Sugar Canes

My hands were trembling as I pull the long, slender stalk of sugar cane. I had some piles of sugar canes in my back and a heap of five or six lying on that grassy area of Mang Timo’s cane plantation. My friends were becoming impatient. “C’mon! That stupid old man is coming! Badik was yelling at me. She and the other four were standing outside that weak and old bamboo fence waiting for me, her brother Ramil, Fe, Bukoy and Roland. “Hurry up, leave the other ones.”
I almost fainted when I heard their shouts, my heart was immensely pounding, Badik jumped up the fence and helped me carry my harvest, I mean my stolen sugar canes and we hurried back to our hide-out as fast as our bony legs could. I was running feeling like my feet were not touching that grassy field. I was panting loudly, from afar I heard the angry shouts of the owner of the plantation and we crossed the bamboo bridge hanging limply above the river. I am acrophobic but the sight of the stirring bamboo bridge wasn’t much horrific than the angry shouts of the old man. We reached our little hide-out. It was a small hut that we once built, the covering was made of dried coconut leaves and small pieces of wood that we stole from the heap of firewood scattered to dry on the ground by our T.H.E. teacher, Mr. Dapusala. That was also the day that we escaped Mr. Bognot’s class, our first crazy adventure.
We were of the same company in our first attempt to steal sugar canes. It had been only two weeks earlier when we were amusing ourselves with spider gambling, Ramil, the oldest of the six of us arrived munching those chopped pieces of sweet sugar canes. Fe, the smallest toddler of the group was asking for a bit of those canes but he just ignored her. He said that we could get and taste more of what he had if we would go with him. Next, we find ourselves inside the plantation of Mang Timo, grabbing as many sugar canes as we can. Badik was bringing a sharp bolo, insisting it would help us get many stalks easily. As she tried to slash one of the standing canes, the end of the bolo sailed through my right thumbnail. I felt like crying but I concealed the tears for the sake of my stupid bravery. I pretended as if I was not hurt, but deep inside I wanted to crush her in my thumbnails. She was such an obnoxious little brat, saying that if I am brave I should not cry then. I just sipped the blood flowing from my wounded nail.
That was our second stealing adventure. I was lying inside our hide-out, still panting and the image of Mang Timo shouting came flooding back awakening my mind. As I looked at my fingernail I realized how pathetic and crazy I was. How I wish I didn’t involve myself in these wicked misadventure. How I wish I stayed in Ms. Bognot’s class, sitting quietly until I rock myself to sleep. How I prefer more to see her in front of me staring at my face with her big eyes, imagining those of a tarsier or hearing her sharp yelling “You better go home and dig camote!”
Actually, that day’s misadventure started innocently enough. It was Friday and we were having our recess time. The group was sitting on wooden stools in the shade of the old mango tree at the front of the canteen.
“I guess we should do something crazy today,” Badik said, “it’s the last day of class, Ms. Bognot would not mind if we would skip her class, besides we’re mark present on her class record this morning, what do you think?”
“That’s too much of us,” I replied hesitantly. “Remember what misfortune we had that day we tried to escape her class? Look at my finger—”
“Keep calm bro, that was long ago when the witch Bognot’s turned into bubbles, once upon a time when Magellan arrived in Japan.” Roland said in his confident smile as if those were serious and truthful declarations!
“What about creeping in Mang Jose’s cornfield?” Badik interrupted, “I saw those fresh corns perfect to be cooked and eaten. Hmmm yummy!”
“Nice idea bro (referring to his sister), guess you’re getting smarter after sipping the juicy stalks of sugar cane last week in Mang Timo’s backyard.” Ramil was laughing. “But another sneak in the sugarcane plantation I think is better, that’s easier than cooking ears of corns!”
“I’m up for that!” Bukoy exclaimed. “Let’s go!”
Ramil was the leader or should I say the boss of the group since he was the oldest among of us. I always doubted his ideas because they always seemed to land us in trouble. The ‘shit’ at the vegetable plots of Mr. Dapusala’s garden? Ramil’s idea. Stealing coconuts in exchange for a Aling Diday’s hotcakes? Ramil’s idea. Ramil, Ramil and Ramil’s. And now, I’m afraid Badik is on the track of leading evil plans.

My mother, a sixth grade teacher in our school, always have a long broom made of coconut leaves at the back of our door. If she knew I had done another mystery in school together with my ‘good’ friends, I would always received very excellent, red remarks in my legs coming from that hot bunch of coconut leaves that had landed perfectly on my delicate skin! While my father, such a responsible father; he always guards our house all day! Early in the morning he got a toast of lambanog from his friends, being the first to be knocked down, he took himself comfortable in the wooden couch outside our house, sleeping until the sun set; that’s his perfect way of guarding our antique house! In the evening, after my mother told him all my escapades, he would remind me, “Your friends are fine ones, and they just need some help and guidance.” That made me silent, “And if you go with them again, you’re going to need some help too.” You couldn’t imagine his help would come in a form of a size 38, leather black belt that he had inherited from his grandfather and a reward of fantastic, heavy books. The books will be my penitential objects. I would be kneeling in front of the altar, spreading my hands, and on top of them are the books. That would last until I would repent for all the wrongdoings I’ve done and then I would promise that I won’t do it again.
I’m not that evil I admit, I just want to hang out with my “good friends” for fun. We would throw jokes at each other. “Who among you can tell me the English word for santol?” I remember Bukoy in one of his jokes that day we ransacked the ripe santols of his Lola Meding. “What’s that?” I asked “Didn’t you got rid of all the corns in your tummy?” I was teasing him. I shouted, “sirit!” And he would laugh out his toothless mouth. “Eh di where dude?” We would then crack in outbursts of laughter.
Slowly my panting vanished; I was calmer. I remembered my benign mother and my venerable father, what if I would bring them these delicious sugar canes? Hey ma and pa look! here are sweet canes for you, it’s stolen, how ‘bout a whipping. I felt at ease to go home immediately and decided that would be my last stealing adventures with my “good friends” and draw a letter of P-R-O-M-I-S-E in the air.
After that sweet crunching and sipping of canes in our hide out, I went straight home. I didn’t bring canes but later my father found out about that silly stealing and running from Mang Timo. Because of my carelessness, I left my notebook in our hide-out; printed at the front page in a beautiful handwritten of my mother is my name.