SEVEN
“Girl! You look amazing!”
Nicole Martin, their batch president, was seated behind the registration table that evening, rocking a dark blonde bob and a pink dress that complemented her kayumanggi complexion. She quickly waved Kalila over and handed her a pen so she could sign her name on the registration sheet.
“And you haven’t aged a day, Nic,” Kalila commented as she wrote her name on the sheet of paper. Datu’s name was nowhere on the page, making her wonder if he had arrived early, or ditched the idea of actually going.
“Thanks, Kali. Go, go…” Nicole gave her a copy of the programme and motioned to the door. “The program’s about to start.”
Fancy was the first word that came to mind when Kalila stepped into the ballroom, impressed by the splashes of reds and golds over the pris
