1. Monday Evening

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I am the goddess of folding laundry.

Well, no. But I do it well. Maybe enough to get some kind of title? Princess, maybe? There has to be a way to reward me for being good at this.

I've had a lot of practice folding my clothes. And my mother's. We've been doing all the work, just the two of us, for several years now, since my dad left and made us the kind of people who had to learn to do things ourselves. I'm proud of my clothes-folding skills, and have no problem doing it for a good cause.

There's a week-long typhoon relief drive at school this week. Ford River College, my school as of three weeks ago. Last week a crazy powerful storm passed through the country, and left many people in Laguna and Manila homeless and needing basic supplies. You wouldn't have known it though if you see the school today. It looks untouched by the storm, or flooding. But it's up on a hill and it looks like the buildings have been designed well.

Also my school is rich. Filthy rich.

They're used to being the only thing standing after a major typhoon, and as soon as the weather cleared up, the relief drive began. Donations poured in. The basketball court has been transformed into a processing area for goods. Students and teachers are spending their free time sorting and sending out relief packages.

It's past seven, and I'm the only one left here, folding clothes. They allowed me to do that, because Ms. Farrah the guidance counsellor is one of the leaders of the relief drive, and I work for her office, and she trusts me.

I'm not as rich as the other students. I'm here on scholarship, and I have to work in the Guidance Office several hours a week to give back. It's also why I'm here, past seven, folding clothes. I don't have anything extra to donate. Nothing but my time.

There's an awesome fundraising effort too, happening this week. Flowers For A Cause, they call it. You can purchase a really expensive bouquet of roses and have it sent to anyone in school, and the money goes to a project for the people in a Laguna fishing community. I really want to help, but I don't have any money to give. I don't want to ask my mom for more, even for a good cause.

"Why are you still here?"

I hear him come up behind me, but I'm not so surprised anymore. I came to Ford River as a solo agent; no one from my high school is here. Ms. Farrah told me not to worry if I didn't make that many friends right away. People want to hang out with people they know from high school, I get it. I have a few friends, right now, on my third week as a freshman. There's Sol, who's from Naga, and is a solo agent like me.

And there's this guy.

He's so handsome.

And smart. And nice. He'd have to be nice to be that handsome and speak to someone like me. Never mind that I'm on scholarship...I'm nobody. No clubs yet, no talents to speak of, not as beautiful as my model-perfect schoolmates.

He is model-perfect. He is...well, he's a junior. He's tall. He's surrounded by pretty people all the time. When we first met I thought he'd forget my name and move on, but he's said hi a lot since then. And now this.

"I'm closing up," I say. "Aren't you heading home?"

"I will, now. I'll wait for you."

I blush, and look down at the shirt I'm folding so he can't see. "Thanks."

"You can do this tomorrow."

I shrug. "I really want to help, but I can't donate to the flower thing. I'm a scholarship kid."

He pushes my perfect pile of folded shirts aside and sits on the table. He's right next to me now, looking at me as I fold. "You don't have to spend for it. You can sign up at the Flowers For A Cause table and someone could do the donation for you. And you get the flowers."

"Oh, but I don't know anyone who'll do that," I say, and then...wait.

Is that a hint?

Could he actually...is he planning to...?

He can't be. I'm nobody.

It's late and I've inhaled too much detergent.

"Thank you for the idea," I say instead. "Maybe I'll do it."

"No problem. You live nearby, right? I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to."

"It's late, and I don't think I should be walking all alone at night." His smile is sweet. Almost like I can trust it. But it's teasing too, because boys...ugh, why are boys so confusing. "You should be around to protect me."

"Fine," I say. "One last pile and then we're out of here. Thanks, Joaquin."

"Quin."

"Right." I almost forget the nickname he prefers people call him.

"You're welcome, Hannah."

Yeah, he remembers my name. That's so nice of him.      

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