When Cocoy Became Kikay

By C. P. Santi

Cocoy’s not-so-secret dream is to one day become a gun-toting, ass-kicking secret agent. But she has another dream—and this time, even her best friends don’t have a clue—she dreams of being with someone.
Problem is, she finds out that Jaime Arguelles, a.k.a. the guy she’d been secretly crushing on for years, likes girls who—well—like pink. To Cocoy’s logical mind, there’s only one solution: it’s time to go girly.
After all, how hard can it be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. P. Santi
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311677266

C. P. Santi

C. P. Santi is a Filipina writer based in Tokyo, Japan. She is a wife to an engineer / musician / jokester and a full-time mom to two energetic boys. She loves cooking and feeding people, gorging on chocolate, watching J-doramas, belting it out in the karaoke box, and running around the house playing tickle tag. She also loves dreaming up stories about the people she meets.Be Careful What You Wish For is her first finished novel. Please watch out for Kaye and Tessa’s stories ;-)In another life, she is also an architect and academic.She loves to hear from her readers! C. P. Santi blogs about writing and creative stuff at http://thejapayukichronicles.blogspot.jp. You can also view her other works in progress at http://www.wattpad.com/user/cpsanti

Book preview

When Cocoy Became Kikay

by C. P. Santi

Copyright

When Cocoy Became Kikay

by C. P. Santi

Copyright 2015 C. P. Santi

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are all products of the writer's imagination

Cover art and layout by Mabel Garcia

(https://instagram.com/ilovethemoon/)

Edited by Luwi Infante

Fox in the snow font by Roland Huse (http://rolandhuse.com / www.dafont.com)

Line and sand font by Sarah Morris (www.dafont.com)

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Glossary

About C. P. Santi

Connect with C. P. Santi

Excerpt from Be Careful What You Wish For

Chapter 1

It requires more courage to suffer than to die.

—Napoleon Bonaparte

The sky was overcast, but the air that swirled around us was warm and heavy. The smell of freshly mown grass mixed with that of freshly dug earth. It smelled of rain—and death. People, dressed mostly in muted hues, stood silently, watching and waiting.

The silence was broken by the sound of multiple rifle reports. The gunshots hammered reality into place for me.

He was gone. The colonel was gone.

I concentrated on holding back my tears and standing at attention as my father’s coffin was lowered into the gaping pit in the ground.

Goodbye, sir.

Gone was the man who insisted things be done double-time. There would be no more reminders on correct posture and complaints about sloppy performance. No more lectures on eating a square meal. No more trips to the shooting range or outdoor camping expeditions. No more war stories before bedtime.

The gun salute seemed to go on and on.

Full military honors. I hope you’re happy, sir.

You’d think I’d have prepared myself for this by now. Col. Miguel Suarez’s fondest wish was to die in the line of duty (as his elder brother and grandfather had) and to be given full military honors at his funeral. Well, he had gotten half his wish at least. Wherever he was right now (and I so hoped the climate was temperate), I knew that a part of him was irked that it had been a heart attack—and not a bullet—that had taken his life.

Beside me, Lucy dabbed her eyes. Lucy, a stylist based in Los Angeles, was really my tita, my father’s youngest sister. When I called to tell her what had happened, she promptly took the earliest available flight back home. I didn’t know her very well, other than fleeting visits, the occasional postcard, and gifts in the mail. But she had been a real comfort—organizing the funeral, contacting friends and relatives, and generally talking to everyone.

At least I was able to grieve in silence and envelop myself in numbness.

He was a good person. He was a good soldier. All morning people had repeated those words (or versions thereof) to me. However, Col. Miguel Suarez was way more than that. He had been my hero, my idol, the person I most wanted to please.

He had been a good father. He was never openly demonstrative, but he had been caring nonetheless. He was a man of honor and principle . . . the sort of person who made you want to be the best you could be. He had always been my guiding star.

And now that he was gone, I felt lost . . . adrift and thrown off course. What do I do now, sir?

I blinked. Okay, enough already. I’m not usually so emo, but I guess death has that effect on people. I just hoped this feeling of melancholy wasn’t permanent.

A hand clamped on my shoulder, startling me. You okay, Cocoy? Paulo asked.

I gave him a curt nod. Someone on my other side nudged me. I looked around to see Dags shifting from foot to foot. It’s okay to cry, dude. We won’t judge.

I shook my head, my ponytail swaying. You know I hardly ever cry, I reminded him. Mastering my emotions had been part of my father’s training. There was a time and a place for everything, he used to say. Tears were best kept private.

Dags shrugged. Well if you suddenly decide you want to, this is the best time to do it.

I can cry for you, Coy. Behind Dags, Joel suddenly erupted into loud, noisy (and obviously fake) sobs.

I hit him. Hard. Shut up, Joel! Sure enough, more than a couple of people, including Lucy, who had been shaking the hand of General Olazo, were now staring at us.

"He . . . he was really close to my