Yes, this is definitely the most exhausting thing I've ever done—going back to school. I can't understand how my past self thought it would be easy.
I'd rather go back to that dirty labor job a thousand times than study. I don't remember—was I happy when I dropped out of school to support Maria? No, I'm sure I wasn't happy then either, and I wanted to go back to studying.
So it seems I'm never satisfied with anything. I really am a miserable.
Whatever. I complain, but I also just go with the flow of life. I'm the kind of person who'll do anything for family—in this case, the little brat currently devouring what was supposed to be my portion of the leftovers Lucia gave us from her cooking class.
I know it's from her cooking class because it always has some extravagant name from a Middle Eastern country, combined with a Spanish cooking technique or French fermentation, glazed with some Nicaraguan method or whatever. Too many foreign names—I'm not even sure if what I just said makes sense. Maybe it's a little disrespectful. Better forget it.
"So, you're going back to school? Aren't you a little old for that?" Lucia asked.
"It's like a job. I'm just supporting my sister. Otherwise, I doubt she'd be able to finish her studies."
"Well, I guess that's better. After all, you never finished high school. I was really sad when you left."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"What?"
We both stared at each other, confused.
"You don't remember? In high school?"
Truthfully, I had no idea what she was talking about.
"In high school… I was in your class."
"What? I met you when I worked for your dad."
Yeah, when they were adding another floor to their house, they brought me in to help.
"Oh… so you really don't remember. Well, never mind." There was a slight tinge of sadness in her voice.
I was about to say I did remember her, that it was just a joke—but in my experience, either my lies are way too obvious, or Maria is just too good at spotting them.
"Uh… sorry. Back then, I was really distracted. I had no time for anything—I had to work right after class."
Exactly. After school, I had to work until nightfall.
Actually, this clears up a question I've had ever since I met Lucia—why was she so nice to me?
"But we were in middle school together too."
I was speechless.
"Alright, you more than anyone know the other part is true, but honestly, I never paid much attention to my classmates."
"Well, I won't judge. I know you've had a hard life. Anyway, take this." She placed a bowl of Spanish paella in my hands and left.
Her tone hid it, but anyone with even a shred of empathy could tell she was upset.
"She didn't even ask how my first day went."
"You're such an idiot, bro."
It was already night, and through the window, I watched her walk back into her house across the street. Hers was livelier than ours—after all, she shared it with several relatives, as is tradition in this district. Extended families still stick together here—just not for us.
Lucia was a little tall for a girl, almost my height. I hadn't mentioned it before, but she had lightly tanned skin and cuts on her hands. She once told me that real culinary experts were missing a finger and not to be surprised if one day she showed up without a thumb. Her hair was jet-black, like a starry night, tied in a ponytail, with delicate features—more like something out of an urban legend than a TV commercial.
Forget about her. I'll apologize tomorrow. I'm scared of making her angry—we kind of depend on her for decent meals.
Like I said, it was already night.
We got home around 5, exhausted after a hectic trip on public transport. Then we had a lavish dinner, thanks to Lucia.
"How was your first day?"
I thought she'd say it wasn't a big deal, but she surprised me.
"I really liked it! I heard so many beautiful sounds I'd never heard before."
The kind of music you wouldn't find unless you dug deep into the darkest corners of the internet or the most elite conservatory circles. She was talking about obscure music from unknown composers, with ideas so abstract yet revelatory—art that was new, or at least recent. Even with my untrained ear, I could tell that the school was full of people who shared Maria's creativity, evident in the sheer amount of sounds floating in the air—not metaphorically, but literally.
Actually, maybe it was a little metaphorical. I mean the people—like that Abantino girl.
"I also really liked Emilia," Maria said. "She seemed really nice, and her voice was beautiful."
"What about Ana Abantino?"
"Her? Her voice is ugly."
Her words left me thinking.
"You're saying she has no talent? Don't get arrogant, Maria."
"No, I'm not saying that. I just don't like her voice."
"Even though you've never heard her sing."
We kept devouring the paella while she kept telling me everything she liked about the school.
I couldn't help but feel a little moved—seeing my sister finally excited about moving forward with her life after shutting herself in her room for so long.
"Hey… brother, thank you. Without you, I wouldn't have had the courage to go."
And it also reminded me of the long road ahead before she could be even minimally independent. Until then, as family, it was my duty to guide her until she could walk on her own.
I patted her head and sent her to bed.
Once I was sure she was asleep—about half an hour after she dozed off mid-sentence, rambling about incomprehensible ideas for melodies piling up in her brain in a language I'd never understand—the exhaustion finally took her.
I think of her as my sister, but sometimes, it feels like she's my daughter. Either way, I'm a failure of a father.
I changed out of my house clothes and into something more suitable for the night. It was almost 11, and Maria had to wake up at 6:30. While she slept, I was going out—not too far, not too close, but a place I liked to visit sometimes.
I opened my phone and checked the conversation I'd had with that man:
[Prince Stev][8:20] So now that you know I'm a billionaire, you won't talk to me? Some friend you are.
[Luvnb][8:20] Don't be stupid. You know how weird it felt seeing you standing there acting all superior? It was kinda embarrassing.
[Prince Stev][8:20] Hey, I was a little scared to talk to you too.
[Luvnb][8:21] You were with, like, three gorillas.
[Prince Stev][8:21] Anyway, how was your first day?
[Luvnb][8:21] Nothing special for me, but Maria seemed to really like it.
[Prince Stev][8:21] Good. She's the main goal, after all. I don't care much about you.
[Luvnb][8:21] And then you say I'm the bad friend?
[Luvnb][8:21] Whatever. Sorry. I had no idea how to act.
[Prince Stev][8:21] Then apologize for all the times I told you I had money and you never believed me.
[Luvnb][8:21] I apologize, oh great Lord Villarán.
[Luvnb][8:22] I wanted to ask—what's the deal with the money?
[Prince Stev][8:22] Well, in the next few days, we'll send you the first sum. Around 200 US dollars.
[Luvnb][8:22] You know I can't make it to the end of the month with that, right? You want me dead? One of the conditions was deactivating the VILCA channel to enroll in the school.
[Prince Stev][8:23] You think I don't know that? But that's the starting amount for all scholarship students.
[Luvnb][8:23] So it's possible to get more?
[Prince Stev][8:23] Of course. But it depends on her artistic performance.
[Luvnb][8:24] Meaning she has to get good grades on exams?
[Prince Stev][8:24] The written exams for basic courses don't matter much. I'm talking about the special exams.
[Luvnb][8:24] Special?
[Prince Stev][8:25] This school is different. So is its way of evaluating. You'll see. It wouldn't be fair if I gave you more info than the others.
[Prince Stev][8:25] I'll block you until the special exam happens. Until then—
[Luvnb][8:25] Hey, wait—
[Luvnb][8:25] Dude, that's not necessary—
[Luvnb][8:25] Go to hell.
[User "Prince Stev" has blocked you.]
Right now, I was in trouble. With the equivalent of 250 dollars and no income from VILCA, surviving would be hard. Our only hope was passing that damn special exam.
In the meantime, I headed for the door. I needed to go somewhere—a little risky, so I couldn't bring Maria. I had to go alone.