Chapter 3 (part 2)
When we go back to the bus, the ride isn’t as boring as earlier because some of the boys who brought musical instruments play songs I don’t know. Maybe some are songs on the radio, which I rarely listen to. I feel like an outcast with these people, singing songs I barely know. I only get to listen to this kind of music when I’m on public transportation or in public places without my earphones.
It takes us six hours to arrive in the city, then we have to ride a motorboat to the island, which I think has no signal or electricity. The water is clear and clean—I can see the sand and rocks beneath the water. It’s so beautiful; the trees are tall, giving this place fresh air. The clouds here are also different from Manila.
Ten passengers can only fit on the boat. It takes four boats to accommodate all of us, including the band, the roadies, the manager, the tourist guides, the driver, and us—the campers. We’re the last campers to be seated on the boat, and unfortunately, we’re seated with the guys and their manager—I wonder why the roadies aren’t with them.
“Hi girls,” their manager says.
My friends smile, so I have to smile too—even though I don’t like to. I feel like a mirror reflecting my friends, but I frown faster than I put on the smile.
They take the seats in front of us. Let me introduce the guys: there’s an ugly curly, shaggy brown-haired guy named Harry; the tallest guy with black hair named Landon; a blue-eyed, shoulder-length-haired, rabbit-toothed guy named Zack; and the last guy who hops on the boat, the youngest, pale, blonde-haired dude Neal, who sits beside Zara because it’s unbalanced.
“Do you mind?” Neal asks.
Stupid. Of course, she doesn’t mind.
“No! Not at all.” she answers, blushing.
I know their faces and names because, of course, you know them, and I don’t have to explain. The driver says it will take thirty minutes to reach the island. Arya asks if there’s electricity or signal before the driver can even say a word, and the manager answers her.
“The house has electricity, but the residents cut it by 8:30. And it’s an island, honey; there’s no signal on any island.” he says with an ordinary British accent.
After a few minutes of silence, with only the motor’s sound making me feel welcome to the only world I know, I silently adore the place and the endless water in our view. I take a picture of the incredible rock formations of the mountains. The mountain and city where we were moments ago connected to the island we’re heading to. There are three more islands around us.
The driver says the tiniest island is nothing but a rock formation, but I think he’s lying because I see trees and green grass. In the middle is the biggest island, and he says it’s the most beautiful, but no one is allowed to camp there since it’s full of corals and sea urchins. Again, I think people can camp there because I can see the famous lighthouse located at the top of the island. The farthest island is medium-sized and looks very white. He says it will take an hour to get there.
A moment passes, and another silence occupies us until Harry breaks it, maybe because he’s bored and wants to bother the people around him.
“Are you friends?” he says, looking directly at me.
So, he’s expecting me to answer his question. I pretend not to hear him and continue capturing the scenery, expecting one of my friends to answer, but Arya shoves my shoulder. I look at her, and she makes a face indicating I should answer Harry’s nonsense question about friends.
“Yes. We’re friends... obviously.” I say, glancing at him.
“Do the three of you love music?” he asks again.
I don’t know why he starts a conversation with me. He’s a bit far from where I’m sitting. I’m next to Arya, across from their manager. Their manager is next to Landon, who is next to Zack, and Zack is at the other edge of the boat.
“Oh, yes. Actually, she has a good voice, but she’s just keeping it to herself.” Arya answers for me.
Thank you, Arya.
“So, the three of you are singers?” he gazes at me.
Arya tells him the story of how the three of us met because she knows I’m not good at conversation… or maybe she’s just hitting on Harry. Whatever it is, I love that she pushes me out of this situation, not like earlier when she did the opposite. Anyhow, Harry listens attentively but glances at me often. There’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen in anyone before. I’m not interested in being his friend, though. A friend who’s far from where I am is too much; I’ve been there, and it didn’t work out. Harry is astounded by what he just heard, and luckily, we reach the island, which is absolutely gorgeous: the water is clear, no trash in sight, everything on this island is amazing. There are about five men on the shore; I assume these are the contract people who will assist us or guard the band. When we reach the shore, the men help the gays and my friends when they jump off the boat. Harry offers his hand to me, but I insist on not being helped. Landon and Neal smirk, Harry punches their shoulders and follows the manager and the guards to the house. I wander my eyes around the place; this is a real paradise: white sand, blue water, fresh air, and green trees surround me. For the first time, I thank my friends and my mother who forced me to come here. I wonder why there’s no one but us on this island. People say it’s a camping site; I doubt if this island is private because there’s nothing here but us, or maybe they paid for this place to be exclusive just for this camp. One of the men tells us to follow them to the house; they carry the gays’ stuff and offer to help us, but we refuse. Our stuff is smaller and lighter; we don’t need any help. We walk deep into the forest; it seems like wild boars are waiting to attack us. I hold the straps of my bag while Harry catches my steps behind me.
“So, you can sing.” he says when he’s a step behind me.
I doubt if that’s a question or a statement. I just want to end the conversation as soon as he starts it.
“Yeah. Everyone can.” I say, cutting the conversation.
Fortunately, he gets the hint that I don’t want to talk to him—not because I don’t like him, but that’s just how I am.
“How can a person live in this place?” I hear Zara complain.
“This is paradise.” says Arya.
Neal agrees with Arya. Then silence occupies us again. When we reach the house, the people settle in front of the porch listening to the guide’s instructions
.