The Redamancy of Shade and Art (BOOK 2)

Chapter 5

Art Mendoza was in love with performing. Their dance troupe's numbers suffered greatly from all their seniors graduating, and not a training day went by where Art didn't miss Ate Kay's warm and soft words.

But, well.

Hey.

They were Team Captain, now!

Putang ina, they were team captain! Their varsity jacket had CAPTAIN blared on the back to prove it!

Anyway, the opening of the new school year was boring as fuck. The school rules were droned into microphones and yelled into speakers. (Art fell asleep in the back of the auditorium during orientation.) (They also contemplated dyeing their hair neon yellow to spite Ms. Baston.)

It was a recall of last year's events, with an orientation and games in between. There were many varsities that opened fundraisers as well, and the dance troupe teamed up with the basketball team to sell food. (Art mostly sweet-talked their way through Angelo.)

Shay was still at the registration table on the first day of school, setting it up, bleary-eyed and sleepy. Apparently, he owed Sir Dominic something for a favor done three years ago. So, this was his long-term payment and punishment.

"You okay?" Art asked. They sat on the table in front of him, with their pink-sprayed hair and a full face of makeup. (Ah, the joy of performing. Being a faggot at school in the name of the dramatics.)

Shay rubbed his eyes. "Mkay," he hummed. He looked up at them and gave them a small, tender smile. "This looks familiar."

"Tell me about it."

"Name?"

Art grinned. "Art Mendoza."

"No way that's your name." Shay yawned, and Art laughed. They pushed back Shay's hair away from his eyes, smoothing it back his forehead.

"I like your hair when it's long," they commented. Art tucked his bangs behind his ear. "The mullet is cute."

Shay raised his eyebrows. He touched the back of his neck self-consciously. "I... really? I keep forgetting to get a haircut."

Art laughed. "It suits you." They pushed his hair back again as he closed his eyes and leaned into their hands.

"Mkay," Shay mumbled. "I'm never cutting it again."

Orientation week was packed with intermission numbers from the cheer team, from the school choir, from the spoken word poetry kids, and the dance troupe. Art was also very fucking proud that the dance troupe had the loudest cheers even when there were only seven of them, and they were introduced as the rising champions with their captain, Art Mendoza!

"DOZA, APAKAN MO AKO!" (("DOZA, STEP ON ME!")) Shay shouted in the crowd.

Art kicked the air for that.

It was lovely—more than pleasant—to feel like they belonged somewhere. It wasn't perfect, sure. There were still non-explicit school rules against homosexuality.

But. Well.

Kind didn't have to be perfect. And belongingness didn't mean flawlessness.

At the end of the week, another gathering of the student body for students to find extracurriculars. The teams all stood around the auditorium lobby to greet the stream of students after worship and orientation.

And, holy fuck, a lot of people submitted audition forms for the dance troupe! A lot! Art counted at least thirty-five, but they were so filled with excitement and joy that they had to let Ate Maria (a meticulous STEM student) redo the counting for them.