CHAPTER 8

Chrisnah's Point of View

“Chrisnah!!!” Zoelle’s voice rang through the bustling canteen like an alarm, snapping me out of my thoughts as I trudged through the entrance. The voting had just ended, and Michael and I were finally released from the claustrophobic grip of our classroom. My stomach growled angrily, a cruel reminder that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My mood? Sour, just like my luck today.

And the reason for that sourness? Well, let’s just say I’m now the proud new muse of our class. Not only that, but I’m also thrust into the upcoming Mr. and Ms. SCU pageant during the intramurals—an event I’ve dreaded for as long as I can remember.

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. A pageant? Seriously? That’s so not my thing!

“You’re so loud, Zoelle,” I grumbled as I slumped into a chair beside her. My mind was racing, too preoccupied to process the looks of anticipation from everyone else at the table. Michael had gone to fetch Xylene, muttering under his breath about his sister’s diva-like demands. His complaints echoed my thoughts—why had a simple voting session dragged on for what felt like an eternity?

Zoelle leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re in a bad mood? Whyyyy?”

I could practically feel all eyes on me, the heat of their curiosity boring into my skin. There was no way to dodge it now. I heaved a sigh, resigned to my fate.

“I got elected as the muse of our class this year,” I muttered, barely above a whisper.

The reaction was instantaneous—everyone froze, their eyes widening in shock. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been nominated for something, but I’ve always managed to sidestep being in the spotlight. I never let them nominate me for this role before. No one even tried to vote for me, probably because I’ve always made it clear that I wasn’t interested.

But today? Somehow, my classmates had conspired to get me elected. It’s as if they’ve been infected with Michael’s persistence.

Before I could say anything else, a loud whoop broke the silence, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Shit! Our baby is all grown up!” Clive shouted, slapping high-fives with Chad, Quentin, and Quaid. He turned to Allison, who was mid-bite into her sandwich. “Ali babes! Our twin sister has finally blossomed!”

Allison barely looked up from her food, her voice laced with sarcasm. “I know! I’m not deaf, Clive. Chrisnah’s been ‘grown up’ for a while now; she just had a glow-up.”

Glow-up? What is my twin even talking about? I’ve been grown up for ages! Duh!

I glanced around the table, catching Crane shaking his head at Clive, while the others stifled their laughter.

“What are you guys even talking about?” I asked, utterly confused.

Ate Chary, ever the wise one, chuckled softly. “Just ignore them, Chrisnah. Clive’s just excited because this is the first time you’ve ever been voted class muse.”

“Yeah, Chrisnah! Does that mean you’re your class’s bet for the upcoming intramurals?” Zoey chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I glanced around the table again, noting the silence that had fallen. Everyone was waiting—expecting—an answer from me.

I sighed, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I am.”

The canteen erupted in cheers, led by Clive, who seemed to be enjoying himself way too much. They were all so thrilled, so eager to celebrate this victory that wasn’t even mine.

Me? I was just pissed off. Starving and pissed off.

I shot Zoelle a look, catching her with a wide smile plastered on her face. She was already scheming; I could see it in her eyes. I’ve known Zoelle long enough to recognize that she was already planning my pageant look, probably imagining me in a dozen different outfits.

Zoelle’s a fashion fanatic. Every time one of us had to dress up for a pageant or a formal event, she’d take charge, like when Ate Chary joined Binibini at Ginoong Sining—Zoelle crafted her entire wardrobe, and Ate Chary walked away with the crown.

“Chrisnah, I’ll do your makeup, okay? Zoelle will handle your outfit!” Zoey’s voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. While Zoelle had fashion locked down, Zoey was the master of makeup. Together, they were unstoppable, transforming us all into pageant queens and kings whenever duty called.

“Who else?” I mumbled, my grumpiness seeping through. Zoey just laughed, used to my gruff demeanor by now.

“Chrisnah, you need to start your beauty rest now if you want to be even more gorgeous!” Quaid teased, waggling his eyebrows.

Clive jumped in, narrowing his eyes at Quaid. “Why? Are you saying my twin is ugly? There’s no one ugly in our family, duh!”

Quaid laughed, shaking his head. “No, dummy. I said ‘more’ gorgeous. Pay attention!”

“Oh! Right. Sorry!” Clive nodded, then struck a pose like he was on a runway.

“There is one ugly person in your family.” Alison’s deadpan voice cut through the laughter, making Clive turn to her in confusion.

“Who, Ali babe?” Clive asked, oblivious.

Alison swallowed her bite of sandwich before glaring at him. “You. And stop calling me Ali babe, or I’ll shove this sandwich in your face.”

The table exploded in laughter at their bickering. Alison and Clive’s banter was nothing new, but it never failed to entertain us. They teased each other like pros, and despite Alison’s gruff exterior, Clive was utterly smitten with his best friend, though too scared to confess.

Zoelle, still caught up in her planning, suddenly piped up, “But who’s your escort?”

Everyone froze again, turning their attention back to me. I groaned inwardly, wishing I could disappear under the table. I was about to answer when a familiar, high-pitched voice pierced the air.

“Of course, it’s my handsome brother!” Xylene announced, a wide grin plastered on her face as she entered the canteen, her twin brother Michael in tow.

“You mean pretty!” Michael corrected, flipping his hair dramatically.

The table fell silent for a split second, jaws dropping in unison as everyone processed what they’d just heard. The news was as shocking as it was unexpected.

“Omg!!! This is perfect!!” Zoey squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m going to style both of you!”

“I’ll handle the costumes!” Zoelle added, exchanging a conspiratorial glance with her brother. The Wilford siblings had always been a force to be reckoned with, and now, they were fully mobilized.

“This pageant is going to be legendary,” Ate Chary mused, a small smile playing on her lips.

“It looks like I know who I’ll be passing my throne to,” Quaid said, shaking his head in amusement. As the reigning Mr. SCU, he’d be the one to pass down the title at the end of this year’s pageant.

Michael and I exchanged a look as our friends buzzed with excitement, making plans and throwing around ideas. We were completely overwhelmed, but what could we do? Our classmates had voted for us, and backing out now wasn’t an option. We’d just have to face whatever came next, one step at a time.

I wasn't aiming to win, just to represent our room. Winning would be nice, but if we didn’t, I could live with that. But I wasn’t sure about Michael—he seemed like the kind of guy who’d take this thing seriously, especially with that runway walk of his.

I glanced over at him. He was unusually quiet, pushing his food around on his plate. What’s up with him? He’s usually the loudest one here.

“When’s the intramurals again?” Quentin broke the silence, and I silently thanked him for asking the question that had been on my mind too.

“This Friday,” Alison replied casually.

Suddenly, Michael and I choked at the same time, both scrambling for water as our friends watched in concern. I didn’t even know whose glass I grabbed, but I downed it like my life depended on it.

“What happened to you guys?!” Quentin asked, wide-eyed, as we finally managed to stop coughing. I wiped my mouth, nodding to show I was okay, while Michael caught his breath beside me.

“What did you say, Ali?” I asked, trying to make sure I heard her right. “When’s the intramurals?”

Alison looked confused. “I said this Friday. Why?”

Michael and I exchanged horrified glances, and a sense of dread washed over me. This Friday?! I could’ve sworn it was next month! How could time slip by so fast? We weren’t prepared at all, and our homeroom teacher hadn’t even given us a heads-up. It was already Tuesday!

“Shocks! I need to hurry and finish making the costumes and outfits for Michael and Chrisnah!” Zoelle blurted out, clearly panicking. The realization hit the rest of them too; the day we’d all been talking about for weeks was almost here.

“Omg! We need to prepare for this! Michael and Chrisnah need to win!” Zoey declared, and suddenly, everyone was in a frenzy, planning and plotting. Meanwhile, Michael and I sat there, clueless, like we were being swept along by a wave of chaos we didn’t sign up for.

As everyone got caught up in the whirlwind of excitement and stress, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. I’d never been in a pageant before. What did I know about walking a runway or answering questions under pressure? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Lunch ended with everyone fixated on the outfits Michael and I would wear for the upcoming pageant. They were so determined to see us win, it was as if they didn’t have their own classrooms and representatives to support. They claimed their loyalty lay with us. It was touching, in a way, but also overwhelming. I mean, who said we even wanted to win?

But despite all the craziness, I couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through me. It was a comfort knowing that so many people had our backs, supporting us through thick and thin. It was the kind of friendship that made you feel like you could conquer the world, just because they believed in you.

“Why are you so quiet, Michael?” I asked as we walked back to our classroom. He had been unusually silent since we arrived, not cracking jokes or being his usual playful self.

He glanced at me with a frown. “Aren’t you nervous about the pageant?” he asked.

“Huh? Not really. Why?” I replied. It was the truth. I wasn’t nervous at all. I mean, there were scarier things in life, like needing to poop in a public place and not being able to do anything about it. That was real fear.

“Nothing.” He said it so softly, I almost missed it.

I nudged him. “Hey, what’s your problem?” I asked, curious about what was bothering him. He winced, rubbing his side where I had elbowed him a bit too hard.

“Ouch! Your elbow is like a rock!” he complained, pouting.

I smirked at him. “Well, you weren’t talking, so I had to get your attention somehow.”

Michael sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m just anxious about the pageant,” he admitted, looking at the ground as we walked. “It’s my first time doing something like this, and I’m scared I’ll mess up. What if I trip? Or worse, what if I can’t answer the questions? I mean, I’ve got the looks, but my brain? Let’s not go there.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatic confession. Typical Michael—always overthinking things before they even happened.

“You’re being silly,” I told him, trying to lighten the mood. “The pageant hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already stressing out. Just enjoy the experience. It’s a chance to strut your stuff on stage, and if we win, great! If not, at least we’ll have fun.”

Michael stopped walking, causing me to stop too. “But this isn’t the runway I want,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I want to be a real model, walking the fashion runways, not some school pageant.”

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re overthinking again, Michael. Just go with the flow and enjoy it. We’ll get through it together.”

He looked at me, his expression softening. “Yeah, you’re right. I should just go with it. But seriously, you have no idea how scary this is for me.”

I gave him a playful shove. “Scary? You? Please. You’ve got this. Now, let’s get moving before we’re late.”

Michael grinned, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. “You’re right. We’ll nail this, and if we don’t, at least we tried.”

As we made our way back to class, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of determination. We might not have been ready for what was coming, but we had each other’s backs, and that was all that mattered.

Third Person’s Point of View

The days leading up to the intramurals were a whirlwind of preparations and last-minute plans. The entire group of friends was in overdrive, each one contributing in their own way to ensure that Michael and Chrisnah were ready for the pageant.

Zoelle, ever the perfectionist, was busy crafting the costumes with her skilled hands, ensuring every detail was flawless. Zoey was on a shopping spree, hunting down the perfect makeup to complete the look. She didn’t want anything to go wrong on the big day.

Clive and Crane were neck-deep in basketball practice, perfecting their moves for the upcoming tournament. Chad and Quentin were equally absorbed in soccer, strategizing plays that would lead them to victory. Quaid was immersed in volleyball drills, while Chary and Allison were working tirelessly to create the perfect cheering materials.

And then there were Michael and Chrisnah, the stars of the show, who spent every free moment rehearsing for the pageant. Their lives had become a blur of practices, fittings, and pep talks. The pressure was mounting, and everyone could feel it.

As the final rehearsal night arrived, there was a palpable tension in the air. Tomorrow was the start of the intramurals, and with it, the beginning of the pageant. The first day would see Michael and Chrisnah walking the runway in their sports and casual attire, and the second day would be the grand finale, with evening gowns, talents, and the dreaded Q&A session.

Zoelle was a bundle of nerves as she made the final adjustments to Chrisnah’s evening gown. There had been a slight measurement error, and she was determined to fix it before the big day.

“Here it is! Try this on again, Chrisnah!” Zoelle called, holding up the stunning baby pink gown. The fabric shimmered in the light, soft and flowing, with a slit that hinted at elegance and grace.

The three of them were at Zoelle’s house, preparing for the final fitting. Michael was already dressed in his three-piece suit, looking every bit the gentleman. Zoey had insisted on doing his hair and makeup to make the rehearsal feel as real as possible.

“Come on, Zoey! Help Chrisnah get ready too!” Zoelle urged, dragging her sister away from fussing over Michael and into her room with Chrisnah in tow.

Chrisnah felt like a puppet, exhausted from the day’s rehearsals, but she knew this was important. The gown fit perfectly this time, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places. The long slit added a touch of drama, while the open back made it feel modern and daring.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, Zoey and Zoelle beamed with pride. “Perfect!” they exclaimed, ushering her to the dresser to start on her makeup.

Zoey worked her magic, opting for a simple yet elegant look that enhanced Chrisnah’s natural beauty. She braided her hair into a messy French braid, adorned with delicate golden pins, and when she was done, even Chrisnah had to admit she looked stunning.

“Let’s go down and show Michael!” Zoelle said excitedly, helping Chrisnah up.

Michael was slumped on the couch, fighting off sleep as the clock inched closer to ten. He yawned, thinking about how he was usually in bed by this time, but tonight was different.

He was about to doze off when he heard Zoey’s voice echo through the house.

“Behold, everyone! A Goddess is coming down the stairs!” Zoey’s voice rang out, full of playful drama.

Michael looked up, and what he saw took his breath away. There, descending the stairs with an ethereal glow, was Chrisnah. The sight of her in that gown was enough to make him sit up, wide awake now.

His jaw dropped, and he couldn’t stop staring. The gown flowed around her like it was made for her, and she carried it with such grace and poise.

He had to admit, she was stunning.