"We're going to the beach! We're going to the beach!" George's batch mates chanted.
Today, St. Timothy High School's latest honor section batch was out on the road. By invitation, they are heading to a beach resort owned by Maxwell Roblez's family. Maxwell, or Max, as his classmates call him, arranged for the trip this weekend, calling everyone he could contact. The Roblezes provided everything, from transportation to accommodation.
About an hour passed since they started the trip. By this time, everyone else was asleep, except for the driver, George, and his seatmate, Amy. Emma was three seats in front of them, just behind the driver. George, who's nearer to the window, watched the passing scenery. Meanwhile, Amy was listening to songs from her Mp3. Though facing the window, George noticed that Amy kept on glancing at him, as proved by occasional shift of clothes.
"Something wrong? George suddenly asked, startling Amy. "You could on looking my way."
"Nothing really, just -" Amy trailed on. She stood up and checked her surroundings before going on. "I was just wondering if you and Emma are, er, dating."
"Oh come on," George said, facing Amy. "That's an old issue already. You should know the answer by now."
"Perhaps," Amy replied. "But that was High School. I'm talking about College."
"Okay, I can answer your question in two ways," he returned, facing in front. "Let's try the simpler one: NO."
"Oh, come on! Can you give a bit more details?"
"Alright, but before that, why are you asking me this?" George queried, turning to her.
"Simple," Amy replied with obvious haste. "The whole batch, literally, is wondering at the same thing. The boys are still clinging to that minute hope of 'owning' Emma, and girls are dreaming to have you."
"Yeah, right…," George trailed off, rolling his eyes.
"Face it, George. With all honesty, you really have good looks. You're just extremely aloof most of the time, though. So tell me: Are you and Emma dating? I just want to be the first to be the first to hear the confirmation."
"Actually…"
George's words, much to Amy's frustration, were cut off by somebody's yawning. George chuckled.
"Let's just continue this at the beach, okay?" he said. "Now, you must rest. Lean on me if you want to."
Amy, after fighting the drowsiness for quite some time, finally slept as George suggested. She found herself at the same position when she woke up.
"You haven't slept?" Amy groggily asked, sitting up and massaging her neck.
George shook his head. "Nope," he said, watching the bus overtake a white SUV. "Oh yeah, good you woke up. We're almost there."
It was almost midday when the transit pulled over at the resort's parking space. The student's quickly unloaded their stuff from the bus. Upon seeing them, Maxwell jogged to meet and help them. He was of medium height, with evenly toned and tanned body and an ever-smiling face. His once school regulated black hair is now tied to a ponytail. Max, as his friends call him, led them to their cottages and gave them a quick tour. Fifteen minutes later, the girls were preparing lunch after the boys finished setting up the kitchen area. Most of the boys were already swimming. Max, George, and three more stayed.
"Hey girls!" Maxwell called out. "Wanna have a cooking contest?" This was met by a chorus of affirmation. "Well then, choose five front-liners. I'll invite some people from the neighboring cottages. No biases, promise."
The girls chose Emma and Amy, along with fellow batchmates Linda Castro, Khristine Li, and Liza Foken. As the others set up the equipment, Maxwell called the neighbors to be judges.
Returning with three judges and their companions, Maxwell announced. "All set? Alright, it's 12:30. The cook-out will end at 1:30. The ingredients we can only use are the ones we brought. Clear? Start!"
George carefully watched the girls collect their ingredients. Then he called his teammates: Maxwell, John Ray Udan, Donald Selpon and Zerick Archer.
"Based on what they're picking up," George said, while heating the pan. "The girls are going to make sweet and sour fish fillet."
"What do we cook then?" John Ray asked.
"How about a simple dish, like fried rice?" Zerick suggested. "Then add some seafood toppings."
"That's a great idea!" Maxwell seconded.
"Is everyone up to that?" George asked. General nodding followed. "Okay, let's do this!"
"Wait!" Donald interjected. "Something's fishy with the girls' lineup."
He continued talking after receiving curious looks. "The girls pitted us with our High School pairs and –or girlfriends. We better watch out for some trick or distraction of sorts."
"Any idea how the distraction will come?" Maxwell asked.
George grinned, looking at Emma. "With Emma's diabolical mind? You'll see."
Thirty minutes later, George's prediction started. The girl's came in one by one. The "distraction" commenced with Khristine who, by Emma's signal, approached her boyfriend Maxwell and began massaging him. The others, except for Emma, went to their "pairs" and started to distract them in various ways. The boys tried to put on deadpan faces but failed, smirk and grin slowly showing on their faces. All the while, the audience was getting more numerous by the minute. They were becoming nosier with jeers and cheers. Liza, Khristine, Linda and Amy continued distracting their pair for quite some time when Emma, discovering her lack of assistance, recalled her teammates. Fifteen minutes left. Fortunately for the girls' team, they managed to finish their dish just in time. The judges, after tasting and some discussion, unanimously decided to announce a tie. Both teams didn't mind the results.
The batchmates spent the afternoon with a program, showcasing an impromptu quiz show, some singing and dancing, and a lot of games. Afterwards, swimming ensued.
Night came. After dinner, some already slept, while others played board and card games. Some of the girls were in a spot on the shore, giggling and wide-eyed while hearing each other's stories and rumors. By one in the morning, most of the people were asleep. Emma decided to tell George what happened last night while they walk along the beachside. Just as Emma was about to start her story, Amy appeared to tag along. The beach was bathed by the full moon's light. Everything was brightly illuminated.
While walking, Amy nudged George. "How'd you know about our plan at the cook-out?" She demanded. "Did you eavesdrop on us or something?"
"Of course not." George replied. "It was quite obvious after Don pointed out your line-up."
"Typical of you, George," Emma said. "I was too obvious, but we went with it anyway. In mean, it's was more fun that way, right?"
"I thought so," George agreed.
Little by little, the surrounding grew redder. The chilly wind made Emma shiver a little. "Wait here," she said. "I'll go get my jacket."
With that, Emma headed back to the cottage area. Amy and George watched Emma jog away. When Emma was out of sight, Amy turned to George.
"So, let's continue our talk," she said, looked expectantly at George. "Are you and Emma dating?"
"Nope," George replied nonchalantly. "Simple as that."
In the background was the sound of a passing vehicle, drowned by the waves after a few seconds.
"Yeah right," Amy fired back with unbelief. "And pigs can fly. Prove it."
"Why should I carry the burden of proof?" George was incredulous. "You're the one drawing assumptions. Ask Emma."
"Fine!" Amy sighed.
Five minutes passed. Then ten more. The pair decided to meet up with Emma at the cottage area. As they walked, George and Amy chatted about other matters. Things were normal until they reached an area where the national road was near the shoreline. George saw something familiar near the asphalt. It was one of Emma's sandals.