THE 21ST ARTS FESTIVAL

Coming in second to the Valentines Week, the 21st Arts Festival for the Visual Arts, Music and the Performing Arts is the next busiest event in our school every year. It's a university-wide, two-weeks long event that run through the last week of July to the first week of August. It's a favorite event for the whos-who, the talenteds, and the aspirants - those aspiring to be talented or to be famous.

There are daily activities that serve the purpose of the event; our university's convention hall and multi-purpose halls serve as galleries for paintings, photos, and anything visual including naked college students. Our university theater is booked for two sets of plays; one week for a Filipino Play and one week for a Foreign/Western Play that run with several showings daily. A huge concert stage is built on the wide open ground of the college campus; it is where the opening night will commence on Sunday evening, as well as the finale concert on the last Saturday night; there are also daily mini concerts to be held that shows a variety of performances - modern dancing, folk arts, interpretative, and there are also band performances, as well as a singing contest. Guests and celebrities complete the event, there's even a TV station that covers it, and the college gives out a set of awards to showbiz actors, directors and the likes.

Our only relatively spacious high school campus ground is not empty as well. We have the mini version of everything. The entrance of the main building is blocked by a mini concert stage; we hold our prelimanary singing contest first and the top 9 finalist can compete on the main event. It's a perfect road to stardom because the champion will be the star of the finale concert and will be watched, according to Blue, by an estimate projection of 6,000 live audiences.

If Cece hasn't forced me to do this, I will not be in this terrible dilemma today. If she isn't so sweet and irrisistable, I would have been out there, in the audience, chill. Cece is the curse in my life that is caused by true love. Whyyy do we love our bestfriends?!

"You're gonna be amazing!" Cece cheerfully declares. I hate her sweet angel face right now.

I laugh with a hint of sarcasm. No world-reknown painter in history would be able to paint my face at this moment. Those brain dead, high school idiots are out there waiting to judge me.

Cece studies my look again for the 100th time, "I still can believe it. You look hot, Mecky! Where have you been all my life?" she says, awed.

I roll my eyes. I'm also quite bothered, the word 'hot' is not a normal reference you would hear from Cece. But sure, she's not three or five years old.

I look at my reflection in my phone, I think I should've fix my hair better. My hair is laying down empty and messy, like it's never been brushed. Of course, it's brushed. Beks Agustin, my other good friend, fixed my hair for me earlier and said it would look really hot on me if my hair is set like it hasn't been washed for three days. He added hair extensions so it creates a volume and make my hair look more.. unwashed. Why do I trust people I shouldn't trust? But fine, Beks also helped me with my look today.

I'm wearing a mint green satin V-line off-shoulder top with long angel sleeves, it's matched with a pair of green and white striped ruffled tie-front shorts, and - God, help me - I'm wearing a multi-colored boho style super high heel laced up ankle boots. I have boho style accessories, and my body is covered with body glitter spray. I kind of dig my look but I'm hating the rest of today's events.

"Why am I even here, Cece? I don't need to win a singing contest," I lash out, I am very anxious right now.

We are still on the right side of the stage waiting for my turn to prove that I am the next Mariah Carey, or Mariah Comedy if I trip in this freaking heels.

"It's not the need to win. Of course, I want you to win, but -- hey, it's an opportunity for you to show your talent. You have an amazing voice, Mecky. And we, as the rest of the world, deserves to hear it. You owe it us."

Oh, I love her optimism.

"I'm not exactly Mariah. I wouldn't come close to her toe nails."

Cece rolls her eyes - Cece rolled her eyes! - Fine, you are adorable, Cece!

"Yes, you're not Mariah. You're Mecky Elisabeth Herher. My hot bohemian -- err, american country girl. You'll be amazing!" She takes off something from the side of my left eye, a lash maybe.

"Geeez! That Lanie girl is singing Regine Velasquez!" I blurt out. And I'm next.

Cece scrunches up her face, "Lanie who?"

Seriously, doesn't anybody know Lanie?!

"That girl on the stage. She's singing Regine, the Asia's song bird? How am I gonna follow that?"

"Hey! Mecky, you can do this. Regine is so.. 90's. Your hot and modern. That Anie girl can song bird all she wants. We are a different animal."

I raise my brows, my face dulls. I often hear Cece hums to a Regine Velasquez song.

"Lanie, Cece. Her name is Lanie," I say dryly.

My eyes are almost bursting out as I hear Lanie hits all the insane notes on the music scale, and the crowd roars. She's singing Regine's popularised version of What Kind Of Fool I Am and she's gooood.

"What kind of fool am I, Cece? I can't do this. I'm next to that?"

I am not shaking, or sweating, or anything. But I'm dreadful. I just think this is stupid, that I put myself into this. I know I can sing, I was taught by a world-reknown music teacher in the US, because my dad wanted only the best for me. So that's who he hired to teach me music that began when I was five. I can play three instruments, I can write songs, I have a perfect pitch hearing, so yes, I can sing.

But I haven't performed in front of an audience since my ninth birthday. I do still at home now tho, for my mom and RJ, and sometimes, for Cece. We have a grand piano in our living room.

I try to think what my music teacher told me, maybe it'll give me some confidence now - one day, little Mecky, you are going to change the world of music. Your talent is immeasurable.

But I've never believed that! I wanted to be a mechanic and a rancher, not playing music. And I think my teacher was paid a massive amount of money to say I'm excellently awesome.

I am standing now, Cece holds both my hands; her face - Fine! - she looks like those adorable little girls in magazines that makes you want have a baby right away.

"Hey, Mecky, I'm telling you, you can do this. Err, to keep you relaxed, maybe, just imagine, I don't know... Blue? -- the color?"

Ah, yes, the color of my future wedding gown, Blue. I haven't talked to him since his promise of forever at the library. Ok, I'm exaggerating. But what's up with him? Has he forgotten we are meant to be?

"Why would I imagine Blue?" I deny.

But I'm already imagining him right now; he is so dashing and charming with his ridiculously hypnotic dimples.

"Hey, Mecky -- Wow.. It's not very surprising, but you look really good -- absolutely drop-dead perfect!"

My heart jumps. I wasn't imagining Blue, he is right in front of me.

"Right, Blue? Tell her that! She always sells herself short. She looks amazing, she doesn't believe me. Am I a person who lies, Blue?"

Oh, Cece, you are so cute. I love you.

"Oh, shut up, you two. This is not Ms. Universe."

Blue grins. Damn it! "Well, I say, you'd win that too." Then he wets his lips. Double damn it!

Seriously? Are these people even real? Honestly, rich people have fake personalities. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm an heiress to millions of dollars of fortune, if I ever get those back in my lifetime.

Cece is still holding my hands, I think she is the one who's nervous, her hands are cold, "Hey, Mecky, I'm being serious now, are you listening?"

I'm discombobulated.

"So you haven't been serious all this time?!"

She laughs cheeky, "I am! But.." she sighs, shakes her head and her eyes turn serious and sincere. "You know you can do this. You sing everyday. Only I hears it, but even I know you are really good. I can't even sing do-re-mi without sounding like a duck! These high school idiots, as you always referred, they're idiots! All the more reason not to worry about them. The important thing is your voice, and your love for music. It comes out of you naturally. And people will feel that. I know. I do. RJ do. Your mom. And especially, your dad. He's watching right now. I know that for sure. Because he wont let you fall in these heels. And you know that."

I calm. Like Blue would always say, Cece is Peace in all the chaos. One look at her and the war will end. I always think that Cece will play a very important role to end the future world war three, either she invents something genius or she'll just stand in the middle of a nuclear war and say stop.

It's my turn now. It's still the preliminary; nine will win today and will have a chance to take the bigger stage. I hope I don't make it. But no, I don't want to dissapoint Cece. So even if I'll go through another hell for the main event, I'll make it today, yes, I will win a spot. I'll give the top spot to that Lanie girl tho.

We were asked to prepare a four-minutes performance, I am singing Dibs by one of my favorite american country artists, Kelsea Ballerini. The original song is only three minutes long, so I'd have to improvise and adlib. Timing is part of the scoring. So, aside from the adlibs, I also brought my guitar, I'm playing through the first half of my performance, then all hell break lose.

"Can I give you a good luck hug too?" Blue asks after Cece hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe.

A kiss would be better, Blue, on the lips.

"Sure, thanks," we hug.

"Break a leg, Mecky."

The three of us turn our heads to a popstar looking girl. I know her, she's Marvie Magdangal, Beks' bestfriend. I didn't know she's singing too.

"Thanks, Marvie. You too. We can do this," I press a smile.

Cece does have an angel tongue. I walk out of the side stage, pass through a couple of hurdles because lines of cords are everywhere, I step up the skeleton metal stairs onto the stage without troubles with my heels. I say, I walked like a pro. Thanks dad! Now keep watching me. Let me get through this without my face on the gravelly ground.

We have a full live band. But I've instructed them of my piece, I gave them a demo yesterday of how they should sound. I can create music too on my computer. I start with my guitar, I smile to the audience, my heart starts floating. Suddenly, I am in my zone.

This is gonna be epic!

"This is for all the girls out there who knows what they want, and not afraid to make the first move. Let's call it Dibs." Then I start, the crowd roars.

"That - was - epic! I knew it! I knew it! Ahhh, Mecky!" Cece ecstatically exclaims.

I won, or more like, Cece won. She hugs me and cries like she won a million dollar too.

I am happy. I haven't felt this energy in a very long time. I'm pretty sure I saw my dad in the audience, which made this experience even better than perfect. He was smiling, handsome as he always was.

There are nine of us now, set to become the next university superstar. I placed second, they gave special awards to the top three; Marvie Magdangal bagged the top spot and she is 101% deserving, I bet she'd be the champion at the main event.

While I am happy with my place, I am appalled that Lanie lost to me, she's third. I mean, she exploded on stage and gave a death-defying performance of her lifetime. But I saw Mr. Anodao congratulating her earlier and was very proud. Lanie, however, seems to be more determined to eat the microphone next time as she looks at the final scoring.

Cece is being her usual clingy self now. Our hands are intertwined as we head to the library where we left our things. After RJ hugged me with all his might right after I came off the stage winning second place, he rushed to our library to wait for us. He's already very familiar with our campus, he'll be here soon too.

"You were so good. You were so relaxed. It's like your concert! The audience was having fun. You looked so much fun too. You were interacting with the band, nobody else did that. You, and that.. hottie badboy guitarist, connected so well. Although I think he was enjoying more looking at your legs and your boobs."

I am stunned, "Cece! Language!" she ignores.

"Congratulations Mecky! Your cool!" Zero Dantes, the hottie badboy guitarist as Cece described him, greets me as he comes out of the library and we are coming in.

I pride myself of being a keen observant, I know a lot of students in this school, not that they are my friends, but I'm good with faces and names, and a little something significant about them. Zero is in his last year of senior, for the second time. He was supposed to graduate last year, I don't know what happened. But I first met him in junior high, he made it to EMC2. He was a member, but only once did he attended our meetings.

"Thanks, Z. You are cool too. You made it easy for me."

"We should play sometime. And you have a knack for producing music. It'll be cool to learn something from you."

"I think that will be fun," I press a smile, then we bid our goodbyes.

"See, your famous already," Cece comments while we walk to where RJ is. I roll my eyes, like I care about being famous.

"Ate, what's the size of your library -- how many books -- why is your library bigger than ours? This is not fair." My google little brother throws the questions with all the seriousness in the world.

"Well, because we're supposed to be smarter than you. Don't worry, you can have this library all to yourself soon enough, nobody comes here," I answer.

But that is not completely true, there are also non-idiot high school students existing in this place. I'm just being mean, a little.

I sit in front of RJ who has a thick science book opened in front of him. Cece sits beside RJ, they are so much alike, my two little babies. They like each other too, a little too much, they can be annoying to watch.

"Congratulations, Mecky. You were exceptional on stage earlier. Brilliant, massively brilliant!" Teacher Kim pops out of nowhere.

Weirdly, Cece fidgets. While I know everyone fidgets in the presence of our trending ultimate hearthrob teacher, Cece, however, looks like she's eaten something slimy and she has this new thing with her hair. I've always known she has a secret crush on this god-forsaken God of Perfection. But lately, she's invisibly different, or at least I haven't figured it out yet. I always figure her out.

I shy, nerd Mecky is always shy, "Thanks sir. It was quite an experience."

Big apologies to his eminence, I don't fidget for him. Teacher Kim is always so prim and proper, so gentlemanly, almost aristocratic, and a little too chivalrous, like if he accidentaly touch your hand, he'd propose to marry you right away. He excites the bitches of the world, but he's.. boring. Blue is widely considered as his demi-god version, but Blue is not boring, there's a human side to him, a mysterious imperfection.

"Christopher -- oh, hi. Cece -- Mecky! Wow! Congratulations! You were.. different. Excellent performance, must I say," sir Albert follows.

I saw a glimpse of him on one of the shelves when we entered the library. Now, he's holding a book about Religion. I fidget. Suddenly, I'm the weird one.

Here's the opposite of Teacher Kim - sir Albert. Not ugly opposite, but the opposite of perfection. He's the perfect combination of genius and imperfection. He personifies that you won't be called a genius if you are not imperfect, or complicated, or an obvious contradiction of yourself.

Just like Cece, she's a genius, she's memorised every bone in our body, the names and functions of everything in the human anatomy. Yet, when Balong, in his natural perverted existence, say something about sex, cocks and pussies, Cece quiets and backs off, likes she's being burned into a cross. She's too pure for this world, how could she survive? Can't blame her on Balong that much tho, I honestly don't know why I keep up with that flat-out-straight-ass-dirty dickhead all these years. But since the immaculate Frey Uriella Cecilia Kim-Menendez have a touch on Archibald Dickinson, I guess there's hope.

I shy and press a smile, "Thanks sir Albert."

Since that encounter I had with sir Albert two fridays ago at uncle Bob's Irish Pub, my next encounters with him here at school became awkward. Like again, I'm glitching.

We had quite an adult conversation that night, or at least that's how I felt it was. We talked about the meaning of life and why people do what they do. He also opened up a bit when I shared a little something about my dad.

But it wasn't like Blue's dilemma. Sir Albert shared that the death of his father over three years ago was a life changing moment for him. He didn't elaborate, but I figured, although I am not sure if I am right, it was also some three years ago that the rumor of him not going home to his wife circulated. It was also about that time that his appearance changed, from being Teacher Kim's shadow to now a shadow of his lost self.

While Cece and Teacher Kim are exchanging awkward glances, I do too with sir Albert. He was also different that night at the pub. He was young.

"So, are today's teenagers like you? Less of a kid, almost an adult?" Drunk-scarlet-face sir Albert asked. He began to be in control of his whiskey consumption at this point. Smart.

I pressed a smile and laughed under my nose, "I think teenagers in any generation are the same. We don't know what we are."

"You seem to know who you are."

He rested his one elbow on the bar surface, his forearm up and the side of his cheek laid on his fist. I never notice - why would I ever? - but sir Albert got some pretty lips, it's soft, plump and pink.

I sniggered, "Nerd Mecky of high school to this? Believe me, I have an identity crisis as well. Like Mrs. Reklamor once told us in class before, you fail being a teenager if you know yourself too well. I haven't failed so far.. I think. I don't know myself too well."

He laughed. He had a handsome laugh, just like my da. "You certainly didn't fail spoofing Mrs. Reklamor. Is she that consistent?" Then we laughed together.

While wiping cold bottles' sweats on the bar surface, I asked him, "Have you eaten?"

He raised himself up and took a deep breath, "Ehh, no. I haven't. Yea.. I guess, I'm hungry now. What do you have?"

"What do you want?"

Our eyes, again, paused in the same direction - to each other's. It was weird, I can't point it out, but there was a gentle feeling in my chest. Ok, I sort of noticed, he was quite, a little bit, very good looking. His tousled hair with curly ends matched his appearance, like he's a carefree, neatly rugged, country guy. His few days growth of beard looked soft, and he's got dimples on his cheeks. I have a thing for dimples.

"I don't know.. Surprise me." His brows raised up, and again, I saw my father's eyes.

I curled my lips and shook my head, thinking, "Err. Pasta? Or --"

"Yes! Spaghetti. You have?" he asked, too cheerful for his sake. Whiskey.

"We have Linguini -- "

"No, no, no. Spaghetti, like Spaghetti." He was quite adorable too.

"We have spaghettini and meatballs."

He paused and grimaced, "Is that all you have?"

I straightened my face, "We have kiddie meals. Like, a kids spaghetti? Sweet and --"

He clapped, "That's it! That's spaghetti!"

I chuckled with humor crept up my face, "Ok. Kiddie spaghettie it is, coming right up."

I placed the order to our kitchen and I stared at him from afar. He wasn't sir Albert. He was just.. Albert. His expression, his posture, his voice. He wasn't gloomy, or that he's a lost caffeine addict. He was bright and pleasantly relaxed, like he just finished high school.

I gave his spaghetti order - sweet, tomato ketchup red, with hotdogs and grated ordinary supermarket cheese on top. I found it ironically funny. My dad loved, loved, loved filipino style spaghetti. He grew up in the US, despite being of pure Filipino descent. But when he tasted Mother Mercy's original recipe, filipino style spaghetti, daddy Ricky became obsessed. He would always say he could live eating only spaghetti for the rest of his life. That's how he fell in love with my mom, he said, because of her spaghetti.

"I'd live if it's the only food I have to eat for the rest of my life."

I heard my father's voice in sir Albert's words. I was dumbfounded.

"Why are you all glancing at each other so awkwardly? Is there something on my face?" RJ asks, it's like he broke the arctic glaciers. Him and his questions can definitely warm a room. All our awkward stares break up and we all look at the little boy, humored.

I smile cheesy, "Oh, sir Albert, Teacher Kim, this is my little brother, RJ."

His well proportioned angular face and his squeaky clean grade school uniform makes him adorably neat. I've always loved our school uniform, it's sleek and chic, and it's easy. I wasn't particularly thrilled that we didn't have to wear uniform as seniors. I now have trouble thinking of outfits every morning.

RJ looks up at the two sterling teachers, "Ate told me that you both should be my teacher. You're both geniuses."

I freak out a little at his blatant casualness, "RJ!" I snap under my breath.

"Well, if you read books as thick as that on the table, I don't think we'll have anything else to teach you," sir Albert humors the little kid.

And of course, as the little adult that he thinks he is, I know RJ is very serious about his earlier remark. "No sir. Learning is never ending. There will always be something I don't know," he says with serious conviction.

I look at sir Albert's reaction, he is amused. It is quite bothersome, however, that his eyes and RJ's have a distinct similarity.

"Does genius run in your family, Mecky?" Teacher Kim humorly asks.

I just smile and laugh under my nose. I don't know. My dad said he was an ordinary student, but he had a degree in Mechanical Engineering. And my mom didn't even finished her first year of college. Almost a year after her mother died, her father also died of a single heart-attack. Uncle Bob said, their Tatay Pren, short for Cepriano, was so heart broken about the death of their 'Nay Ellie, that's why despite being fairly healthy, he was taken by a single heart-attack.

But mother Mercy was naturally adept with numbers and accounting so she focused on helping the family business instead of pursuing college, they had a serious financial strain after the death of their parents. And there are thirteen of them as siblings.

So, I don't know where the genius comes from. I don't even think I'm a genius, RJ could be. Since we moved in the city, I buried myself in books so I don't miss so much of my life in the ranch. I'm as a bookworm as Cece, but Cece is a genius.

Shortly after some humorous little chat with RJ, both our teachers leave. Cece seems to finally return to her normal breathing pattern. My cute little brother returns his curious face to the book he's reading.

We are waiting for our car pickups to arrive; Cece, since the start of this school year, is picked up daily by either of his four brothers. She used to commute with public transport before, despite his family being incredibly rich, but Cece is simple that way. I don't know what's up with his brothers now that she can't travel on her own.

"Kuya Japo is here. I'll go ahead, Mecks."

Cece stands up. She kisses RJ on the forehead, as she always does, then she walks towards me. I stand up.

"Thanks ah. You're an angel today."

"No. Of course. You are amazing! Like I told you. And.. I'm sure your dad is very proud of you right now. And your mom. I am. And this.. little monster, surely is. He's been screaming like a mad kid from the audience. We're all proud of you."

Cece holds my hands, squeezes it and she smiles at me sincerely that I return as much. I'm almost tearing up.

"Ugh. We're so cheesy. Ok. Go now."

Cece and I are not, exactly, or at all, mellow-dramatic with each other. But today is special, she made me do something that I know I also love. RJ snorted and sniggered, nonetheless, at the mellow-drama special he just saw.

Then, I opt to waste my life checking twitter while we still wait for kuya Jojo. RJ returns the first book he was reading, got bored, I suppose, and comes back with a new book about History.

And then there he is, my picture-perfect-but-not-really-perfect Blue; he walks in to the library. He smiles when our eyes met, my heart flutters. He looks so radiant, his rich-kid-light-creamy skin suits so well to the elite grandeur of our library's interior design and it's serene lightings. Like I am now sitting at the Palace of Versailles, and the prince just came in.

"Mecky," he smiles, again, my heart flutters.

"Yes, your highness."

It came out faster than a bullet train. I see RJ's face grimaced. Then he looks up at the prince who is standing beside our table and he is not pleased at all. He thinks every good looking guy wants to be my boyfriend, and they are about to get a piece of him.

I pull myself back to reality, "Sorry. It was -- "

"I didn't realise, you are into prince charmings."

Oh, don't be so charming now!

"I'm not. I've never been to Disneyland. I was never interested. It was this, thing I scrolled through twitter," I lie, with some truth.

"Ok. If you say so."

I look at RJ and his face is about to feed Blue to a three-headed dragon, "Oh, by the way, this is my little brother, RJ."

"Hello, RJ," Blue tries to charm him, but the little monster jerks his head with an expression that questions Blue's life existence.

Blue gets it. He laughs under his wide, charming smile. He looks at me, "Tight security?"

"More like an army." We both laugh. RJ, of course, is not pleased at all.

"So, are you going to the pub?" Blue asks, "We gotta celebrate. Your performance was incredible, lit!"

I look at RJ asking for permission, but his face is as hard as a flat wall. Our original plan is to go home, he has his cartoon to catch.

I answer "yes" but keeping my eyes with RJ, "We are going to the pub," I tell him. Then I look up at Blue and I confirm with a pressed smile.

"Alright. Cool. We can drive there now. We'll take the Ferrari."

RJ, in a split of a second, turns his head to Blue, impressed. I think Blue, just earned a point.