Fallen Catch

By Neslie Buena-Bobis

Imagine this: Two highschool seniors in rivalry, a Randall Reaping and an Anthony Sowing. For years, the two had been at it, playing one prank after another, tirelessly putting the other to shame. So once and for all, Randall vows to make Anthony pay, by making the latter’s younger sister, Anbree, fall for him. Then he would be brilliantly breaking two hearts with one scheme. So the ultimate revenge ensues, and it appears that Randall’s plan is working. That is, until Anbree finds him out, concocting an equally clever counter-attack. Then it’s a whole different ballgame they’re all playing.

But one wonders, in a game where hearts are placed as bets, can anyone really win?

And what happens if we add to this chaos a bestfriend with a secret crush, a buddy with a neurotic eating impulse, a twin with a chameleon persona, and a playmaker with the wisdom that move minds and influence souls? Will things fall right back to place? Or will things fall apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neslie Buena-Bobis
• Release date: Apr 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463480007

Neslie Buena-Bobis

Neslie Buena-Bobis. A Christian. A wife and mother. A medical doctor. A psychology degree holder. A former class dancer. A to-do-list-maker. A journal keeper. A Christmas season lover. An occasionally indifferent romantic. An aspiring influencer. And a hopeful dreamer... of more beautiful things to come.

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FALLEN CATCH

A Novel

By Neslie Buena-Bobis

Copyright 2020 Neslie Buena-Bobis

Smashwords Edition

Book Cover designed from Canva

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended solely to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

FALLEN CATCH

How do you think it feels to be falling… falling…

falling deep into your very own trap?

JEREMIAH

This is a story about sowing and reaping. But this is not my story. This is a story of a group of high school students living on the outskirts of Metro Manila before the turn of the 21st century. They are about to learn more about themselves than they have in years—a learning that will all push them to grow up a little faster, and maybe, a little harder.

This is a story, if played right, will allow for a great harvest to bloom.

ANBREE

I’m on my knees, in our backyard, collecting worms. Yes, you heard me right: worms. Practically, there are only two seasons in the Philippines: wet and dry. It’s full-blown rainy days now, which means that the soil is wet, teeming with these earthly creepy crawlers—exactly the kind of resource we need for the job at hand. You see, I’m helping my big brother take revenge on his greatest and longest-running enemy, who through the years has become mine as well. I’m not certain as to why, where and when it all started, but for a couple of years now, the battle is still as fierce and as daringly tangible; even me and my friends have been dragged along into it, just as committed to the fight like it was our very own honor we’re rooting for.

It all started two years ago. While me and my friends were playing monopoly in our living room, Anthony—my big brother—came barging thru the front door declaring his need for soldiers. He said he was building an army against the evils of a Randall Reaping. None of us bothered to ask why or who, because seeing my big brother dripping in frothy orange liquid made all of us want to join his army.

And so the war began. For almost two years, we have dallied in the scary and disgusting, to serve one purpose: Make Randall pay. And his camp, for the same period, had done nothing short of the same.

The latest prank that our common nemesis played on us was putting itching powder in my brother’s soccer jersey right before the game; rendering my brother basically useless, having the need to scratch away during the first half of the game. I know. The lack of creativity is astounding. Still, that attack only means one thing; as of this very second, the ball is on our court. It’s our turn to retaliate. My big brother’s plan is to put worms and cockroaches in Randall’s bag. I realize we’re not geniuses either. But it’s still payback. It’s more than good enough for this game. Oh, I can’t wait to see his reaction when he sees these critters crawling in his bag. I know we’ll get him good—again!

But before I ramble on with my messy choice of afternoon activities, I’m Anbree Sowing, sixteen years old. I’ve got two brothers. One is Anthony. He’s my oldest brother. He’s seventeen years old, a senior at Zalboni Highschool. All of us go to school there, including my two best friends and my twin brother. Yup, I have a twin—a fraternal twin. His name is Andy. He’s my second older brother, two minutes older. We look opposite of each other. First, he’s a boy and I’m a girl. Talk about a major difference. He’s taller than me, a good five inches taller. He’s got chlorinated golden brown hair, while I have ebony black hair. His eyes are a good murky black, while mine are hazel brown. He loves swimming while I never got to learn. He’s got blemish-free skin, while I sport a couple of scars and bruises here and there.

Our appearances may look like we came from completely different wombs but our differences end at just about that. Andy and I enjoy playing basketball, watching movies, eating pizza and we both have the same set of friends. We both like trying out new things—be it some new cuisine or some new adventure. But I have to say, my brother takes on new to a whole different level. He experiments with a new persona, roughly every month. The science geek, the jock, the beat-boxing rapper, the tortured artist, even the teenage vampire—he has tried them all. Me and dad are thinking—and hoping– it’s all a phase; because we truly are scared in what non-creative way he’ll reinvent himself next. But I do love my twin. I know he’s got my back, and I’ve got his. Our two other best friends are Tiny Tim and Luke.

Tim is Tiny Tim because he’s ironically not. He’s always eating, munching on a bag of chips, chewing on a bubble gum, or sipping a can of soda. He wears a belt bag where he obsessively arranges and packs his snack stash: sweets on the right flank, juices on the left flank, and chips right on the front belly. Snacking is one of his dearest hobbies; one we fear for his adult life. He’s very insecure, which is understandable considering the amount of bullying he experienced as a kid. It took me three years to get him to open up, and for him to share his snacks with me. It’s just sad that other people can’t readily see that behind that cuddly tummy, he has an even bigger heart to match. He cares and he listens—in the most sincere way; and once you gained his trust, he’s about as reliable as the sun rising from the east every single time.

Our other friend is Luke. He’s sort-of a girl magnet; and he does a real good job feigning he doesn’t know. I’m not sure what girls see in him. He’s a tall, tan guy with a swimmer’s physique and a set of tantalizing copper brown eyes. He’s very athletic, a responsible student, and one of those good ‘ol Mr. Nice Guy. Well, I guess I could vaguely understand their interest in him. Luke is one of those boy-next-door types who hardly speaks unless absolutely necessary. I think he’s reserving his voice for saying the more important stuff, which, let’s admit, often comes after high school. He is much like Tiny Tim in many ways, only in a different package; because he, too, has a big gentle heart.

The four of us—me, my twin brother, Tiny Tim and Luke—are all of the same age. We’re a bunch of high school juniors, who are trying the hardest to figure things out, within and outside of ourselves. Altogether we’re part of a gang, not the kidnapping/murdering kind, but a plain old wholesome group of people who love hanging out with each other. Collectively, Anthony has dubbed us The Rebounds. The name came about one miraculous afternoon of basketball. Anthony played referee for us that day. We were playing two on two, Luke and Tim on one team, Andy and I on the other.

Somehow, Physics has decided it would be funny to have the ball that I was passing off to Andy, to have ended up bouncing off Tim’s shoulder, then atop Andy’s head, before finally making it to the basket for a refutable two points. It was truly uncanny. None of us stopped laughing for five minutes. And since we have always bounced off each other for company and support, The Rebounds seems more than an apt choice.

Together, we conquer the streets of our small suburbanized town with our athleticism and uniqueness. Together, we keep ourselves from dying of boredom, at least before our lives truly begin, which is around 40 as I’ve heard. High school is this bubble that we’re all trying to pop out of alive, with more struggle than others. That’s why we keep to each other’s sides, getting our strength in numbers.

So that’s that. After we’ve collected all the invertebrates and arthropods that we need, we placed them all in a jar— a chockfull of slinking revenge ready to be served on a terrorizing platter. It seems like child’s play really, an immature game where the ball of vengeance and pride is rocketed back and forth in a meaningless match. But for each of us involved, it’s a matter of high school life and death; and if you’ve ever been to high school, I think you’d understand.

ANTHONY

Guys, you ready? I asked The Rebounds as they all nodded in unison. I’m standing right beside Randall’s locker, all set for the much-choreographed plan. I knew I could always count on these guys to get the job done. I couldn’t sleep at all last night, tossing and turning in excitement. I got goose bumps just looking at the concoction and that was when they were still within the bottle. It’ll be a surefire classic!

The hall is packed, exactly the quality and quantity of audience we wanted. For full impact, a large audience is always a necessary ingredient. I gave the guys a final nod of affirmation when finally, Randall enters the hall! He makes his way through the crowd with his chin held high—oozing with arrogance. He was making the usual round of small talk and high fives. Man, I really hate this guy. I go to soccer practice with him at least three times a week, but for the love of me, I truly can’t stand him!

Arriving at his locker, he readily saw me leaning idly by, waiting for him. I could see he immediately straightened up his back, like my presence was a warning siren that just alerted him for an oncoming disaster. But of course, he wouldn’t let on his concern; he’s too arrogant for that. And man, he can’t shut his mouth. "Well, well, well... look who’s here. My ever-lovable, trust-worthy friend! What can I do for you on this surprise but always, aaal-waays, pleasant visit of yours?"

"Happy to hear it’s pleasant."

"Sure, sure it is. But to what do I owe this pleasure?" He’s really laying on the sarcasm thick. I will have to take two, three showers when I get home if I want to get rid of it. I could see The Rebounds gearing into position as Randall fall into oblivion of the world around him. He carelessly put his knapsack down. Wrong move, dude, wrong move; but right on cue. Thank you for that.

Luke and Anbree stealthily passed behind him, quickly grabbing the innocent backpack a few inches off the floor, inconspicuously tossing it to Andy by the corner. Andy then urgently put in our little surprise collection into the bag. Great! Locked and loaded.

"Alright dude, what’s the deal? Cut the crap. What are you reaaally doing here?! He looked between me and his locker, pausing momentarily as he grips the locker door. I could almost hear his brain thinking. Sorry, but wrong conclusion. Does he really think we’re not creative enough so as to repeat the same prank? Come on, he gotta give us more credit than that. Did you do something to my locker again?"

Look man, I know we’ve been off to a rocky start but I’m sure we can still work it out, right? I said, fighting hard not to laugh as I finish my rehearsed sentence, buying The Rebounds more time. This fight has to end sometime, right? We certainly can’t be enemies forever.

Randall looked even more doubtful, with furrowed brows of full-blown suspicion. He shook his head in defiance. "Sure we can. I‘m sure you can find it in your heart to remain enemies for-e-ver."

I could see Andy struggling to zip up the bag. We need more time. I mustered all the strength I have so as not to puke in disgust as I place a hand on Randall’s shoulder in a friendly manner. I don’t know man, I think- I think it’s time to… to put away all our anger and pride. To forgive and forget, you know?

Subtly sliding the knapsack back by Randall’s side, Tim finally clocked in the deed, all in under 41 seconds. As if nothing happened. Seamless.

So what’s the joke this time? Forget it Sowing! Randall retorted, brushing off my hand from his shoulder.

It’s up to you, man, I said, unable to hide the glee forming on my face. But don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. And ever so slowly, I backed away, a huge grin plastering itself on my face in all its unrepentant mockery, making certain I don’t let him out of my sight lest I miss the point of all the efforts of the past couple of days—his horrified reaction!

Randall reached for the books in his bag; and like professional actors in a play, out came the cockroaches and the worms. Gross! Randall instantly let out a yelp— an undeniably feminine scream! Everybody in the hallway became quiet, heads turning to him. He turned bright red, embarrassment and the desire to be swallowed by the earth beneath him apparent. He knew exactly where to look for the culprit. He looked in our direction.

Got you! I exclaimed in ridicule, slapping high-fives with The Rebounds, roaring with laughter. Man, I love high school! It’s cheap fun, but it IS fun. I could just predict the wave of chatter this mini event will cause in the next couple of days. I know we got him good on this round, but I also know it ain’t over. It never is.

I’m going to get you for this Sowing, Randall threatened, his voice carrying through the entire hallway. He was probably waving a fist in the air, fuming red in anger; but I couldn’t bother to look back, because we’re all already out the door, eager to celebrate.

ANDY

Me and Luke are waiting for Bree (that’s Anbree) and Tim. They’re running late. They’re checking out the list of players that got into the varsity basketball team. Last year, it was only Bree who got in, believe it or not. I may have gotten the Y chromosome but that girl can certainly make