Ninth Grade (Third Year) | Junior High
The bell rang, not the usual soft chime between periods, but a blaring, screeching alarm that sent everyone in Third Year-St. Rita jerking upright in their seats.
A few kids screamed.
Most groaned.
Stella flinched, pencil slipping across her paper. “Seriously?” she muttered, capping her pen.
“Okay, class,” Ms. Ramones called out, already collecting her register. “Drop everything. Fire drill protocol. Line up. No rushing, no shouting.”
Chairs screeched. Bags were abandoned. Students began forming uneven lines toward the door.
Stella didn’t rush. She took her time, even slipping her pen back into its case before standing. She hated fire drills—not because of the noise, but because they messed with her sense of rhythm.
She stepped into the hallway, falling into line behind her classmates. Someone bumped into her shoulder.
“Oops. Sorry.”
She turned—and there he was. Vince. Grinning like he didn’t just body-check her on purpose.
“Of course it’s you,” she mumbled.
He raised a brow. “Me? Offended ako, ah.”
Stella rolled her eyes.
Vince moved to walk beside her as they started making their way down the hallway, teachers herding the lines like sheepdogs.
“This is so fake,” he whispered. “If there was a real fire, we’d be barbecued by now.”
Stella stifled a laugh. “Ssssh. Don’t get us in trouble.”
“Eh ikaw, ang seryoso mo,” he teased. “Relax lang. It's just a drill.”
They turned a corner and joined the flood of other classes heading out to the field. The concrete corridor echoed with chatter, squeaky shoes, and the shrill repetition of the alarm.
As they reached the field, Stella’s shoe almost slipped on a patch of dust. She caught herself in time.
“Careful, klutz,” Vince said from behind, steadying her elbow.
“I got it,” she muttered, brushing him off.
“Chill. I’m just being a gentleman.”
“You? Gentleman? Please.”
They finally reached the grassy area where the teachers were barking orders. Ms. Ramones pointed to a shaded patch.
“Class St. Claire, dito tayo!”
Everyone scattered around in the sun. Some plopped down immediately. Others just stood, hands on hips, annoyed.
Stella sat cross-legged, pulling her skirt slightly over her knees. She tugged at the collar of her uniform—it was sweltering.
Vince flopped beside her, too close as usual.
“Bro, ang init,” he groaned, fanning himself with his hand. “Parang oven dito.”
“Then sit somewhere else.”
“Wag ka na magtaray. We’re bonding, remember?”
“We’re not.”
He nudged her knee. “Come on, Stell. Admit it. Na-miss mo ‘ko kahit konti.”
“Miss tripping over your jokes? No thanks.”
“Hey, I make your boring days fun.”
She gave him a deadpan look. “You make my days unpredictable.”
“Exactly. You’re welcome.”
From the front, the teacher was counting heads. A few students were already lying flat on the grass like exhausted campers.
Suddenly, Vince reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded fan.
“Look,” he said, flipping it open with a flourish. “For the princess.”
He started fanning her dramatically.
Stella burst out laughing. “Ano ‘yan, pang-tita fan?”
“Hey! Vintage vibes ‘to. Stylish pa rin.”
“Baka mosquito killer yan.”
He fanned her faster. “You’re just jealous you don’t have one.”
A gust of wind blew his fan away. It somersaulted over a patch of dirt.
“Oops,” Vince muttered, standing to chase it.
“Good riddance,” Stella grinned.
He came back after a minute, dusty but triumphant.
“Told you, priceless item. Sayang ‘to.”
They both sat quietly for a beat. The sun bore down. The alarm had stopped, but the drill was still ongoing.
Stella turned to him. “You know what I don’t get? Why pretend we’re all calm and orderly in a fake fire? Like we’d really line up like this in an actual emergency.”
Vince shrugged. “Practice lang. Para daw ‘di tayo mag-panic.”
“You’ll panic first,” she said.
“Excuse me? I’m the calmest here.”
“You screamed when you saw that lizard in the hallway.”
“That was a tactical retreat.”
Stella giggled, and for a second, things felt easy.
Then the loudspeaker buzzed, and the coordinator’s voice blared: “All clear. Students, return to your classrooms in an orderly manner.”
Everyone groaned again.
As they stood up, Vince brushed his pants off. “Bet mo ‘to—magkaka-quiz pagbalik.”
“I will riot,” Stella muttered, adjusting her ponytail.
“Same. If Ms. Ramones pulls out that projector again, I’m switching seats.”
“You sit at the back anyway.”
“Exactly. Escape route.”
They filed back inside, voices lower now, some kids clearly disappointed the break was over.
Back in their classroom, Stella sat down and felt the heat still clinging to her skin. Vince dropped into the chair beside her, exhaling dramatically.
“Highlight of my day,” he said, looking at her.
She blinked. “What?”
“You laughing kanina. Rare sight.”
Stella looked away, trying not to smile.
“Don’t get used to it,” she said.
“We’ll see.”
And just like that, the fire drill was over—but the chaos Vince brought? That was just beginning.
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