JAY JAY POV
So, apparently, our grand "tropical departure" to the Philippines is happening next week. Next week! That gives me exactly seven days to decide which half of my closet deserves to see the sunlight and which half stays here to rot in the London fog.
I was heading to the storage room to hunt for my suitcases when I spotted a familiar figure hunched over in the hallway. It was Jare, and he was pressed suspiciously close to our parents' bedroom door.
I crept up behind him like a ninja. "What are you doing?" I whispered loudly into his ear.
Jare jumped about a foot into the air, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe. "Just... hearing stuff," he whispered back, his eyes darting around like he was in a spy movie.
I didn't even hesitate—I pinched his arm as hard as I could.
"OW! Why?!" Jare hissed, rubbing his arm and glaring at me.
"Because you're an idiot and you're eavesdropping!" I scolded him. Then, curiosity got the better of me, and I leaned in closer. "So... what's so interesting? Is it juicy?"
Jare's expression went blank. "You don't want to know."
I looked at him, my mind immediately going to the worst possible place. "Wait... are they... you know? Doing that?"
Jare froze for a second, his face twisting into a mask of pure horror. "EWWW! NO! Jay-Jay, get your head out of the gutter! Gross!" he whispered-yelled, looking like he wanted to bleach his brain.
"Then what is it?" I asked, feeling my heart beat a little faster.
"Mom is talking about the student exchange program and—" Jare started, but he didn't get to finish.
Suddenly, the handle of our parents' door turned with a sharp click.
Before I could even blink, Jare grabbed my hoodie and practically teleported me down the hall, dragging me into his room and slamming the door shut just as the hallway light spilled out from their room.
We both leaned against his door, panting like we'd just run a marathon.
"Okay, spill it," I demanded, crossing my arms. "What were they saying about the program? You looked like you saw a ghost."
Jare sat down on his bed, looking unusually serious. "They weren't just talking about the school, Jay-Jay. Mom sounded... worried. She said something about "past and real"
"Past and real?" I repeated, the words tasting like sour milk in my mouth. "What does that even mean? Is she talking about the history curriculum? Because I already told her I'm not great at dates and names."
Jare shook his head, his face pale. "No, Jay-Jay. She wasn't talking about textbooks. She sounded... scared. She said, 'If they find out the past is real, we'll lose them again.' And then Papa said something about 'her'—whoever 'she' is."
I felt a cold shiver crawl up my spine that had nothing to do with the London draft. "Lose us? We're just going for a semester! It's not like we're joining a cult or moving to Mars."
"I don't know, but the vibe was definitely not 'Happy Vacation' vibes," Jare muttered, kicking at a loose thread on his rug.
I let out a huff, trying to shake off the weirdness. "You probably just misheard them. You know how Mama gets dramatic when she hasn't had her afternoon tea. She probably meant we'll 'lose' our London accents or something."
Jare didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it. "Yeah... maybe."
"Anyway!" I stood up, clapping my hands to break the tension. "We have bigger problems. I have exactly sixty-eight pairs of shoes and only two suitcases. Mathematical impossibility, Jare. I need your luggage space."
"In your dreams, Princess," he retorted, though the serious glint in his eyes dimmed a little. "My hoodies take up at least seventy percent of my cargo weight."
I stuck my tongue out at him and marched out of his room.
The rest of the week was a total disaster zone. My room looked like a bubble wrap factory exploded in it, and the house was filled with the sound of Percy's high-pitched screeching. Apparently, using his fifty-pound "miracle" setting spray as a room freshener was a "hate crime against his complexion."
Honestly, he's so dramatic. It made the hallway smell like expensive roses and vanity—he should be thanking me.
While I was busy trying to shove my entire life into three suitcases, my phone was vibrating off the nightstand. The squad was in full-on chaos mode.
LITTLE SIX's
DAVE: Guys who's ready for the plane today 🛬🛫
SARAH: if you ask this question one more time I will throw you out of the Plane without a parachute.
MIA: yeah Dave seriously, you've asked us like 100 times already. Chill.
BEN: not hundred. 1,000. I'm counting. ME:
😂 lol dave everyone is teaming up on you. Give the guy a break, he's just excited for the airplane snacks!
DAVE: Thank you Jay-Jay! At least someone appreciates my enthusiasm. 🍟
JARE: I don't. Close the chat, I'm trying to pack my weights.
ME: You're bringing weights to the Philippines? Jare, we're going to study, not entering a bodybuilding competition! 🙄
I tossed my phone onto the bed and sighed. My "Little Six" were definitely ready, even if my luggage wasn't. I looked at the pile of clothes I still needed to fit.
"JAY-JAY! THE TAXI IS GOING TO BE HERE SOON! MOVE YOUR BUTT!" Mama yelled from downstairs.
"COMING!" I yelled back, sitting on my suitcase with all my might to get the zipper to close. Zip. Zip. SNAP.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I muttered, staring at the broken zipper.
I ended up having to use a belt to keep the suitcase shut—classy, I know—and dragged my things out to the hallway. Papa was waiting there, his arms crossed, looking at me with that same worried expression he'd had all week.
"Ready, Princess?" he asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I said, giving him a quick hug. "Don't worry, Papa. I'll keep Jare in line. And I'll stay away from trouble."
"It's not you I'm worried about, Jay-Jay," he whispered into my hair. "It's the trouble finding you."
I pulled back, confused, but before I could ask him to explain, Percy came strutting out of his room wearing oversized sunglasses and a silk robe.
"Farewell," Percy announced, waving a dramatic hand. "Try not to miss my face too much. I know it's going to be hard for the Philippines to handle a secondary beauty like Jay-Jay when they know someone like me exists in the world."
"Goodbye, Percy," I groaned, giving him a final, quick hug despite his ego.
Then Mama and Papa stepped toward us, their faces flickering between pride and that weird, lingering anxiety they'd had all week.
"Now look, we're letting you go to the Philippines, but don't go looking for trouble," Mama said, her voice dropping into that serious 'Nanay' tone that usually means business. "And if you ever feel like it's too much, or if you just want to come back, just call us. We will arrange the flight immediately."
She leaned in, kissing my forehead and pulling me into a hug that felt like she was trying to shield me from the world.
"I will be fine, Mother," I insisted, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
She pulled back and playfully flicked my forehead. "Be careful, both of you. And always, always take care of each other," she said, looking between me and Jare.
I nodded solemnly. Then Papa chimed in, crossing his arms. "Once Percy's check-up is finished, he'll be heading to the Philippines to join you," he added.
Percy rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Ugh, fine. But only because I miss the sunlight. London is doing terrible things to my tan."
We climbed into the car—Jare, Mama, Papa, and me. The drive to Heathrow was unusually quiet. Jare kept looking out the window, probably thinking about what he heard at the bedroom door. I just kept touching the little wooden box Papa had given me, hidden in the front pocket of my backpack.
I watched Percy for a second. There's so much about him I don't understand. He used to live in the Philippines permanently before he suddenly moved to London four years ago. It followed a really bad accident—one he never talks about. Back then, things were tense. He used to argue with Mama constantly; he was moody, dark, and wouldn't let her get anywhere near him for almost a month. It was like he was a completely different person.
When Jare and I finally found out we had an older brother and asked why they kept him a secret for so long, they didn't really explain much. They just said it was "for his own safety" and that "some memories are better left across the ocean."
It always felt like a piece of the puzzle was missing. Why was he hidden? Why the accident? And why was he so angry with Mama?
"Earth to Jay-Jay!" Jare nudged me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "The squad is already at the gate. If we don't move, Dave is going to eat our boarding passes out of pure stress."
"Right, right," I said, shaking off the heavy thoughts.
We grabbed our bags, gave our parents one last wave, and headed toward the jet bridge. As we walked away, I caught a glimpse of Percy. He wasn't smiling anymore. He was staring at the floor, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking less like a narcissist and more like someone who was genuinely afraid of what was waiting for us back home.
"Hey, Jare," I whispered as we handed our tickets to the flight attendant.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think Percy's accident had something to do with the Philippines?"
Jare paused, his eyes darkening for a split second. "I don't know, Jay-Jay. But if it did... we're probably about to find out."
We stepped onto the plane, found our seats, and buckled in. The engines roared to life, and I felt that familiar drop in my stomach.
[FLIGHT STATUS: EN ROUTE TO MANILA]
I pulled out my phone one last time before switching to airplane mode.
ME: We're in the air. ✈️
MIA: See you on the other side, Bestie!
DAVE: I FOUND THE SNACKS. THE ART OF THE DEAL. 🥨
SARAH: Shut up, Dave.
After what felt like 10,000 years—seriously, I think I aged a decade near the galley—we finally made it to the Philippines.
The heat hit us like a warm, soggy blanket the second the cabin doors opened. We stumbled through immigration and grabbed our mountain of luggage, looking like we'd just survived a shipwreck rather than a first-class flight.
"Wow, guys, I wonder why the airline gave us all different seats? Like, that was so annoying!" Sarah complained, rubbing her stiff neck as we walked toward the exit. We had been scattered across the plane like confetti.
I shrugged, adjusting my backpack. "Maybe they knew putting the six of us together in one row would be classified as a public disturbance."
"So... where do we live now?" Mia asked, looking around the crowded airport with wide eyes. "Is there a hotel? A dorm? A beach house with a personal chef?"
Jare let out a long, suffering sigh, stopping in his tracks to look at her. "Did you not even read the orientation papers, Mia? The ones that were sent to us"
Mia blinked, giving him a confused, innocent look that made her look like a lost puppy. She shook her head slowly. "Was I supposed to? I thought the pictures were enough."
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Oh, the chemistry between these two is something else. Jare is literally the "Smart, Serious Twin," and he has had a massive crush on Mia since we were twelve. But Mia? She is completely, 100% oblivious to it. She probably thinks his grumpy attitude is just a personality quirk and not a defense mechanism against her cuteness.
"We're staying in the HVIS International Residence," Jare explained, talking slowly as if he were explaining math to a toddler. "It's a private villa complex near the campus. Each of us has a suite."
"A villa?" Dave's ears perked up. "Does it have a kitchen? Because I need to start my 24-hour rotisserie chicken challenge as soon as possible."
"Forget the chicken, Dave," Ben said, already snapping photos of the colorful jeepneys passing by. "Look at the lighting here! It's incredible."
"Focus, guys!" I clapped my hands, trying to act like the leader I pretend to be. "We have a mission. Find the van, get to the villa, and try not to die from heatstroke before Monday."
The only problem? We couldn't find the official HVIS van anywhere. The airport was a madhouse of people shouting and waving signs, and after twenty minutes of sweating through my favorite traveling hoodie, I gave up. We flagged down two large white taxis instead and piled in.
"HVIS seems loaded. I mean, a private villa? That's next level," Dave said, leaning his head against the cool window once the AC finally kicked in.
"Still, our parents could have done better," Sarah huffed, fanning herself with a boarding pass.
Now, don't get me wrong—Sarah is what you'd call a classic brat. But she's my favorite kind of brat. She's only a nightmare to people who deserve it. If you're nice to her, she's an angel; if you're a bitch to her, well... may God have mercy on your soul because Sarah won't.
She's also what I like to call a "Canvas." While me and Mia are into the whole 'natural, "I woke up like this" (even though I didn't)' makeup look, Sarah is the Queen of Full Glam. Even after a thirteen-hour flight, her winged eyeliner could probably cut glass, and her skincare routine involves more steps than a flight of stairs.
"Sarah, it's a villa, not a hostel. Be grateful," Mia giggled, checking her reflection in her compact mirror.
"I'll be grateful when I'm submerged in a bathtub that doesn't share a wall with Dave's snoring," Sarah retorted, adjusting her designer shades as the taxi came to a screeching halt.
We all stepped out, ready to be wowed by some tropical paradise, but then we actually looked at the "Villa."
"Wait, wait, wait," Ben said, lowering his camera. He didn't even bother taking a photo, which is saying a lot. "Looking at this thing... I don't think 'Villa' is the right word."
"This isn't a villa. This is a... what do you call it?" Sarah's face twisted in pure disgust as she looked at the faded paint and the rusted gate.
"It's more like a school apartment," Mia added, trying to be optimistic, but even her voice lacked conviction.
I felt my eye twitch. The building was three stories of gray concrete, looking neglected and suspiciously damp. There were vines growing in places where vines definitely shouldn't be, and the vibe was less 'luxury' and more 'haunted.'
"I'm not living in that thing! It looks like rats live in there—and not the cute Disney kind that can cook!" I shouted, clutching my luggage like it was a shield. "I have standards! My skincare products cost more than this building's property tax!"
Jare and Dave shared a look of pure disbelief. Dave, who is usually happy as long as there's food nearby, actually looked offended.
"I'm calling the school," Dave said, pulling out his phone. "They promised us international accommodations, not a set for a low-budget horror movie."
"Enough, guys," Jare said, though he didn't look happy either. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at our mountain of bags. "Let's just live here for a week or so until we get settled. Then we can find an actual apartment or a house."
"Jare Kuya... I don't wanna!" I whined, dragging out the Kuya just to annoy him and remind him that he's supposed to protect me from things like... whatever this was. "Look at the windows! I'm pretty sure I just saw a ghost waving at me."
"Jay-Jay, it's just for a few days," Jare insisted, picking up his bags. "We're in a new country, it's dark, and we have nowhere else to go. Move."
I let out a groan that probably reached all the way back to London. This was not the grand arrival I had pictured. Where were the marble floors? Where was the central air?
As we dragged our suitcases up the cracked walkway, I noticed that the building was situated right at the edge of a dense line of trees.
"Is it just me," Sarah whispered, clutching her makeup bag, "or is this place specifically designed to make us miserable?"
"It's part of the 'experience,'" Jare muttered grimly.
We reached the front door, which groaned on its hinges as Jare pushed it open. The air inside smelled like old books and dust