WE'VE GOT HISTORY

EMMY MENDOZA'S POV

"O. M. G, he's coming here!"

"Don't stare at him!" I cautioned Sara.

"Why not? He's cute," she said, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes at me. It irritated me.

"Well, stop anyway," I muttered as I pretended to concentrate on the book open before me. I couldn't concentrate.

I'm not sure why. So, what if D. J now goes to my school and had some classes with me. He probably didn't recognize me. And even if he did, there was no way he would know I stalked him on the internet.

Then, he was right there. At our table.

"Hi."

I think the entire cafeteria stopped to pay attention. But it may have been my imagination.

"Hi, there!" Sara beamed at him. I was going to cut off all her hair, if she didn't stop twirling it around her finger in that "groupie" way.

"D. J, right?"

"Yes." He smiled at her. "You're the first person I've met since I came back who actually took the time to confirm my name during our first conversation."

She laughed. "I'm Sara."

Suddenly, I was at their wedding, holding a glass of champagne and raising a toast;

'From the moment they met and exchanged names, I just knew that this was where I'd be in ten years time...'

Please.

I almost scoffed out loud. I was 'not' jealous.

"This is my friend, Emmy. I believe you remember her from first period," Sara said. "Thank you for that, by the way. I plan on telling the whole class to contribute money so that we can build a statue of you. We'll dedicate it to Professor Acosta."

D.J went a little pale at the idea. I swear, I saw him shudder.

"I don't think that's necessary," he said, wide- eyed.

I don't bother to hide my smile. It's good that he's scared and sufficiently weirded out.

He looked at me and I let the smile slip away.

He smiled.

"Hello, Emmy."

"Hi," I grunted.

"It's been a while," he said, not at all discouraged by my displayed lack of enthusiasm.

"Yeah."

"Do you two know each other?"

"Yes," D.J said at the same time I said, "Not really."

Sara gave me an enquiring look.

"It was a long time ago," I explained. "And we met only briefly."

"I'm sure I left a much bigger impression than that on you, M. K," D. J said with a frown.

"Sorry to disappoint," I said with a shrug.

"M. K?" Sara asked with curiosity.

"It's a stupid nickname he came up with," I told her. I was cool and all chill on the outside, but inside I was screaming: 'Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! He remembers me! It's been seven years and he remembers me!'

"It's not stupid and if I remember correctly, you loved it," he protested, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"At the time," I interjected, acting like I couldn't hold his eyes because...well, because of anything other than the truth. I was nervous and my palms were sweaty. Was the sun shining brighter all of a sudden? And gosh, just look at him! Why did he have to get so gorgeous since I last saw him? 'But wait...wait a minute. Have I seen him recently? And his voice, where have I heard his voice before?' The image of the crazy guy I'd met by the beach flashed through my head but that couldn't be him, could it? The weirdo had been wearing glasses, and it had been dark but still... 'The weirdo can't be D.J Serrano, can he?' The moment I had the thought, I couldn't un-think it.

Worse yet, I could actually see it.

"Sit with us, D. J," Sara interjected, cutting through my thoughts. "Don't mind Emmy. She likes to act tough but if you met a long time ago and she still remembers so much about you, then you're right. You made a big impression on her. Only God knows how you managed to do that," my best friend added.

She was right. I just didn't care. I couldn't afford distractions at school. And when I wasn't at school- even when I was, sometimes- my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of reviving Emilio's Kitchen. But that was before.

Today, I'd lied to Professor Acosta, and I'd done it because of him. For some reason, I cared. I remembered all I'd read about his family in the papers, over the years; the news about the car crash two years ago and his mother's death, how his father was still in the hospital and his brother had to take over the company. But I didn't say anything.

D. J took a seat at our table. He was seating right across from me. Facing me squarely with that intense look only he was capable of, he answered Sara's question. "I took her to the beach."

Then, he went on to tell the rest of the story. "It was a bright sunny day."

"It was just a normal day, Crazy," I scoffed. He gave me a look that shut me up immediately; it was the kind of stray-bullet kind of look that hot guys gave out randomly, when they didn't know that they were hot. There was some surprise in there too, like he knew that I recognized him from last night. But, for goodness' sakes, I didn't want to talk about last night. Not yet, anyway. I didn't know what to say; "okay, so you know how we met just one time when we were kids, and you promised to marry me someday on the beach because we were two dumb children who had seen too many telenovelas? Well, you don't know but I've been secretly stalking you online for years, and because I'm a nerd who knows you used to call yourself 'Fireblade' when you were younger, I kinda think you secretly write this blog I like. Aaaand, by the way, did you actually tell me you wanted to drown yourself at the said beach, where we met? Now, why would you want to do that, D.J?"

While all these thoughts swam in my brain, D.J continued to speak.

"I, my mother and my brother- Enrique- came to spend the holiday with my abuela Anita- we call her Lalanita-"

"Where from?" Sara asked.

"Manila."

"Ooh! I love Manila. What happened next?"

"We went to eat at this restaurant that served some of the best dishes in the entire province. It's about forty-five minutes away from the ocean, and there was this little girl my age who said she has never been to the beach."

"That's terrible," Sara said, casting me a sympathetic look.

"Terrible storytelling, you mean." I deadpanned. "This was like seven years ago. Trust me, I've been to the beach plenty of times since then."

"What happened next?" Sara asked once more. For some reason, she was really interested in this story.

"Nothing," I said before D. J could respond. "There I was, minding my own business-"

"She was reading a book," he interrupted, wearing an amused smile.

"Of course she was," Sara added knowingly.

I ignored the both of them. Or at least, I did a good job of pretending to.

"As I was saying, there I was minding my own business when this kid walked over to me and introduced himself."

I remembered it like it was yesterday.

"And we talked," he said, without going into details.

I liked that.

That day we'd talked so much. He'd told me about his dad, his mother, and his relationship with his older brother, the best friend he loved like a brother... his dreams of becoming an engineer, among other things. In turn, I'd told him about my family; my dad's struggle to keep the business afloat, my mother's prolonged absences, my dreams of becoming a business mogul. After spending just that day together, I'd thought he was my best friend. I never found that kind of instant connection with anyone else until Dad adopted his sister's son, Inigo and he came to live with us. And after that, the only time I've clicked so fast with someone was when I met Sara.

"Then, he gave me a stupid nickname," I simply said, instead of saying all of this.

"Emmy Mikay Mendoza has way too many M's," D. J whined, the same way he had the day I met him. "M. K suits you better."

I smiled wistfully, like the sentimental fool I was. Normally, I wasn't a sentimental fool but something about that day, about D.J felt...precious.

"He took me to see the beach for the very first time ever, and then he's gone. The end. I never saw him again. He didn't even say goodbye."

Until I said it out loud, I didn't know I was that bitter about it. But it was the way I felt. I didn't get close to people very often. Because whenever I did and they let me down or just left, I never really got over it. D.J said he had made a big impression on me. I just didn't think he understood how deep it had been, for absolutely no reason.

'I'm being silly over something trivial that happened a long time ago,' I told myself.

But then, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Emmy."

And he sounded so sincere.

"Water under the bridge," I said, dismissing my anger with a wave of my hand.

"I mean it," he said soberly.

"I know."

Maybe I was ready to forgive him. Heck, he had been a little kid too.

I told myself to let it go.

Then I offered him a small smile. "Welcome to St. Lorenzo High School, D. J."

"Thank you."

It was a start.

After school, I rushed over to Emilio's Kitchen. I changed out of my school uniform at the back, then I went to take over the register from Jake- one of the waiters. He was friends with Inigo and took night classes at the local university, but what made him a good bet was the fact that he was a hard worker and didn't charge much.

I had to do something to help my father's restaurant. If I didn't do it soon, in this last year before I graduated from high school, Jose Hernandez would turn it into a parking lot.

I was just getting settled when a customer walked in.

It was D.J Serrano

FIREBLADE'S BLOG (Two Years Ago - The First Post)

"Hey guys!

I don't know what to say. I've been told to journal or start a blog, so I'm just here typing away.

It's the first Mother's Day since my mom died and I don't know what to say, but I can feel it. All I can think about is my mom.

I have this fancy dinner planned out in my head. Sushi, Ramen noodles and Sashimi, along with some side dishes. All of them...made from scratch. My mother would have loved it. She adored Japanese food.

But I can't do all that for her today.

Maybe I would have written her a song as well.

I told my therapist that I loved to write and he jumped on the idea. He's the one that suggested that I start a blog. I'm taking the advice because it makes sense. There are things that I would love to share with the world. But I...I don't really know what I'd like to talk about.

Actually, I do.

Do you ever get this feeling when you catch a whiff of something-a scent, an aroma in the air- and suddenly, memories just start to unfold? Do you ever feel like you're lost, because one morning you woke up and your entire world has imploded around you? And you're there, staring at the ruins- just staring, because you know that the moment you touch anything, nothing can ever remain the same again? If you feel that way, then don't bother to continue reading my posts. Because there's already one of us. And that's plenty enough. This misery is not looking for company.

I'm going to go ahead and make the dishes. Then, I'll write it all down. The steps, the recipes, the ingredients...and when I'm done, I'd like to take pictures of everything.

Let's talk about that. Yes, let's talk about food. Come to think of it, a lot of my happy memories involve food.

So I've decided.

My name is Fireblade, and I'm here to talk about food."