Every year, tens of thousands of graduating high school students troop to various testing centers across the country to take the UPCAT. There’s an average of two test centers per region. In Region 4-A, CALABARZON, the closest test center to Kate and her schoolmates is the Imus Pilot Elementary School, which is in the next city. Some CITS students, including Trish and Francine, already took the test as part of the morning and afternoon batches yesterday. As students typically do after a test, they compared answers online amid all the rants and crying-face emojis. On Fasebook, they also posted what they remembered of the most difficult questions that were asked yesterday. Although there was a low chance that Kate’s batch would get the same questions, they took note of all the hints anyway. One thing that Kate has really found lucky is the fact that she and Grace have the same test schedule. If they didn’t and because of the Lapuz family’s no-car situation, she wouldn’t know how to ta

“Annyeong,” Nathan introduces himself. “I’m Nathaniel Policarpio. Some people call me Nathan and others call me Nate. Personally, I’d prefer it if you call me Nate because Nathan reminds me of the time I spent in Camp Unplugged, the Internet addiction rehabilitation center that was on the news with, uh, Shadow and me. “Unlike my brother Shadow, who had Korean and Filipino blood, I’m 100% pure Filipino. Fun fact: I’m also the first real-life Filipino cyborg because of a microchip implanted in my brain stem that allows me to stand unassisted here in front of you. Um… yeah… I guess that’s it. It’s nice to meet you all!” Kate almost gets a heart attack when she sees Grace’s hand shoot up even though Mrs. Lim didn’t invite any questions. Grace is sitting in the third row next to Francine. The seat directly behind Francine is empty because she’s tall and would block the board for the average Hobbit. “Yes, Grace.” Rather comically, the raised hand is acknowledged by Nate instead of Mrs. Li

Female Everesters are tripping over each other to volunteer to run to the seminary clinic across Campus Drive. Not only because of the privilege of a hall pass (which btw is not a physical item in the Philippines) but because the girls have all romanticized Nate’s situation and are feeling like damsels-in-shining-armor. Finally, Andrea Joy “AJ” Gadon, a CC sister, is selected by Mr. Romero because she’s a track star who has competed in the regionals. She runs to the clinic, which is about 50 meters from the 12-Everest classroom, and returns in just a little over a minute without breaking a sweat. But since AJ can’t carry the nurse on her back, she comes back without her. As it turns out, the eagle-eyed principal, Principal Aguilar, saw AJ streaking back and forth across the thinning-grass-and-bald-spot grounds (kind of like Principal Aguilar’s own pate) and he decides to investigate. He climbs the stairs to the third floor, regretting that they never have enough budget for an elevat

“I just might take you up on that tutorial offer – er, as long as it’s free. I’d hate to be stuck in a lower section for all of high school.” “Sure it’s free. It’s the least I can do for what… you’ve done for me.” Kate cringed in the bathroom stall because of how cheesy the line came out. She heard Francine standing up and flushing the toilet, probably to remove all traces of her smoking. Interestingly enough, Kate never caught any smell of cigarette. She supposed it was probably because her mind had been hyper-focused on her predicament. The imagined fishy smell of her menses had been like a haze around her head but now that she had a way out, courtesy of Francine, she could stick her head above the haze and breathe again. When she was ready, Kate slid the barrel bolt open and stepped out. Francine was waiting for her in the vanity area. Kate, smiling sheepishly, tried to prevent any hint of surprise or judgment from crossing her face. She kept repeating to herself like a mantra:

Mr. Romero opens his trademark vintage briefcase and out of it he takes out… a small black box with six stubby antennas. It’s about the size of a smartphone but thicker. It looks like a very sleek voice recorder. It has only one switch on its side, red and indicating the on/off symbols. “What in the H-E-double hockey sticks is that thing?” Principal Aguilar asks. “It’s a cellphone and wi-fi jammer,” Nurse Judy answers instead of Mr. Romero and all Everesters intone in unison: Ohhh. “A what?” Principal Aguilar asks. “A jammer,” Nurse Judy explains, “blocks signals between a cell tower and all devices within a certain radius.” Turning to Mr. Romero, she asks: “What’s the range of that thing?” “It’s not that powerful,” Mr. Romero defends. “About eight, nine meters.” “Why the fudge do you have it?” Principal Aguilar thunders. “Turn it off right this instant!” The CC sisters wince every time the principal, an active member of their community, uses a faux-curse. The Catholic students