[Reminder: The names of characters, settings, and places are purely fictional. Familiar locations are used only to endear the characters to the hearts of the readers. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental.]
My classmates love to poke fun at me for just about everything – my clothes, my accent, my looks, and especially my skin color. Seriously, what were my parents thinking enrolling me here? I was perfectly happy in the province! But they insisted that if I wanted to reach my dreams, I had to come to Manila where the schools are top-notch for developing skills and talents.
Every time I head to the cafeteria with Madeline and Gwen, my trusty sidekicks, the teasing starts all over again. It's like clockwork! Everyone here is from rich families, and here I am, the odd duck out. Back home, my parents are raising pigs and chickens and renting a piece of land to grow veggies like peppers, string beans, eggplants, okra, and bitter gourd. They can barely afford the tuition, but they pushed for it anyway. I'm staying with my aunt who runs a tiny sewing shop, stitching up pants and bags to make ends meet. She's my dad's sister, never had a family of her own, so she was thrilled to take me in.
I'm just a first-year high school student, and my classmates seem to have made a hobby out of messing with me daily. They say my uniform is too big and that I look like a rag doll. Some even call me a walking piece of charcoal. Keeping my cool can be a real challenge sometimes. But thank goodness for my awesome friends who always have my back and stand up to these jokers.
The reason my uniforms are so loose is because they need to last until grade 10. My parents could buy me new stuff, but I'm just really stingy when it comes to myself. I'm like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter! I hate spending money because I know how tight things are back home in the province. My life here is pretty comfy, while they're struggling to even buy food. Sometimes, I get a bit mad at them for deciding to send me here.
Back in elementary school, I was already a volleyball prodigy. It was my jam! Our coach made us practice under the blazing sun, and I played in everything from district competitions to national games. We didn't win the championship, but I did catch the eye of some schools in Manila. Word got to my parents, and they worked their tails off to save up for my tuition. My whole year's tuition was paid by my parents because they had heard about my mad sports skills.
There wasn't any announcement about the volleyball tryouts because they had to wait until the first quarter ended and grades were out. No low grades allowed! But during PE class, they started noticing my potential. I could breeze through the 40-minute to 1-hour jog, which our MAPEH teacher recorded. They said I stood out in terms of stamina. Whenever our teacher praised me, it made my classmates even more jealous. "People from the mountains really do have different stamina," they'd say. In my head, I was like, "You guys are so big, yet you're so weak." The ones bullying me dreamed of being basketball stars but couldn't even jog without huffing and puffing. Some of my female classmates would give me the stink eye and say even nastier stuff. "She came here to snag a rich boyfriend. Are you that desperate to escape poverty?" they'd sneer. In my head, I was like, "Y'all need to chill. I'm here to spike volleyballs, not hearts!""
I pretended not to hear them, but I would sneak off to the washroom to cry. I didn't want them to see my tears because, let's be honest, they'd probably just tease me more. So, I told myself to keep fighting. My parents worked their butts off to pay my tuition, and it'd be pretty shallow of me to give up now. I wanted to report them to the teachers, but hey, I didn't want to look weak. Madeline and Gwen transformed into the classroom tattletales, eagerly reporting our super-pampered classmates' antics—they had even the audacity to roast me right in front of the teacher! A teacher once talked to us about it and basically said, "Sorry, we can't handle these kids because the school administration loves them too much." They might even turn the tables on the teachers! I told the teacher it was okay, like, "No biggie, I got this."
Academically, I was fine and kept up with the lessons without a hitch. My classmates were just really fluent in English, unlike me, who went to a public school and had an ethnic accent. I'm from Batangas, so my Tagalog has that "Ala eh" flair. They laughed at me for it, although some found it amusing. They called me "promdi" (from the province), which didn't bother me because, well, it's true. But when they kept doing it, it started to make me feel a bit inferior. They thought they were hot stuff because they were from Manila.
Then came the volleyball tryouts. We could wear whatever made us comfortable, so I rocked my old elementary school uniform. Instead of a school bag, I brought a sports bag that the Mayor gave us when we came back from the national games, along with some cash. The instructions were to bring our sports attire and change in the locker room, not to show up already wearing it. The tryouts spanned two days for different sports like basketball, volleyball, badminton, and taekwondo. The first day was for team sports like basketball and volleyball. And of course, my usual teasers were there, but this time, they were almost speechless. I had to wear my old uniform, which was pretty tight on me. They saw that even though I'm small, my thighs were quite muscular and evenly tanned. My jersey said Region 4A, with the number 9 and my last name, Macalalad. Haters gonna hate, as they say. They didn't want to accept that I was already a volleyball player who had competed at the national level. My ponytail made my face look brighter, the same face they mocked as 'Ondin' or 'Tiyanak' because it's small with relatively big eyes. My nose is okay, not pointy but with a bit of a snub. My mom looks like she has some Indian or 'Sepoy' ancestry from Rizal Province. I hadn't realized I was starting to get a woman's figure. I wore a sports bra, and my jersey and old spandex were snug. My antagonistic classmates wore t-shirts, shorts, or jogging pants.
Out of the blue, the volleyball team's trainer asked me if I'd ever played before. I casually replied, "Yeah, I played in elementary and even made it to the national games." Our coach clapped, and so did those who were impressed, except, of course, my lovely bashers.
In my mind, I was like, "You'll all be quiet once I start smashing!"