RAVAEL’S POV
“You got this, man!”
“D*mn, bro. More competition has come.”
“Does this mean I’ve no chance with her?”
“Yes, because you lack the balls to confess.”
“Ayiieee!”
“Who’s that guy?”
This lesson I’ve been reading is actually interesting. Self-studying isn’t that bad, but I still need to read ahead before the professor shows up for graded recitation. It’s kind of stressful putting this much pressure on myself for a general subject. If I get a low grade, my overall GPA’s gonna take a hit.
Grabbed my two sandwiches from my backpack. Didn’t have time to eat the rice I packed for lunch, so I bought two sandwiches at school instead. That way, I can read and eat at the same time
“Oops,” a boy mumbled.
My mouth was left open, staring at the sandwich that had fallen to the floor.
“My bad!” He bent his knees and grasped the sandwich. “It hasn't been 5 seconds yet, Rafael.” He handed it to me, grinning. I took the sandwich. “Hey!” He ran again and met with some of our classmates outside the classroom.
That boy ran to my left side and bumped into my left elbow, holding the sandwich I hadn’t even bitten into.
I blew the sandwich and took a bite. Back to reading…
“Yiieee!” A girl giggled.
“Now’s your chance.”
“Whooo!”
“Give it to her, give it to her.”
My eyebrows furrowed when the noise from them echoed down the corridor. I couldn't focus when things got this loud. Against my better judgment, I turned my head to see what was happening outside.
A bunch of students from our class and others had formed a big circle. In the middle stood a guy and a girl. The guy handed her a small pink bouquet and a pink stuffed bear. When she accepted them, everyone hollered and squealed. They’re way too loud for a school hallway. The commotion paused briefly as the girl slipped back into our classroom, while the guy walked off with a big smile, his group of friends trailing behind him.
The girl sat down in her designated seat, about three meters away from me. Almost immediately, three other girls crowded around her desk. I simply looked back down at my notes and tried to finish my business quietly.
“What a long hair you got there, girl!”
“Your face card is so lethal, it reached the boys from the other class.”
“Are you going to date him?”
The girl who’s being interrogated tucked the end of her side-swept bangs to her left ear. “I don’t even know who he was,” Shamikha answered shyly, the girl in the spotlight who caused the crowd and clamor.
The boy was Jonar, my classmate back in fifth grade. He's in the section right next to ours now. We used to be seatmates in elementary. The main thing that sticks with me is how insanely good he was at sewing during Home Economics. At first, I doubted whether he did it himself. I figured his mom must have been finishing the projects at home when we couldn't complete them in class. But it was proven wrong when I saw him stitch the fabric, right there in the classroom.
I tried to improve my own manual stitches because he motivated me without even trying, probably. He'd sew in straight, consistent lines, while mine always came out crooked and uneven. In the end, I just couldn't do it the way he did. He had a talent least expected from someone like him. It was kind of frustrating to watch, but I couldn't look away either.
One of the three girls near Shamikha gently pulled a stretchy cloth from her half-up top knot and started combing through her hair with her hands. I turned back to my reading.
“But I suppose he isn’t your type. You don’t suit each other.”
“Exactly! I can’t picture the two of you together. It doesn’t feel right.”
“He’s skinny, unremarkable, below average… Yeah, I don’t know him either.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Jonar”
“He’s good at math, though. His classmates often ask for his notes and to copy his reliable answers. He once joined a math contest but didn’t make it to the first elimination.”
“That’s not what we meant. Shamikha is a goddess, and he’s not. No matter how smart he could be, if he’s not at least good-looking, then it’s pointless.”
“I get it.”
I continued eating my sandwiches while listening to them.
“Come on…” Shamikha spoke. She touched Jonar’s gifts sitting on her armchair. “I don’t know him personally, but I can tell he’s a good person. He went out of his way to give these to me… I will turn him down with respect, but I truly appreciate his efforts.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“I will meet him later after class to settle things out formally.”
“Are you going to eat that?”
“We can share it. Here.” Shamikha shared her one chocolate cupcake with them. They had one bite each.
“I’ll give Jonar one point for that cupcake.”
Now I remember it, today is a love day. A day famous for giving gifts to their crush, boyfriend, or girlfriend. A time when many people confess their feelings and either get rejected or gain a new partner. That explains why many vendors were selling flowers, stuffed toys, and chocolates outside the school. and the school is surrounded by white, red, and pink decorations.
“So, who do you recommend for Shamikha, who is still single?”
The three of them, except Shamikha, gazed around the classroom.
“Aha! Gerald? He’s smart and handsome.”
“His attitude sucks. Remember when he told us to get lost after asking him a favor in the faculty room?”
“Yes! We asked politely, yet he shoved us away, hahaha!”
“The class’s vice president is funny and has good leadership. He’s cute and also popular with many girls.”
“He might seem almost a perfect guy, but did you know he asks someone to do his homework?”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, he asked the secretary many times because he has been busy during the intramurals. And it happens whenever his position calls for him.”
“So, his above-average grades are not from his own hard work? That’s not so responsible of him.”
“Fair point… How about Rafael?”
Hearing my name made me avoid gazing at them.
What came into Lyca’s brain to mention my name? Why me? I don’t exactly stand out in a group.
I swallowed the last bite of my second sandwich and drank water from my water bottle.
“Hmm… He’s silent most of the time, but I see him smiling and laughing with his friends. He does well with his studies. Look, he’s reading,” Frances commented.
“He’s neat, smells good, and attractive like Shamikha. A worthy candidate.”
“I agree,” Lyca affirmed.
“He doesn’t talk much with everyone, but that behavior adds more mystery to his vibes.”
“Do you have any idea if he’s single?”
“Nope. Don’t know much about his personal life.”
“He lacks the height, though.”
“True. You like tall guys, right?” she asked Shamikha.
“Well… Physical appearance is a bonus.”
“Yes or no?”
It took her longer to answer. “I do.”
“Tada! Finished braiding your long, silky hair.” Lyca grabbed a small, round, light pink, foldable, plastic with a small round mirror and foam inside, which girls put on their faces.
Shamikha opened it, looked at her face, and touched her intertwined hair. It is the kind of hairstyle that is largely popular with girls.
“It’s cute,” she commented, smiling.
A soft curve formed into my lips, not until her eyes spotted mine while she was staring at herself in the mirror.
S-She caught me looking at her!
What am I doing?
Now's not the time to eavesdrop on their conversation. I haven't even finished reviewing yet. I stuffed the plastic wrapper from my sandwiches and my water bottle back into my bag. After checking my watch, I forced myself to focus on reading again. There's barely any time left for me to review.
“I haven’t seen him with a girlfriend or a romantic interest. His social media doesn’t state his relationship status.”
“Bet he’s single.”
“With a face like that? He’s certainly taken, just in a secret relationship with someone-”
“Ma’am’s here!”
“Hurry!”
Our next professor entered the classroom on time. Everyone went back to their seats and prepared their pens and notebooks.
“Good afternoon, class. Prepare your ¼ sheet of paper and write your full name, then pass it forward,” the professor commanded.
After minutes of writing, we passed our papers. The professor randomly pulled one paper out for the graded recitation. Everyone is surely nervous.
And Ma’am… picked one
“Rafael, please stand.”
My stomach dropped the second she called my name. I got called first, which is both good and a bad thing.
Usually, my voice does this thing where it gets quieter halfway through a sentence, second-guessing itself. But this time? I stood up, and for once, my knees didn't feel like they were about to give out. Hands at my sides. No fidgeting.
She asked the question. It was something about the main argument in the reading. The answer was there, sitting in the front of my brain like it had been waiting for this exact moment.
I answered correctly. The professor nodded and didn’t say much or ask a follow-up question. I sat back down, and my heart started pounding afterward, which is backwards. This doesn't happen often. It felt good, I sighed. Got called first, and luckily, she asked something from the first ten pages. That's all I got read anyway, too busy listening to everyone else's conversations.
Hours later, the class ended.
“Hey, Rafael, someone’s calling for you.”
I didn’t bother turning my head to them while busy jotting down my notes. This is to make sure everything is written so as not to forget anything for tomorrow. I almost failed the grading recitation earlier.
“Rafael… Rafael!”
“What?” I glanced at him with a creased forehead.
“Someone’s calling you!”
“Ravael…” Someone pronounced my name correctly, with direct and clear emphasis on the letter V.
I looked at the person behind him.
“Excuse me, Ravael. Lyca asked me to return this pen she borrowed from you last month.”
Shamikha handed me my red gel pen, and I claimed it.
“Thanks,” I said plainly.
Half of my gel pen’s ink is gone. Thanks to her friend, Lyca, I checked some answer sheets with a black ballpen instead of red.
“Anything else you have to do with me?” She remained standing; she hadn’t left me yet.
Maybe she has more to say before meeting with Jonar and rejects him respectfully.
“You’re not mad about it, are you?” Her voice softened.
“Why would I be?”
“Lyca’s a bit clumsy. She forgot to return it to you the same day she borrowed it from you. Please forgive her actions.”
Lyca, the one who intertwined her hair into a braided bun. I learned a new term after searching online what her hairstyle is called.
“I no longer mind it because someone finally pronounced my name correctly,” I joked. I might sound uptight to her right now over trivial stuff like a gel pen.
“Who?”
“You”
She smiled lightly. “That one? Your name isn’t that complicated. Only one letter was changed compared to its usual spelling.”
“You’re right, but many people make that mistake.”
Even our professor and my close friends cannot pronounce it correctly and consistently. It’s not that they’re incapable of doing so; they prefer not to.
Only a few people had it right: my family, relatives, and her. However, most of them will resort to calling me Rafael instead because F is easier to pronounce than V.
“I’ve been calling you Ravael ever since the first day of class.”
I tried reminiscing about our interactions, whether she did call me Ravael, not Rafael…
“Angel Raphael,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
“Uhm, nothing”
“I recalled something about an angel named Raphael. When I was a kid, my theology teacher at church taught us about angels. And one of the angels was Raphael.”
We’ve been classmates for six months already, yet I only noticed now… When did her voice sound resonant, demure, and soothing? Her braided hair bun is alluring, as it resembles a halo.
The wind from the classroom window facing west blew her long, brown, wavy hair
An angel was talking with me.