Page 77 of Something in Between

“It’s in Brentwood,” I tell her. “Private school.”

“Ah, one of those.”

“Lola! You went to Catholic school in Cebu City,” Mom says before Royce can say anything. We’re all talking at the same time.

“St. Theresa’s was a long time ago,” Lola says. “And the nuns were stupid.”

Royce and I laugh. I hand him a Coke. He smiles his thanks.

“Don’t say that!” Mom says. “God in heaven will strike us all dead.”

“It’s true,” says Lola. “They were dumb as bricks. They thought we were all good girls, but we were smoking, drinking, and meeting the boys after dark. We could stay out until 6:00 a.m. because those nuns were so old, dumb, and blind.” Lola takes off her trifocals. Her eyes suddenly look tiny. “I can’t see through these,” she says, reaching for her purse.

“Let me get that for you.” Royce reaches down.

Lola is quicker than lightning and smacks Royce on the hand with her cane. “Don’t touch that. What are you? Some hooligan?”

Royce yelps, pulling away his hand from Lola like she’s some kind of poisonous snake who snapped at him with her forked tongue. I hold my breath, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he says to Lola with a raised eyebrow.

Dad starts laughing. “Good one, Royce.”

“Lola!” Mom says. “What if he’s going to become a surgeon? You can’t break his hands!”

Lola opens her purse and takes out a handkerchief to wipe her lenses. “I can’t help if he’s slow,” she says.

Royce winks at me while he rubs his hand.

I smirk at Lola. She pretends to be so innocent, but she’s always been a prankster.

“How’s your knee?” I ask Lola.

“It’s fine, but my dancing days are definitely over.”

“Were you a dancer?” Royce asks.

“She likes to think she was,” Dad says.

Mom rolls the last lumpia and puts it on a sheet with the others to fry.

“I was agreatdancer,” Lola says. “I may not be a blood relative of Jasmine, but she wouldn’t be cheerleading if I hadn’t shown her how to shake her hips.”

Royce raises an eyebrow and looks intrigued. I try not to blush.

“Oh, come on,” Mom says.

“It’s true! Tell her,neneng.You know the truth.”

“Lola was a traditional dance leader for the Filipino community here,” I say. “And before that, according to legend—and by legend I mean from the mouth of Lola herself—she also taught ballet at some dance school for fifty years.”

“You exaggerate,” Lola says. “I’m not even fifty years old...”

“Try more like a thousand years,” Dad says, as Danny and Isko enter the room.

“When’s dinner going to be ready?” Danny asks.

Isko kicks Royce in the back of the knee. Royce almost goes tumbling to the floor. Poor Royce. He’s always so abused when he comes over to my house.

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