The Sun, The Moon, and Their Stars

07 : Blame

Benjamin

"Will they use the same format as last year?" my dad asks me. At the same time, our car turns right to the street of the school. We're talking about the tennis tournament that George and I entered.

"Yes, the same."

"How's your practice going?"

"You know how he is," I say with a chuckle, "still driven to discipline and precision."

My dad nods.

George is our next-door neighbor. Our families have been friends since before I was born. We practically grew up with him and his brother, who are also like big brothers to me and my sisters, especially to me. He's eight years my senior and the one who introduced me to tennis or sports in general. Our dads play leisurely at this small-city-scale lavish country club of an upper-middle-class gated subdivision on the outskirts of the city. And they'd bring us, kids, there when they can.

George and I joined their annual tennis tournament as a team last year, and we made it to the semis. This year, it will be held this late October—one week before my second grading periodical exams—and we aim to be as good as or better than last year.

If only our school is as committed to sports as they are with—wait, I don't even know what their specialty is, just that they boast of being an English-speaking school. Again, if only the school is committed to sports, then there's no doubt that I'll be active on the court.

There's a line of cars at the drop-off area, and it's surprisingly moving slowly this morning. I just bid my dad goodbye and head out to walk the rest of the way to the gate. It's not that far anyway. There's also a line of students forming at the entrance, which is weird.

Turns out, the security guards are doing extra measures this morning. They're individually checking the insides of each student's bag.

I see Kim lined up five persons ahead.

I open my backpack when it's my turn. The lady guard inspects it with her security guard stick, scanning through my notebooks and textbooks and stuff. Then she turns to the person behind me after she didn't see anything suspicious or peculiar. This is unusual. Normally, they just check our IDs, but not as scrutinized as this.

I zip my bag, look up, and see Kim turning right to the walkway that leads to the high school. I pace up to catch up with her.

But I stop when I'm almost five steps closer and blend in with the other students instead. I have no idea why I want to talk to her, or what I want to talk to her about. Last Friday was spontaneous. She just happened to be there where I was, and nice enough to ride with me at the Ferris wheel when my friends weren't around.

I don't know what it is, but there's something about her. Since the waltz, I can't help but notice and get curious. I didn't know her, and then she's suddenly everywhere. I'd see her almost everywhere around here since then, but there's no other explanation than coincidence. Still, there's something about—

"Kim!"

She stops and turns around. She seems shocked when I step forward and stand beside her. She blinks but doesn't say anything.

I scratch the back of my head while I mentally kick myself for starting what would be an embarrassing encounter.

"How's your weekend?" I ask.

"Uh...nothing...nothing special," she answers, still a bit confused that I'm talking to her.

She probably doesn't often get ambushed by small talks like this or talking to people at all. But why, though? I only see her around with one person, Lawrence, and he's—well, Lawrence.