading exercises. I volunteered to help him work through them. “Come to class with Nora. I hold class here three times a week. When you’ve answered all the questions, I’ll give you a math lesson.”
We waved goodbye and left. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jojo stare at the cover of the book with a frown.
I’d always wanted to ask him about what happened to his parents, and whether or not he had wanted to go to school, but I was too shy to ask. The bigger truth was, I was afraid that if I started asking him questions, he would start asking me about things I wasn’t ready to talk about. Like about my father and how we ended up living in the cemetery. But at this moment, I didn’t feel so afraid anymore. I already knew what had happened to his parents but the school part was still a mystery. “Can I ask you something?
Jojo glanced up from the book. He had been scrutinizing the cover page. “Sure.”
“Did you ever want to go to school? You never mention it. If Mama and I had the money for uniforms, books, and supplies, I’d go back to school in a heartbeat.” I gave him a sidelong glance. “I always wondered whether you ever did. I didn’t want to offend you by asking. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
He shrugged. “What makes you think I’d mind? I’ve got nothing to hide. You have to stop being so uptight, Nora.”
“What? Are you telling me I’m a snob? Do the other kids think so too?”
“No. Those are two different things. You’re just serious most of the time. That’s not the same as being a snob. Kids who live in the cemetery care and want the same things you do, but they’re like me. They live day to day. We are happy to be alive, to have something to eat and a place to sleep. We say, bahala na! Come what may! It will be too depressing otherwise. Maybe the other kids keep their distance because you remind them of what they should be thinking about.”
“Okay, so why do you hang around me? You don’t seem to mind my seriousness.” I nudged him. His eyes were still glued to the book and he almost tripped.
Jojo flipped to the next page. “You remind me of Teddy. He was serious like you. Always scheming for ways to make money. And you tell great stories.” He jabbed my arm with his elbow. “And to answer your question, I do want to go to school, but I have to be realistic. I’m all my grandmother has, and she relies on me to take care of her. She’s not as strong as she used to be. I actually did go to school when I was younger. Lola used to be a labandera, remember? That was when I was around seven years old. Anyway, she hurt her back and couldn’t work anymore. Then she got sick with dengue fever. I had to stop going to school. I did odd jobs for a while. I fetched water or helped paint tombs before All Saints’ Day. When Lola was better, I helped her roast corn outside the cemetery gates.”
Bahala na. Come what may. Live for the day.
He snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm. “Hey, are you serious about tutoring me?”
“Of course!”
“Are you going to be a strict teacher?”
“Absolutely. And you will be the best reader in the whole cemetery.”
Jojo stared at me wide-eyed, frowning.
I laughed and punched him in the arm.
He rubbed it, pretending he was in pain. Then he poked me back. “Hey, want to go see something neat?”
“Sure.” It wouldn’t hurt to take a little detour on the way home. I thought about Mama and Lola Mercy waiting for us with a guilty pang. “Is it far? Your grandmother might be getting tired and I want to give my mother this medicine.”
“Nah, it’s really close. It will only take a few minutes.” He nudged me again with his elbow. He grinned, his dark eyes glinting.
I sighed, grinning back. “Let’s go.”
We cut through a maze of tombs on our left and came out onto a smooth paved road. I had never been to this part of the cemetery before. It had clean, larger plots. Most of them had clipped grass growing around tombs of marble and a speckled stone Jojo called granite. There were also a few trees here. I didn’t see any mausoleums, but some of the graves had a roof built over them to keep visitors out of the sun and rain. We passed a man holding a handkerchief over his mouth while he watched a couple of
gravediggers. They were crouched in front of an open tomb, pulling out bones and laying them in a box. They would probably be placed back inside before the next burial.
Jojo made a right at the next corner. He opened a low gate and walked into a large grassy plot surrounded by a low brick wall. A cement path led to a marble platform at the center. On top of that stood a large pillar of stone. Inside it, encased in glass, was a metal container with a sculpted base, handles, and cover. It looked old and fancy. I’d never seen anything like it.
“What is this place?”
“It’s a grave.” He pointed to the marble platform. A name had been engraved there in large block letters and the years of birth and death.
“Oh, so he’s buried underneath. But what’s the pillar for? And that metal thing inside it?” I pointed to the glass enclosure.
Jojo pushed my hand down. “It’s not nice to point. The man is buried inside the urn. That’s the container behind the glass. He was burned to ashes. Neat, huh? It’s like becoming a piece of art when you die.”
I would’ve elbowed him for scolding me but I didn’t. All I could do was stare at the pillar and what lay inside it. The glass was greenish. A golden light shone above it, casting shadows on the designs carved into the urn. It was beautiful in a way that didn’t make you feel sad, the way looking at an ordinary tomb would. It seemed like a nice place to just sit and think.
“You’re right, it is like looking at art. Thanks for showing this to me. Maybe I’ll bring Mama here to see it.” I placed a few sampaguita flowers beneath the carved name on the platform, thinking about what a good and true friend Jojo had become. It was tempting to tell him about how I wanted to take back my father’s watch, how I had thought about sneaking into Tiger’s place to steal it. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t risk it. If there was one thing I knew about Jojo, it was how he felt about Tiger. He would stop me.
I tugged on his arm. “Come on. It’s time to go home.”
* * *
Jojo and his grandmother left after I insisted on sharing the bread and cheese with them. It was the least I could do. I offered to split the money with Jojo but he refused. I waved goodbye, promising Lola that I would let her know right away if Mama needed more of her special tea.
Everlasting Nora Page 13