Crossing

Chapter One

The mango tree in Pia’s backyard stood like a king, tall, smug, and loaded with golden treasure. Abbie gripped the long bamboo pole like a weapon, jabbing upward with all the intensity of a pirate on a mango raid. At fourteen, she was all elbows, knees, and loud confidence, her laughter always a beat too wild for quiet neighborhoods.

“Careful!” Pia yelped as a mango dropped, grazing her shoulder.

“If it hits you, that’s just bonus vitamins,” Abbie cackled, poking another branch until two more fruits tumbled down.

They ended up sprawled beneath the tree, mango juice dripping down their chins, sticky fingers glinting in the sunlight. Technically, they should’ve been at school, but who wanted to spend the day handing out water bottles and pretending to care about boys throwing balls? They wanted adventure. And adventure, today, tasted like stolen mangoes.

Their laughter didn’t stay secret for long.

“There you are!” Pia’s grandmother, Nena, came charging across the yard, slipper raised high like some mythical weapon of doom. “Skipping school again! Acting like wild monkeys! Wait till your mothers hear—”

The girls didn’t wait to find out what their mothers would hear. Grabbing their mangoes, they bolted, shrieking, sprinting barefoot across the grass. Pia nearly tripped; Abbie snorted so hard she choked on her laughter. Behind them, Nena’s voice sliced through the air like thunder.

By the time they reached the riverbank, both girls were breathless, faces flushed, hair sticking to their temples. They collapsed into the grass, the world spinning with sunlight and freedom.

“One day you’ll get me killed,” Pia groaned, half laughing, half gasping.

“You’ll thank me when they put up a statue of us,” Abbie said, grinning. “The Mango Bandits of Barangay San Isidro.”

They howled. Real, ridiculous, belly laughter. The kind that felt like rebellion.

When the laughter faded, they lay back, watching the clouds float like lazy ghosts. After a while, Pia turned her head. “So what do you actually want to do? You know… after this. School. Life. Stuff.”

Abbie didn’t even pause. “Work with land. Plants. Farming. Landscaping maybe. I wanna stay in Bicol. Build something real. Something that grows.”

Pia snorted. “Wow. Deep. Next thing you’ll be giving a TED Talk.”

“Shut up,” Abbie said, throwing a mango pit at her. “I’m serious. Everyone wants to run to Manila, wear heels, and post about ‘city life.’ Me? I want mud under my nails and sunlight on my back.”

“Totally opposite of Roxanne,” Pia teased. “Miss DLSU Business Bandit herself.”

Abbie groaned. “Ugh. Don’t even start. She came out of the womb holding a résumé.”

They both burst out laughing again, loud, unfiltered, and a little mean, the kind of laughter only fourteen-year-olds can get away with. The river shimmered, the mango skins glowed in the grass, and for a moment, life felt infinite.

Sticky with juice and trouble, Abbie believed what she said. That she’d stay. That Bicol would hold her forever.

She didn’t know then how far the current would take her.