Countless vibrations rattled through the silence of the van as Celine powered on her phone, lifeless for the entirety of the twelve-hour journey.
A flood of missed calls and messages filled the screen. All of them bore the same names—her parents, and of course, her older brother.
"You're already awake, ija," said Tata Berto, their driver, his smile gentle as he studied her mood. "Perfect timing. After the next tunnel, you'll see the sea."
Celine didn't reply. Her eyes were still tender from the tears she had shed, though her breathing had steadied. To anyone else, she might have seemed calm—but Tata Berto, who had watched her grow up, could sense the heaviness that lingered in her.
The soft trill of her ringtone pierced the quiet. Celine's gaze fixed on the screen, her hand hovering, unsure whether to answer.
From the rearview mirror, Tata Berto spoke again. "Don't let bitterness take root against your brother. I can tell he's trying—everything he does, it's for you."
His words settled into her, heavy but warm. Her mind was too tired to weigh decisions, yet she had always trusted the wisdom of her elders.
With a small breath, she answered the call. Her eyes drifted to the window just as they cleared the tunnel, and there it was—the sea, glimmering like a thousand jewels under the sun. Waves unfurled gently onto the white shore, coconut trees bending as though to greet her. The sight stole her heart in an instant.
"Hey, Celine…" The voice on the other end was deep and soothing, carrying warmth across the static. "…How was the trip? You've arrived by now, haven't you?"
Her eyes caught a large sign by the roadside:
Welcome to Kahelea
"Yes," she whispered, still drinking in the view.
"I hope you'll enjoy it there. Send my regards to Lola Marga—"
"Kuya…" Her voice broke softly, a tender plea. "Can I stay here?"
A quiet chuckle came from the line. "It must be beautiful, if you're asking me that already."
Celine didn't answer. She was too stunned by the small town's charm to speak.
"I can't promise you," her kuya sighed. "You know Mama and Papa."
"I know…" she murmured. "…Just hoping. For once."
"Well, at least you'll enjoy it there until school starts again."
"That's a long time, I guess?" Celine asked.
"Long enough for you to get a tan."
"As if," she scoffed. "With this pale skin? I'll probably leave with a sunburn."
Her kuya chuckled, relieved that she was finding a little humor after what had happened the night before.
"I'm sorry about last night…" his voice grew quiet.
"It wasn't even your fault."
"I know, but it's still—"
The call dropped. Celine frowned and checked her phone. No signal.
"There's no signal here," she said flatly.
"What?!" Tata Berto yelped, nearly dropping the wheel as he snatched up his own phone. "Oh my Rosa! How can I reach you now?!" He pressed his phone to his forehead like a widower at a wake.
Celine just sighed. Poker-faced, she leaned her cheek against the window. She was used to his theatrics.
The van rolled on, soon entering the heart of Kahelea. The streets bustled with life—not crowded, but lively enough for a small coastal town. Surf shops, cafés, souvenir stalls, even a bookshop or two dotted the roadside. People zipped by on skateboards and bicycles beneath the shade of coconut trees.
Their tanned skin, sun-bleached hair, and handmade necklaces looked like something out of a teenage movie. Celine's lips parted slightly. Wow. Thankfully, the van's dark tint saved her from being caught staring like a tourist.
"We're close to your Lola's house," Tata Berto announced. "But it's been so long since I was last here… I'll be worried if we can even find it."
———————
He was right. Minutes later, they were circling unfamiliar streets, fuel running low, the only gas station far behind them. Worse, the signal was gone—no way to call Lola Marga, no GPS.
Coconut trees lined both sides of the road, towering over large beach houses. Not far away, a group of teenagers skated and laughed, surfboards tucked under their arms.
"Let's stop here, Tata. I'll ask," Celine suggested, opening the van door before he could object.
"Excuse me," she called, her soft voice carrying enough to make them look up. "We're kind of lost. Do you know Margarita Miller?"
The group exchanged puzzled glances. Finally, a tall, tan, blonde boy scratched his head. "Sorry girl… don't know her."
"Oh. Okay. Tha—"
"Show us a photo," said a girl from the back, standing barefoot with a surfboard under her arm. Long blonde hair framed her sun-kissed face. She wore a bikini under denim shorts, her sandals dangling lazily from her other hand.
Celine thought, So pretty, as she tucked her hair behind her ear and searched her phone.
"This is her," she said calmly, holding out the screen. The teens crowded around. Celine's eyes drifted again toward the tall girl, who leaned in to peek.
"She looks familiar."
"Yeah."
"I swear I've seen her before."
"Move, idiots." The long-haired girl shoved them aside with her hip. "That's Lola Marga, obviously."
"What?!" they all chorused.
"Let me see again!"
"Wait, that's her when she was younger?"
"Lola Marga was a stunner."
"Still is, actually."
The group erupted in chatter, leaving Celine standing awkwardly at the edge.
"So they do know her," Celine muttered.
The blonde-haired girl crossed her arms and smirked. "Don't mind them. They're like animals in the wild." Then she stepped beside Celine. "We all know Lola Marga. She's our neighbor. I'm Solana. Sol, for short."
"Celine," she replied with her usual small smile.
"Come on. We'll take you there." Solana tilted her head for her to follow.
A short walk later, they stopped at a gated house. Solana swung the gate open like it belonged to her.
"Lola Marga!" the short-haired girl shouted.
"We're here!" the long-haired boy added, cupping his hands like a megaphone.
While the others yelled, Solana stayed by Celine's side. "So… what's your relationship with her? Don't tell me you're her long-lost daughter or something." Her lips curled playfully.
"She's my grandmother—on my father's side," Celine said, her tone calm as always.
"Ohhh." Solana nodded, then began pointing out her friends like souvenirs in a shop. "That's Elio,"—the blonde boy—"Kaia," the petite short-haired girl, "and Kai," her twin brother with long hair. "That's Mateo, the one with the red hair. And Niko, the bald one."
Before Celine could respond, a warm, familiar voice rang out from the porch.
"My, my! Who do we have here?"
They all turned. At the top of the steps stood a woman in a flowing dress, still graceful despite her age. Her smile spread until her eyes found Celine.
"Celine! My apo!" she cried, rushing down with surprising speed.
"Lola, slow down!" the teens chorused, scrambling to catch her.
But Celine had already run forward. The moment her grandmother's arms wrapped around her, the pale girl's gloomy mask shattered.
"Lola! I've missed you," she sobbed, clinging tightly.
"I've missed you too, apo," Lola Marga whispered, stroking her back. "Now, now, no more tears. Lola is here."
The teenagers stood frozen. They hadn't expected the gloomy, porcelain-skinned girl—the one who seemed so unapproachable—to cry like a child in her grandmother's arms.
Whatever impression Celine had given at first, it was gone.
Kaia tilted her head. "I take it back. Not a vampire."
"Yeah," Kai added. "Vampires don't cry. Do they?"
"Maybe she's a Twilight vampire," Mateo snorted, flipping his red hair dramatically. "They sparkle and cry."
"Shut up, chili pepper," Niko deadpanned.
Celine wiped her eyes quickly, cheeks warming. She was not used to being the center of attention—and certainly not like this.
"Come, apo," Lola Marga said, taking Celine by the hand. "You must be tired from the trip. Let's get you settled inside."
As they stepped through the porch and into the house, Celine cast a quick glance back at the group. Solana was watching her with an amused half-smile, arms folded across her toned frame. The twins were whispering furiously about something, while Elio adjusted his surfboard against the fence, golden hair catching the late sun. Mateo and Niko were already shoving each other like wrestlers.
They were loud, lively, and entirely different from her.
——————
The Miller household smelled of sea breeze and polished wood. Seashell wind chimes clinked softly in the entryway, while woven mats stretched neatly across the floor. On the walls hung framed photos of family gatherings, all lit by the warm orange glow of the setting sun.
Celine sat stiffly on the sofa, her pale hands folded in her lap. Around her, chaos reigned.
"Sit properly, all of you!" Lola Marga barked at the teens spilling into the living room. "You look like a pack of stray dogs."
"Correction," Mateo said, throwing himself into a rattan chair, "we're cool stray dogs."
"Cool dogs don't reek of seawater," Niko replied, nudging him with a bare foot.
"Shut up, bald eagle."
"Chili pepper."
"Shampoo commercial reject."
"Lighthouse beacon."
"Children!" Lola Marga clapped her hands. "If you want to argue, I'll rent the plaza for you so the whole town can watch."
Kaia and Kai snickered quietly on the rug, not loud like the others, but their eyes glimmered with mischief.
"Five pesos says Mateo cries first," Kaia whispered to her twin.
"Ten pesos says Niko strangles him first," Kai whispered back, both of them grinning.
Meanwhile, Elio leaned against the window, adjusting his hair so it caught the golden light just right. "Honestly," he said, admiring his reflection faintly in the glass, "I make this room ten times prettier just by standing here."
Nobody answered.
"Did you hear me?" Elio tried again, tossing his blond hair. "Ten times prettier."
Silence.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, half-offended, half-proud. He pulled out a compact mirror from his pocket, angling his jawline at the sun. "At least I appreciate me."
Celine stared at him blankly, her face unreadable. "…Do you always carry that around?"
"Of course." Elio winked at her reflection in the mirror. "Emergencies happen."
Solana rolled her eyes. "Like the emergency of not being admired enough?"
"Exactly." Elio pointed at her with mock seriousness. "Finally, someone who understands me."
Solana just rolled her eyes as she perched on the sofa arm nearest Celine, posture lazy but gaze sharp, as though quietly observing her new neighbor.
"They're always like this," Solana murmured low enough for Celine alone. "Don't mind them. Think of them as background noise."
"Background noise that makes me want earplugs," Lola grumbled, carrying out a tray of buko juice and rice cakes.
The tray had barely touched the table before the twins pounced.
"Kaia! Don't hog all the kutsinta!" Kai yelped, grabbing at her hand.
"Too late!" Kaia declared triumphantly, stuffing one into her mouth like a squirrel.
"Animals," Solana muttered, but her lips curved faintly.
Celine reached for a glass of juice with careful hands. She wasn't used to this. In the city, her family's house was quiet, every sound measured, laughter trimmed down to polite chuckles. Here, life exploded at full volume.
Lola noticed her hesitation and gently touched her granddaughter's hand. "They may look like trouble, apo, but they're good children. Loud, yes, but good."
Celine nodded faintly. "I can tell."
"Hey, Celine," Mateo leaned forward, grin mischievous. "Do you surf?"
Celine turned her gaze on him, calm and pale. "Do I look like I surf?"
The room stilled.
Then Elio smirked. "Fair. You look like you'd rather haunt a library."
Laughter rang around the room—even Solana's low chuckle slipped out.
"I do like libraries," Celine said evenly. "At least I won't be in the beach trying to drown you."
Mateo slumped dramatically. "She's scarier than she looks."
"Finally," Niko said flatly. "Someone who can shut him up."
Just then, the front door flew open. Tata Berto stumbled in, drenched in sweat, fanning himself with a towel.
"Margarita! You don't know what I endured! No fuel, no signal, I can't contact my dear Rosa and two fishermen had to help me push the van! One of them laughed at me, Margarita!"
"You survived," Lola replied dryly, setting down another plate of kakanin. "Sit down before you faint for attention."
"I am fainting for attention!" Tata Berto wailed.
The teens howled with laughter. For the first time, Celine's lips curved faintly—quickly hidden behind her glass.
—————
As dusk rolled in, the group insisted on showing Celine around town.
"You can't stay cooped up, pale girl," Kaia said, tugging her hand. "You'll mildew."
"I just arrived. Shouldn't I unpack?" Celine asked.
"That can wait," Solana said simply, already swinging the gate open. "Besides, Kahelea is better than unpacking."
The street glowed under the lanterns strung between coconut trees. Children raced barefoot, chasing fireflies. The salty breeze carried scents of grilled fish, roasted corn, and sweet bibingka.
"This way," Kai pointed proudly. "The market. Everyone ends up here eventually."
Wooden stalls lined the square, some painted in peeling pastels. A halo-halo cart clinked with bottles of sago and leche flan. A man sold woven bracelets beside a woman arranging shell necklaces. Vendors called out greetings as if everyone were family.
"Best halo-halo in town," Kai declared.
"And worst," Kaia argued, licking her lips, "Too much leche flan."
"That's the best part!" Mateo snapped.
"Fight me."
"After halo-halo."
Niko shook his head. "Ignore them. The real best stall is Manang Pilar's bibingka." He pointed to a small stand glowing warmly. "Locals say she's guarded by dwarves because her bibingka never burns."
"Dwarves or not, she also gossips like a radio," Elio added. "Half the town's secrets come from her stall, no wonder her hair is so big."
They led Celine further, pointing things out as though mapping the veins of their own hearts. The bookshop Kaia loved, smelling faintly of old pages and sea salt. The skateboard park near the basketball court, where Kai and Mateo competed in tricks until someone fell. The pier where Elio liked to sit at sunrise, sketching waves in his notebook. Niko's uncle's sari-sari store, where they stole ice pops as kids.
"And this," Solana finally announced, pushing open a bamboo gate, "is our spot."
They stepped into a small cliffside clearing overlooking the sea. Palm trees framed the view, a wooden shack standing to one side. Inside were hammocks, surfboards stacked like trophies, and an old radio perched on a crate. A bonfire pit sat in the middle, ringed with stones smoothed by time.
"This is where we hang out," Solana explained simply. "Bonfires, music, swimming at night. No adults allowed."
"It's our HQ," Kai said proudly.
"Our kingdom," Kaia corrected.
"Our disaster zone," Mateo muttered, kicking a stray flip-flop aside.
Celine stood quietly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The sea stretched endlessly, reflecting the fading light in shades of violet and gold. For the first time since arriving, she felt something loosen in her chest.
"You like it?" Solana asked softly, stepping closer.
"…It's different," Celine admitted.
"Different good?"
Celine hesitated, then nodded. "Different good."
"Good." Solana smiled, tilting her head. "Then maybe you'll survive the summer after all."
The others were already arguing over who would build the first bonfire, their voices rising into the night. Celine, standing at the cliffside with the salty wind in her hair, thought quietly to herself—Maybe I will.