Do you know that game where you share two stories-one true and one false-then your listeners will guess which one is the true story and which one is the lie? It’s a fun game! And we did it for a writing class in school. We had to write two super short stories-one true and one false-then read them in front of class so the classmates could guess which one is which.
I guess the activity shows how good a person is in fictionalizing stuff. And I did pretty well in this exercise because only about four people in class guessed the true story! So anyway, here it is and I challenge you, Candy Girls, to guess which one is the true story and which one is the lie!
Yes
It was Algebra class when I received a piece of paper with the most serious question I had to answer as an eleven-year-old high school freshman: “Will you be my girlfriend?” it said. Two seats away from me was the sender-the tallest, whitest guy in class, shyly hiding his head between the pages of our textbook. It’s funny how I didn’t think at all. I wrote, “YES,” with a smiley face and passed it back to him.
We’d meet at the stairwell at the rear of the high school building every Wednesday and Friday afternoon. It was our secret place, secluded enough to hide us from the prying eyes of the faculty and nuns. Relationships aren’t encouraged in our strict Catholic school so everyone had to be precautious. We had friends as watch dogs to look out for passersby. They’d scream our secret warning code or just come dashing to us. If we didn’t have enough time to run and hide, he’d cover me with his back so people wouldn’t see me. He was that big. Or I was that small.
When all is clear, I’d lean on the dirty white wall and he’d stand in front of me. It was picture perfect, us talking about random stuff under the orange glow of the sunset. Postcard perfect, even.
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No!!!
It was Algebra class when I received a piece of paper with the most serious question I had to answer as an eleven-year-old high school freshman: “Will you be my girlfriend?” it said. Two seats away from me was the sender-the tallest, whitest guy in class, grinning widely behind the pages of our textbook. Did he seriously think I’d say “YES” to an idiot like him? I had better things to do. I wrote a screaming “NO,” followed by three exclamation marks then I crumpled the paper and threw it back to him.
He was still very persistent. He’d go to my desk every single break time sometimes with offerings of Zesto juice or mango shake accompanied by a two-peso worth banana-q sold at the canteen. Not wanting them to go to waste, I’d accept these gifts and give them to the patay gutom guys in class. His friends would hound me and ask why I’m playing so hard to get. And I’d just look at them and shrug, “whatever.” He knew this, of course he knew I gave away his gifts, of course he knew I didn’t care a centavo ‘cause I openly showed him my indifference.
It took him two months and many more Zesto packs and mango juices and two-peso worth banana-qs to finally, finally give up and move on to another girl.
***
So, Candy girls, which one do you think really happened to me? 