Go, August, Go! FS2 ENGLISH

three: ten years

I stayed with Randy in the car as Sandro got inside the police station alone. So did the car behind us. In his height and lean build, clad with a suit, he looked like a public attorney or something. Two policemen standing outside the building gave him a nod which he rarely acknowledged. I saw them shifting on their feet as he regarded them to ask a question. And almost nervously, one of them led him inside. I sighed and pursed my lips. He did work for my father since I could remember that they almost reflected each other. With action and the way they emit power through intimidation.

I bit my lower lip as he disappeared from my view and finally noticed the group of three boys, probably about fourteen or fifteen but taller, sitting on the sidewalk. I watched the people walking past them, and no one seemed to notice them. Their clothes were not rug or torn. They had slippers on, but as I see it, they were undoubtedly homeless.

“What are you doing?” Randy asked as I pulled down the glass window on my side. It instantly caught the attention of the boys. There was a vacancy in their eyes that just tore my heart. There should be nothing but joy in their youthful looks. I was not that old. At nineteen, I tried my best not to live a hollow life like the people around me.

“I think they’re hungry,” I muttered and produced some bills from my wallet, thankful that I had them. I smiled at the expectant eyes watching me and motioned for them to get closer.

“They don’t seem to be beggars.”

“Or they got tired asking people around because no one’s paying them attention.” My smile grew when they all rose from their seats and reluctantly walked to the car. Behind them, two guards from the car behind us tried to stop them, but I stopped them, too. “It’s fine. I’m just giving them some money.” Without waiting for their response, I held out one bill for each of them. They were innocently confused. I could tell this was the first time they were receiving it.

“Those are a thousand bills,” Randy pointed out as if I couldn’t see.

“It’s nothing, Randy. It would be enough to…” I trailed off as Sandro stepped out of the station fixing his tie. It had only been five minutes. And, of course, he wouldn’t stay there for long. His steps didn’t falter as he headed to our car without sparing a glance at the surroundings. But his brows did furrow at the kids outside the car.

“What are you doing?” he gruffly asked. The boys didn’t get the chance to keep the money as two bills were snatched from the two of them. Sandro gave it back to me before facing the kids. He gave them a single jerk to stay away and the kids did.

“What are you doing?” I asked in confusion. “I gave them the money. They’re—”

“They’re not beggars; I can see, Miss Roxette. Besides, one bill was enough. You don’t know what kids in the street used their money for.”

I pursed my lips as he got in the front seat. “For food, Sandro. What else for?”

He shook his head without looking back at me. “Something that can last longer than food.”

“What…?” but the rest of my words were stuck in my throat as someone stepped out of the building again.

August was wearing a black shirt. In his hand was the red jacket he was wearing a week ago. He hardly jerked his chin to the police escorting him outside. He squinted his eyes to the road. The police were saying something to him but I could see he lost the rest of it as our eyes met.

My heart skipped a beat. I pressed on the button to shut down the window but in my panic, it rolled further down, so I looked away and covered my face with my wallet and the money bills.

“He’s out. You should keep your promise this time, Miss Roxette,” Sandro reminded after I successfully rolled the window up and the car drove away from the station.

“R-Right,” I stuttered and nodded, staring down at the bills in my hand. I would not look back at him. But when I lifted my eyes to the road, I saw the reflection from the side mirror. The boys excitedly approached him. His arms spread out to them as he messed with their hair. So he had a family. Those boys were his kids. He looked young to have kids that age but not too young not to have kids. But aged fourteen to fifteen kids, how old was he exactly? I frowned watching their interaction. But in the middle of it, August looked at our cars. I instinctively looked away again. It was when we turned a corner that I finally was able to breathe.

My mind was occupied by what I had done a week ago and what happened in the police station. I did the right thing, and I kept telling myself it was enough, but I knew it wasn’t. I ruined someone else's life, and despite helping him out of the bars, I couldn’t force myself to relax and be at ease. This should really teach me a better lesson before I get worse and worse.

“We're home,” Sandro announced as he must have noticed I was spacing out. I absentmindedly nodded and sighed. “Your parents are here, too.” The door shut behind him.

I straightened on my seat and found another black BMW on the driveway. My heart hammered against my chest when I saw Sandro already on the steps towards the house. Grimacing, I gritted my teeth and quickly trailed behind him.

“Sandro,” I hissed behind him but he didn’t look back at me. He couldn’t tell my parents where we had been! Also, I hadn’t clearly talked to him about the incident a week ago. He couldn’t report that to them, either.

“Good afternoon, Madame,” he greeted with a short bow as he reached the living room. Mom only glanced at him before she returned her attention to the huge screen before her.

“You’re home,” she coldly said, addressing me as she caught me on her peripheral vision. I walked to her and secretly glared at Sandro, who kept his eyes to the floor. “How have you been this past week? You didn’t escape with those troublesome kids again, did you?”

I walked to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Mom…”

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to hear you defending me with lies. Sandro will report us everything anyway.”

I bit my lower lip. Sandro took a step closer.

“I didn’t meet with them. I’ve never been anywhere but here and school for days.”

“Sandro?” Mom prompted, not trusting my words.

“She’s telling the truth, Madame,” Sandro answered and my head spun at him in surprise. “She hasn't caused us a headache for a week now.”

Without sparing us a glance, Mom lifted her chin and her brow. “We’ve gone for more than a week, Sandro. Something happened to keep her on her ground this time?”

My lips parted. A surprised gasp almost escaped. Sandro glanced at me. His cold eyes sent me into a panic. It was when he was in his calmest that he often told everything to my parents when I thought we understood each other well. I beat him to it by standing in front of my Mom, was about to get her attention off the television but she waved me out of her way. I thought she would scold me for being rude until I realized what she was waiting for on the screen. My mother was not the type to stay in the living room. Let alone watch television.

My lips parted and my eyes widened as August faced appeared on the top corner of the screen while a lady journalist was reporting: The son of a well-off family from Cebu City who was charged ten years ago with possession of illegal drugs and committing s****l harassment just got release six months ago. But last week, Friday, he was taken by the police from a local inn in Makati after allegedly harassing a high school girl. De Gaisano stayed the entire week in Makati police station, and this afternoon, he was released as the victim didn’t show to give a statement. The De Gaisano family is very influential in the South. A bailable case would be easy for them to handle. The Makati City Police advise De Gaisano’s other victim to step out and file a lawsuit, so this won’t happen again. They also assured to keep an eye on him for another week.

“Huh!” Mom scoffed as pictures of August being dragged from the local inn and stepping outside the police station this afternoon appeared on the screen. I was visibly shaking but she didn’t notice it as her wild eyes were fixated on the screen.

Sandro and I glanced at each other. He pursed his lips and returned his eyes to the screen. Mom abruptly rose from her seat after turning off the screen and slamming the remote control on the glass table. I stiffened when she faced me. His limited edition signature bag on her hand. She stayed here before getting upstairs.

“See that? You should stay away from the likes of him. Justice will prevail no matter how powerful they are. Why does the reporter have to enunciate that? Kids these days should be taught a lesson, no matter how untouchable they think they are.”

I frowned and nervously grazed my dried lips with my tongue. “Do you… know him, Mom?”

Her frown was more profound than mine. “He will serve as your example. It would be best if you stayed away from the rascal kids you call friends before you meet someone like that guy. Who knows if those rascals are already not like of that ex-convict?”

I pursed my lips and cast my eyes on the floor. That was too much. But… possession of illegal drugs, yes. Levi's friends used to threaten me, too, but it never went far to s****l harassment.

“Your father is in his study. You should go and meet him. Sandro was not giving any reports about you. We are so used to it whenever we went abroad that your father couldn’t rest without hearing about your nonsense.” She walked past him and headed to the grand staircase. I waited until she was out of sight before I faced Sandro.

“Ten years?” I asked in a breath. My skin shivered in disbelief.

He sighed. “I told you, he just got released. Apparently, it’s only been six months. He’s still starting anew. Can you imagine the weight of trouble you caused him?” His words sounded like a slap to my face. He watched me fall in utter stun. When he realized I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, he turned around and left me. I stood there unmoving until the maids told me what was wrong. I only shook my head and went to my father’s study room just under the stairs.

After knocking thrice at the door, I sighed. “It’s me, Dad.”

“Come in,” he replied from inside the door.

Reluctantly, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open. He was behind his huge desk. It was when I was standing in front of him that he finally lifted his head to me. He fixed his reading glasses on his nose and looked at me from head to toe. His eyes lingered on the backpack in my hand.

“You just got from school?” There was doubt in his eyes. He glanced down at his wristwatch. The drive from school to here was more than an hour. He arched a brow and returned his gaze at the laptop again. “I received your report card last week before you left. We were in a hurry when I received it. Now I’m tired from the business trip and have no strength to scold… What do you suggest we do with all those failed remarks, huh, Roxette?”

My shoulders tensed. I expected this. Sandro had told me about it. It was one reason why I ran with Levi. Fear got the best of me. I knew I would hear an earful if only my parents weren’t busy. Behind that calm disposition and voice, I know my father was seething in anger. The atmosphere got tenser as I fell silent.

“Your mother still doesn’t know about this. I don't want her to lose her momentum before we meet with foreign shareholders. She’s also exhausted after hearing…” he trailed off and looked up at me again. I gulped. “What do you suggest we do, Roxette? I cannot blame your tutors for it anymore. You’re getting worse.”

“Dad…”

“You have until next semester. If you fail this again, I’m afraid you need to transfer abroad. Or finish college in a foreign branch of the school. You know what that means. You’ll be living there on your own.”

“Dad…!”

“Don’t start with that complaint now. You have until the next semester. Along with that, you’ll be retaking all your failed subjects.”

My lips parted in surprise. He fixed the glasses on his nose again without breaking his eyes off the screen.

“You don’t expect to finish your senior with those remarks, do you? Rest in your room now. You should be occupied enough to even think of meeting with the group of out-of-school youth your Mom had been worrying about.”

I parted my lips to say something but my mind was haywire. Lost for words, I pursed my lips and sighed. There was nothing for me to say anyway so I left the room without another single breath.

True enough, I was occupied. But neither with the tests nor Levi’s company. I was occupied with the thoughts of August and the guilt slowly consuming me.

Ten years.

That was what the articles I searched around the internet said about his case. He had been imprisoned in the South for ten years. It was a false count. He got pardoned by the judge because he was proven innocent. Ten years wasted. The news report didn’t even point that out; how biased! It was false imprisonment and he was falsely accused again this time around.

He moved to Taguig, Manila months after his release to start a new life. The people recently learned about it last week after his arrest went public. Sandro was efficient enough to drag my name in the incident although I was very much involved. I wondered why August said nothing about me. Was he traumatized? Or did he know no one would believe him since he just got released? But the more reason for him to defend himself, right?

If he’s from a well-off family based on the reports and the short and few articles about him, why didn’t they help him get out of the police station? Or… did his family outcast him for it?

It couldn’t get me to sleep.

I joined dinner with my parents but when I went back to the room to sleep, I found my laptop on the bed with articles containing pictures of him as a youth. He was seventeen then. Two years younger than I am today and I could only imagine the horror of being put behind bars at such a young age. Ten years and he was finally released, only to be returned there because of my lies.

“What have I done?” I groaned and pulled on my hair in frustration. “Of all people, why does it have to be him who had to deliver that pizza?” But it couldn’t be anyone either. It shouldn’t have been anyone!

I bit my lower and stared at the ceiling. His seventeen-year-old image was imprinted in my mind. Tall and lean. Wild curly hair. The look of innocence and anxiety on his pale face, highlighted by the dark orange shirt he was wearing. The shirt that also stole his freedom. He was completely different from that young boy now. The blue eyes from his youth had somehow turned dark—still the color of the ocean but much deeper. There was no spark. He was taller and had a broader body. He could protect himself now. The soft boy from ten years ago had hardened from outside. What must have he been thinking when he realized he could still do nothing ten years after yet again another false accusation.

“You fvcked up big time, Roxette Andrea. You fvcked up big time,” I muttered to myself and knew that losing sleep would not be enough of a punishment.