I hate leaving Cebu, I hate leaving Maja and I hate leaving the clear blue water that surrounds our house. “Manila is a great city, baby. You’re gonna love it, I promise.” My father says. As he turns the dial down on the radio. “But, we’re not leaving in the city, remember?” Vista is a short travel to the city, it’s no big deal Kim.” He sighs. Ugh. No big deal. For him, maybe it isn’t, but for me it feels like I am being punished for my mother’s sudden and brutal departure. I just shrug and give in. The forty-five minutes plane ride is going to be hard enough to handle, I don’t need any pointers and how to get by. I’ve made it unscathed for six months to the day, he doesn’t need to start now. This is going to be a long one hour. Thank God, for iPod. It’s the only thing to keep me occupied, throughout this hell of a plane ride that I am trusted into. Ever since my mother walked on us, I had a hard time trusting anyone. The killer part, she just left a note telling us that she needed to move on, rediscover herself, and that she hadn’t been happy in years. A note, that’s it. She was gone when I got home from the beach one day. If you can’t trust your own mother, who the hell can you trust?

 I have separated from most of my friends, lost my boyfriend. As much as I hate her for leaving me, I keep an old photo of her tucked under my pillow. My father removed every traced of her after she left, so there is no constant reminders lingering throughout the house. I can’t help but feel guilty, almost all my features resemble her, except for the eyes. Those are a gift from my father’s side. I am half Chinese-half Filipina.

As we approach the four bedroom house, I can’t help but think how ridiculous it is to be living in such a big house. I know my father does well in life, but the BMW and the huge house is a bit of an overkill.

My room is already done the exact way it was in Cebu. My dad wants me to feel comfortable, and had it painted the exact shade of pink. I have to admit, it’s a cool room. It’s huge, with an archway and it has a stairs going to my bed, making it look like a two-storey house inside a huge house. The bathroom is big enough, it has Jacuzzi and sauna.

It’s the middle of the school year, January. It was hard enough to maintain good friends in Cebu, but going in as a senior will be impossible. You learn by the fourth grade, girls are just plain evil, circulating, and rarely let anyone into their tight circles. After ten years in Cebu, I had made all the friends I needed, and even an ex-boyfriend to boot.

I hate waking when the alarm goes off, the snooze button keeps my eyes closed until I have to force them open.

After a much needed shower, I put on my jeans and t-shirt, and carefully apply light make-up. I run down the stairs to find my Dad, before heading off to a day that I am looking forward to. He isn’t anywhere to be found, just a note fastened on the fridge with a magnet that I read I love Cebu on the front. He’s already left for work.

After a quick tuna sandwich, I throw the pink chuck taylor on that my bestfriend Maja gave me and head to my new school. The walk to school is as horrific as I expect. As I trudge through sidewalks, I’m mad at myself for tucking my jeans and now I’m sweating. God, how I miss flipflops.

As I approach the West Vista High School, my new home away from home, I can’t help but completely put off by the cars in the parking lot. I must have counted at least ten BMWs, two Audi’s, and a ridiculous amount of Volvo’s. Who the hell are these kids? The rich and famous apparently. My dad promised to buy me a car for college, but I never would expect a car like any of those. Besides I’d rather walk.