Six years had passed in the blink of an eye. Now, I was in my final year of primary school, a step away from secondary school. If only I had been allowed to skip ahead when I was younger, I would have already been there by now. But as it was, I was eleven years old—a young flower on the cusp of blooming. My peers were changing too. The boys had grown taller, their voices deepening as they navigated the awkwardness of adolescence. The girls, on the other hand, had become more aware of their appearances, refining their femininity with every passing day. We were all becoming more self-conscious, more aware of the way we looked, and, of course, the opposite gender.
To be honest, I wasn't exactly thrilled about the growing attention directed at me. I had always been careful about how I presented myself—avoiding too many sweets, maintaining a balanced diet, and staying fit through sports. My academic performance had never been a problem, so I had the luxury of focusing more on other aspects of myself, like my appearance. As a result, I had become what some might call the "perfect package": intelligent, attractive, fit, and especially talented in music. To the boys, I was like sweet honey to a swarm of bees, and it didn't help that the girls my age seemed to resent me for it. According to them, I received all the boys' attention, which only fueled their jealousy.
But there was another obstacle that prevented the boys from approaching me as much: my teachers. It wasn't just their role as authority figures—it was the fact that some of them were my relatives. They were all too eager to remind me that falling in love too early would only distract me from my studies. My Aunt Perla, or Ma'am Pearl as she was known at school, often lectured me about it.
"Child," she would say, "I know you're smart, beautiful, and more mature than most at your age, but falling in love now is a distraction. You must study first, graduate, and only then can you think about relationships."
I would reply with a smile, "Aunt Perla, don't worry. Love isn't on my mind right now. I don't even see them as potential boyfriends."
Her sigh of relief was evident. "Then that's good," she would say.
Despite her words, I did have admirers. I had a crush on someone in my past life—someone who, at the time, seemed so far out of my reach. He was the son of one of the teachers, and Aunt Perla would often tease me about him. But after he moved to another school, I forgot about him. In hindsight, considering how he turned out, I realized that I was no longer interested. Not only was I focused on other things, but I wasn't ready to get involved in a relationship so soon anyway.
In truth, these crushes, admirers, and fleeting feelings seemed irrelevant to me. What mattered more was securing a better future for myself and my family. I was determined to make our lives better, and there was one opportunity I had in mind that might help us get there: the small-town lottery.
The lottery was a betting game where you picked two numbers between 1 and 38. If both numbers were drawn, you won—simple as that. The winnings were substantial: for every 5 pesos you bet, you would win 2,000 pesos if you selected the right pair. If both numbers were the same—say, 8 and 8—the prize doubled. There were three draws every day: morning, noon, and afternoon. If you won, you could claim your prize within the next 12 to 24 hours.
I'll never forget the time my mother won the lottery. It happened on my birthday, and the pair of numbers that came up was 8 and 8. It felt like a sign, a stroke of luck. The prize money was significant enough for us to make some life-changing decisions. I convinced my mother to bet a larger amount than she usually did, adding some of my own savings to the pile. With the winnings, we were able to purchase a plot of land, something we had long dreamed of. The land was cheap at the time, and it was enough to give us a solid foundation for the future.
Along with the savings from my academic competitions, I also secretly contributed some of my winnings from the lottery. The land we bought became the first step in transforming our lives. Now we had a place to call our own—a piece of land where we could build a house that suited our needs. My brother, too, was finally able to attend school without worrying about finances, as we had enough to support him.
Meanwhile, I continued my investments in stocks, not rushing to sell or buy any new shares. I had a strategy—one that would take 15 years to come to fruition. I knew that if I just waited, the returns would be worth the patience.
Then came the momentous day of my graduation from primary school. It wasn't a surprise when I was announced as the valedictorian of our class. I didn't have many friends, but I had certainly earned my fair share of medals from academic competitions. My achievements in school were the result of years of hard work and dedication, and it had paid off.
The next step was to decide where I would go to high school. There were plenty of offers, including spots at prestigious schools, but my mother had other plans. She was afraid to let me leave the province to attend a school in the city, worried that I would be alone in an unfamiliar place.
"I won't allow you to attend high school outside the province," she told me firmly. "I cannot accompany you, and I won't allow you to be alone in a city you don't know."
I tried to reason with her. "But Mom, I can manage. The schools in the city are much better, and they can teach me things that the local schools can't. Plus, they're prestigious."
But no matter what I said, my mother remained adamant. So, in the end, I had no choice but to decide between a private school and a public one. I chose the private school, partly because it was closer to home, and partly because it was the alma mater of all my family members.
This private school, though, held a special place in my past. It was the same school I attended in my previous life, and for me, that was both a blessing and a curse. I knew I would have to face some painful memories, especially when it came to the bullying I had endured. It didn't help that my unrequited love was also going to the same school.
High school was going to be a place of challenges, competitions, betrayals, fake friendships, and relationships that weren't as they seemed. I wasn't excited about what lay ahead. I felt both dread and reluctance about entering that new chapter of my life. But I had learned that no matter how difficult things might get, I could handle them. I had a plan for my future, and I wasn't going to let anything or anyone derail me from it.