The Rebel’s Masterclass (Tagalog)

Chapter 3

The next couple of weeks passed in a tense, exhausting blur for Nabiya. Sa kabutihang palad, hindi na nga siya binalikan pa ni Rakan Velasco o ng pulisya tungkol sa nangyari sa convenience store. She went back to being a ghost, fading into the background of her heavy third-year architecture load. Half of her energy went into surviving the brutal critique of her design plates, habang ang natitirang kalahati naman ay napupunta sa pag-aalala kung paano pagkakasyahin ang natitirang budget ng pamilya niya para sa buong buwan.

The only reminder of that rainy night was the premium brand inhaler sitting safely on Leo’s bedside table, and the weird, annoying habit she developed of constantly checking her left shoulder whenever she walked past security guards.

"O, Nabi, bakit ka tulala riyan? Masisira 'yang tina-trace mo," untag ni Jenn, ang tanging blockmate na nakakausap niya kahit papaano rito sa university.

Nabiya blinked, shaking her head para gisingin ang sarili. "Ah, wala. Kulang lang sa tulog. Dumudulas lang 'yung tech pen ko."

"Sus, kanina mo pa tinititigan 'yang bintana eh. Sabagay, sino nga ba namang hindi mapapatitig sa labas ngayon?" Jenn giggled, pointing her drafting pencil toward the massive glass windows of the drafting room that overlooked the main university quadrangle.

Nabiya leaned forward slightly and looked down. Right under the shade of the towering acacia trees, a familiar black Ducati was parked. Rakan was leaning against it, scrolling through his phone with the exact same detached, elegant posture he had in that dark alleyway. He was wearing his usual black leather jacket over a plain white shirt. Kahit mula sa third floor, kitang-kita kung paano siya iwasan ng mga dumadaang estudyante habang patago naman siyang pinupicturan ng ilang mga sikat na freshies galing sa kabilang building.

"Swerte talaga ni Golda, 'no? Rich, handsome, and completely obsessed with her," Jenn sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "Balita ko, last weekend lang, dinala raw ni Rakan si Golda sa isang exclusive resort sa Palawan gamit 'yung yacht ng family niya."

Nabiya let out a soft, involuntary scoff, remembering how utterly miserable Rakan looked whenever Golda was whining in his ear. "Obsessed? Mukha nga siyang mamamatay sa bawat segundong magkasama sila eh."

Jenn gasped, hitting Nabiya’s arm playfully. "Grabe ka naman! Pero sabagay, may pagka-isnabero talaga si Rakan. Sabi nila, he’s just waiting to graduate before taking over his family's conglomerates. Ang yaman-yaman talaga."

"Conglomerates o kung anong ilegal na negosyo," bulong ni Nabiya sa sarili. She picked up her T-square again, completely cutting off the conversation. Wealth in San Castores City was never clean. As someone who grew up watching her mother work three laundry jobs just to pay for an overpriced apartment rent, Nabiya knew that people didn't get that rich by being good citizens. Wealthy people like Rakan Velasco only looked down on people like her.

But her temporary peace didn't even last until the end of the afternoon.

Right after her last major class ended at four, Nabiya headed straight toward the communal student lounge near the courtyard to use the high-speed university Wi-Fi. Kailangan niyang mag-research ng local zoning guidelines para sa plates niya, at wala silang kuryente o internet sa bahay ngayon dahil naputulan sila kahapon. She found a quiet corner table, unpacked her old, heavy laptop, and focused on her screen, completely tuning out the chatter around her.

Until a heavy, sharp thud rattled her small wooden table.

Nabiya jumped in her seat. A giant, freezing-cold plastic cup of a premium Starbucks frappuccino had been slammed down right beside her mousepad, condensation instantly leaking onto her printed research papers.

"Oops. Sorry. Hindi ko napansin na may tao pala riyan sa sulok," a dripping-sweet, completely fake voice announced.

Nabiya’s jaw clenched. She slowly looked up.

Golda Simons was standing right in front of her table, surrounded by three of her usual elite cheerleading friends. Golda was wearing a tailored pastel pink top that costs more than Nabiya's monthly allowance, her arms crossed as she looked down at Nabiya with an expression of pure, elitist disgust.

"Excuse me, pakikuha naman 'tong kape mo. Nababasa 'yung papers ko," Nabiya said, forcing her voice to stay calm and flat, even though her heart was starting to accelerate.

Golda didn't even move. Instead, she let out a loud, mocking laugh that caught the attention of the other students sitting nearby. "Are you talking to me? Wow. Transferee ka ba? O baka naman nakalimutan mo kung sino ang kinakausap mo, Torillo?"

Nabiya froze. She didn't think a girl like Golda would even know her name. "Ano bang problema mo, Simons? Kung trip mong mag-eskandalo, huwag dito sa mesa ko."

"My problem is you," Golda hissed, her face dropping the fake sweet smile, revealing a sharp, toxic expression. She leaned forward, placing both her manicured hands flat on the edge of Nabiya’s table. "Napakalaki ng unibersidad na 'to, pero bakit parang kahit saan ako lumingon, nakikita ko 'yang dugyot na mukha mo? Last week, nakita kitang umaaligid sa lockers ng College of Arts and Sciences. At kahapon naman, halos mabangga mo pa si Rakan sa may corridor."

Nabiya stared at her, completely dumbfounded. "Mabangga? Putcha, dumaan lang ako roon dahil papunta akong library. Hindi ko kasalanang doon din kayo naglalandian sa gitna ng daan."

"Don't you dare use that trashy language with me!" Golda snapped, her voice rising, drawing more eyes from across the lounge. Ang mga kaibigan niya ay nagsisimula na ring magbulungan at magtawanan sa likod niya. "Alam ko ang mga katulad mo, Nabiya. Isang hamak na scholarship student lang na nagpipilit magmukhang kawawa para mapansin. You’re targeting Rakan, aren't you? Parang 'yung mga gold-digger sa teleserye."

"Ano bang pinagsasabi mo? Tarantado ka ba?" Nabiya stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Anger was blazing through her chest now, completely wiping out her initial fear. "Wala akong pakialam sa boyfriend mo! At mas lalong wala akong pakialam sa'yo! Pakialaman mo 'yang kape mo bago ko 'yan itapon sa mukha mo!"

"You b***h!" Golda’s eyes flashed with pure rage. In a split-second, vindictive move, Golda grabbed the freezing cup of frappuccino and flipped it entirely over Nabiya’s old laptop and her design plates.

The thick, sticky brown liquid cascaded over the keyboard, short-circuiting the power light instantly, before completely ruining the structural blueprints Nabiya had spent three sleepless nights drawing.

"Oh my god, accident. Shucks," Golda mocked, wiping her hands with a wet tissue her friend quickly handed her. "Ganyan talaga kapag humaharang sa daan ko. Bagay lang 'yan sa mga basurang katulad mo."

Nabiya stared at her ruined laptop, the screen going completely black, and the ink on her plates bleeding into a useless, dark smudge. Her hands began to shake—not because she wanted to cry, but because she wanted to literally tear Golda's perfect hair out. Months of hard work, stripped away in a second by a girl who didn't even know the meaning of the word 'struggle.'

"Putang—" Nabiya raised her hand, completely ready to slap the smug look off Golda’s face, consequences be damned.

"What the f**k is going on here?"

A sharp, booming command shattered the tension in the lounge.

The crowd of students instantly parted, and Rakan Velasco stepped into the center of the scene. His grey eyes were unusually dark, fixed entirely on the mess on the table, before shifting to Golda, and then finally landing on Nabiya, whose hand was still frozen mid-air.

Golda’s expression changed in a heartbeat, morphing into a pitiful, victimized pout as she ran straight to Rakan’s side, grabbing his leather jacket. "Babe! Good thing you’re here! This psycho scholarship girl just tried to attack me! I accidentally spilled my drink, and she literally cussed at me and tried to hit me!"

Rakan didn't move. He didn't wrap his arm around Golda. He just stood there, looking down at Golda’s hand on his jacket with absolute, freezing contempt.

"Let go of me, Golda," Rakan said, his voice quiet but dangerously sharp.

Golda blinked, caught off guard. "Babe? What?"

Rakan forcefully pulled his arm away from her grip, stepping right past his own girlfriend. He walked straight toward Nabiya’s table. The entire lounge was completely silent, everyone holding their breath to watch the rich heir destroy the poor scholarship student.

Instead, Rakan stopped right in front of Nabiya. He looked at the ruined, dripping laptop, then at the thick brown stains on Nabiya’s oversized uniform. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a clean, expensive white handkerchief, and held it out to her.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind, Golda?" Rakan finally spoke, his voice echoing through the silent room as he turned his head to glare at his girlfriend. "Who the hell gave you the right to act like a piece of absolute trash on this campus?"

Golda’s face turned completely pale, her jaw dropping in front of her laughing friends. "R-Rakan? Bakit mo siya pinagtatanggol? She’s nobody! She’s just a dirty scholar!"

"Shut the f**k up, Golda," Rakan snapped, his English cussing cutting through the air like a knife. He didn't even yell, but the sheer coldness in his tone made Golda step back. "I told you a hundred times to stop bringing your pathetic high-school drama into my face. You look embarrassing."

"Rakan!" Golda screamed, her voice cracking with pure humiliation as tears of frustration finally welled up in her eyes. "You’re taking her side?! I’m your girlfriend! My dad is the Mayor!"

"I don't give a s**t if your dad is the president," Rakan countered smoothly, his grey eyes flashing with dangerous malice. He stepped closer to Golda, leaning down slightly so only she could hear his next words clearly. "And if you don't shut your mouth right now about who I am or who my family is, I will personally make sure your dad loses the next election. Do you understand me?"

Golda choked back a sob, completely horrified. She looked at Rakan, then shot a look of pure, unadulterated venom at Nabiya, before turning around and sprinting out of the student lounge, her barking clique chasing after her.

The rest of the students slowly began to disperse, whispering frantically about the massive scandal that had just unfolded.

Nabiya stood frozen behind her table, still clutching her ruined notebook. She looked down at the expensive white handkerchief Rakan was still holding out to her. Inis na inis siya, pero mas lalo siyang nalilito.

"Hindi ko kailangan 'yan," Nabiya muttered in Taglish, her voice trembling with leftover adrenaline. "Salamat sa pagpapakita, pero kaya ko ang sarili ko. Hinding-hindi ako magpapasalamat sa'yo."

Rakan let out a short, cynical chuckle, tossing the handkerchief carelessly onto her sticky table. He leaned in closer, his grey eyes locking onto her hazel ones with a sudden, intense familiarity that made her breath hitch.

"I didn't do it for you, Torillo," Rakan whispered, a faint, mocking smirk playing on his lips as he used her name for the first time. "I just really hate loud noises. And besides... your technique in handling an argument is just as pathetic as your shoplifting."

Before Nabiya could even process the fact that he actually knew who she was this whole time, Rakan turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her furious, dripping with coffee, and completely targeted by the most dangerous girl on campus.