When Mason and Raymond got far away from the boutique, they let out a relieved sigh. They'd made a detour as the boutique emergency exit led them to another street adjacent to the street on which they had come in.
Mason rummaged through the bag and brought out his former wear, checked the back pocket of his 'Blessed by Papa' pants, and took out the money he'd taken from Shoko earlier.
The slang 'blessed by Papa' was a popular adage in the town, used for referring to oversized belongings, ones, perhaps big enough to fit an elderly person. True, some of Mason's clothes are given to him by Mr. Robinson. Though the man and his wife sometimes bought him clothes, most of which are oversized.
"The advantage of being cute, isn't it?" Raymond said, staring at the money Mason was holding. He didn't know exactly how much it was, but he was sure it's not enough to buy the clothes Mason had acquired at the boutique.
"I know I shouldn't get used to this, but it's somehow comforting," Mason said. "I didn't pay earlier for the haircut either. Everything is going well, except the part of being swarmed like honey."
"You'd adapt, trust me, Mason," Raymond smiled. "Everything will be less difficult from here on if not too easy."
Mason nodded slowly, turning his face away from passersby who were starting to stare.
"Can we go home now?" he asked Raymond, who shrugged and began to walk in the direction of the bridge leading to the other side of the town where they lived.
Mason followed, making sure to avoid gazes often seemingly glued on him by passersby. As they walk home, they're bathed with the angry stare of sunlight. Mason had lost track of time during their activities in the salon and boutique but he was certain it was afternoon.
Soon, the clouds blot out the sun, and Mason could find himself instinctively praying for rain. As they were almost near the bridge, Mason realized he couldn't go home with everything he'd purchased without buying something for his sister, Nana.
"Can you buy me something, Raymond?" he implored. "I can't risk having those high school girls running after me."
Raymond followed his gaze until his eyes landed on the Candy shop opposite the bridge, filled with students who were just returning home from school.
"Oh, candies for Nana?" Raymond exclaimed, "She'd spend weeks thanking you for one candy bar. How many do you want me to buy?"
"As many as possible. Something she'd spend months eating."
Raymond raised an eyebrow.
"You'd better open a shop beside her father's," he teased.
Mason laughed, then his face turned serious again. "My time at the Robinsons is coming to an end. I need to leave before I'm reminded," he replied, turning his gaze to the distance.
Raymond nodded. He knew Mr. Robinson didn't like Mason much, but he'd tried raising him to an adult. And as a result, Mason has paid him back with a house; he needn't overstay his visit, especially when he's keeping his buying of the house a secret.
"So you're leaving soon, I guess," he said. It wasn't a question, yet his eyes were probing.
"It may be sooner than you think, Raymond. If you don't see me again, just know I'm gone."
"Don't you dare! You must inform me the day before. Okay?"
Mason turned to face him, a small smile on his lips. But Raymond knew there was another emotion underneath that facade.
"I'll try," said Mason finally. He handed over all the money in his hand. "Now go, the sun is burning."
Raymond smiled and went off, falling in line with the students, waiting for his turn.
The sun pierced the shades of the clouds, breaking free from the momentary interception. Mason raised his free arm to shield his eyes against the glare of the sun. But that wouldn't work. He glanced ahead toward the bridge, and a smile came to his lips.
On the left side of the bridge stood a large old tree that seemed to pierce the sky, offering shade to a small part of the bridge. Though tiny rays of sunshine plunged through the tree's branches and scattered on the ground under the tree, it still offered more shade than most trees.
Mason's long stride quickly took him there, and he rested against the bridge's warm railings. He raised his head to the sky, now blocked by the large tree, and closed his eyes to enjoy the fresh breeze.
Damn! No air is as fresh as the one blowing under the tree, Mason thought to himself. He opened his eyes and turned to face below the bridge, the same place he'd normally stare at to see his reflection.
It was a ravine that ran across the town, separating it into two. The ravine has dried up due to a few days of no rain, and inside it was a small amount of water, trapped in a hole and unable to flow away. People often referred to it as a pond, and small children often went there to play and swim.
The pond was dirty now, and Mason was unable to see his reflection as he'd usually do. Not long after, he heard an indistinct conversation. Many people had passed across the bridge ever since he stood under the shade, none of which had concerned him. But something about the voices he was hearing now stirred up a sense of familiarity within him.
He quickly turned around to verify, and the sight he beheld made Mason's neck flush. His stomach cringed at his nervousness, and he could feel snakes crawling up his throat. His feet seemed glued to the ground, and he struggled against his hand to grab his bag lying on the ground and run away. It was a futile attempt.
The group finally emerged, their presence alone made the beads of sweat on Mason's forehead break and snake down his face. He thought he'd gotten rid of them for the day, but now he was seeing them again. Nana had stood up for him the previous day, but now he must stand up for himself, that's even if he has the courage.
"Hi," Malia was the first to speak, her eyes widening as if she'd seen her favorite artist. "How did such a beauty end up in our town?"
Mason opened his mouth to speak, but the lump he felt in his throat wouldn't allow him. He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the nervousness that'd threatened to engulf him.
He scrutinized the faces of the girls; this wasn't their usual mocking look. They seemed curious and surprised. Perhaps, a testament to his new look.
A smile escaped Mason's inner lips, It's time you all feel how I felt, he thought. Slowly, his fear began to recede. Now, overcome by courage he'd never felt in front of them before, he decided to show off a bit.
"Well, I'm no stranger in this town," he replied, and the girls' eyes widened further. "I've been in this town for almost my entire life."
"Really!?" one of the girls, whom Mason knew as Beth, exclaimed.
"Oh my God! He's so adorable, I feel like throwing myself at him!" Mason could hear one of the girls muttering. That must be Dolores.
"I like him already. He must be a celebrity!" another said.
"How come we've never seen you before?" asked the third.
"Should I say… Disguised?" Mason said. "I've been disguising myself to find a lover, but sadly, I was rejected."
"And who's that dumbass?" the girls chorused. "She didn't deserve it! Ca–"
"Mason!" a voice echoed across the bridge, severing their conversation for a long while. Everyone turned toward the direction the voice came from and saw Raymond fast approaching.
Dammit, Raymond! You should've waited a little while, Mason's inner mind screamed.
Raymond finally arrived, breathing heavily. "I thought you left already when I couldn't see you again," he said through a ragged breath. His attention was drawn to the group of girls staring at him. "Hi, ladies!"
"Are you really… the Mason we know?" Beth asked in disbelief as she peered at him.
"He doesn't look like him," another girl said.
"Perhaps because I haven't had a haircut the last time we met," Mason said and turned to Malia, who was still dumbfounded. "See you later, Malia." He smiled, grabbed his bag, and walked past the girls, followed by Raymond, who was holding a carton of candy in his hand.
Malia turned around and watched Mason and Raymond disappear beyond the bridge.
"Can you believe that, Malia?" Dolores quipped. "That he's the same Mason you'd rejected?"
"Only one way to find out," Malia replied, her eyes never leaving the end of the bridge, as if expecting to see the guys again.
"What are you suggesting, Malia?"
"What does your sixth sense tell you?"
"You want to stalk him?"
"No dumbass! She wants to confirm if that cutie is Mason."
"And how do we–"
"We follow him to his house, slow-witted."
Before they could react, Malia bolted off, her heels thudding on the wooden bridge. The others followed, their footsteps a combination of thuds and clatters.