I watched the indecision in his almost-black pupils, over whether he could keep the hurt inside himself. But as his light and smart brother, in a culture that taught siblings to follow a strict hierarchy, neither of us had doubt that if I called him ugly, he was ugly.

The tears I expected flowed out of those eyes, though I was surprised at the loudness of Tonton’s cries when he opened his mouth, and the pleasure I felt in hearing them.

“Stop bothering your brother!” Nanay yelled from the kitchen, halfhearted and indulgent.

“One little two little three little Indians,” I chanted as I tapped my palm against my brother’s mouth, transforming his cry into an Indian call. This made him wail even more, as only shallow, halting breaths interrupted his cries. A tiny part of me wanted to stop, but a bigger part wanted to cause him the worst pain, arbitrary and unfair, even when the many beatings of my own childhood made me wince at any sign of violence, unable to even watch mundane action movies. No, words and smarts were my weapons, taunts and clever forms of torture. I kept calling Tonton ugly, kept chanting and tapping his mouth, until Nanay Coro ran into the room to take my brother away.

—

Soon enough it was the first day of school, and as I buttoned up my uniform in the mirror shortly after sunrise, a short-sleeved white cotton shirt with the school insignia embroidered on the pocket, it felt comforting to be dressed like everyone else, as if I was just an ordinary schoolkid. There were no fantasies behind the glass, no dreams of a fabled life in America, just the reality of a Filipino student about to start sixth grade in a place he loved. Going to school also made my life in Talacsan feel defined and permanent, clear evidence that I’d taken control of my future.

A white van stopped outside our house and took me, my brother, and my youngest aunt to an L-shaped, four-story concrete building, which faced a paved courtyard and our municipal church on the other side. This was St. Paul’s, the private Catholic school well-known for sending its graduates to prestigious colleges in Manila like UP Diliman and Ateneo, the Jesuit school Papa attended before he dropped out.