Chapter 4

My alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., and for one confused second nakalimutan ko kung nasaan ako.

Then the sofa bed groaned beneath me, the ceiling swam into focus, and reality returned with all the subtlety of a dropped brick. Hawaii. The summit. Alexander Legaspi, one wall away.

I got up and tiptoed toward the bathroom, kung saan may gumagamit na ng six a.m. shower na buong yabang kong idineklara.

The water was running. Someone was humming, sintunado.

"Rule three," I whispered furiously. "Rule three."

The humming stopped. A pause. Then, through the door, in a voice thick with sleep and unmistakable amusement: "Luna? Is that you?”

"You're in my shower."

"It's six in the morning. You said six."

"It's 5:52."

"I couldn't sleep. Jet lag. My body thinks it's midnight tomorrow." He cleared his throat. "I'll be out in two minutes. Please don't wage war on me."

"I'm not waging anything."

"You're standing there glaring at the door, aren't you?"

I was. I stopped. "No.”

Namatay ang tubig. Lumayo ako sa p***o at umupo sa living-room sofa. Binuksan ko ang laptop sa slide na may titulong Phase One Housing Units.

Lumabas si Alexander na naka-white shirt at dark slacks, may towel sa leeg, basa pa ang buhok. He looked disgustingly well-rested for a man who claimed he hadn't slept.

"All yours," he said. "I left you hot water."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. By the way, you're holding your laptop upside down."

Tiningnan ko. Hindi naman. He laughed, a low, easy, genuinely delighted laugh that made the room feel a little warmer than I wanted it to.

"Go away!"

"Going. Good luck today."

He meant it. That was the strangest part.

The Hawaii Convention Center sprawled along Kalakaua like a ship made of glass, all open spaces and high ceilings and breezy walkways draped in green. Sa loob, umuugong ang summit with a thousand overlapping conversations: booths with LED walls, drones hovering above model cities, men in expensive suits shaking hands with other men in expensive suits.

I had my badge. I had my slides. I had a portable charger, two granola bars, and a tiny notebook where I'd written in block letters: BELIEVE. SHOW IT. And in my blazer pocket, one small bear with two eyes, one borrowed.

My pitch was at ten-thirty on the main stage. Tatlong beses ko nang chineck ang schedule. Wala ang pangalan ko. Ramon's was, with (Substitute: S. Serrano) in a tiny parenthesis.

The sound technician fitted me with a microphone.

"You're up in ten. You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," I said, in the voice of a woman who was not fine.

I find myself pacing back and forth backstage with the notes in my hands. Nanginginig ang mga kamay ko. I pressed them flat against my blazer, and the bear squished under my palm, and it didn't help enough.

"Hey."

I didn't turn around. I didn't have to. I would have known that voice anywhere by now, which was an alarming thing to know after one day.

"What are you doing back here?" I hissed. "You're competition."

"I'm also the next presenter after you. Eleven o'clock." Alexander stepped into the dim light, hands in his pockets. His expression had lost its teasing. "You're shaking."

"I'm not."

"Luna."

"I just—" My voice cracked, and I hated it. "I'm not a speaker. I'm an engineer. I'm good with numbers, not with crowds. Sir Ramon said they want someone who believes, and I do, I really do, but I don't know how to make people see it, and if I mess up, we lose everything—"

"Breathe."

"I am breathing."

"You're doing a very fast, very shallow thing that only looks like breathing." He kept a respectful distance. "Look at me."

I looked.

There was no smirk on his face now, only a calm so even it made my panic feel smaller.

"Nobody remembers a perfect pitch, Luna. They remember a person. Just tell them about the girl in the yellow raincoat in your first slide. Forget the figures. You are the story.

I blinked. "You saw my slides?"

"They're on the public portal. Don't look at me like that, it's not espionage." A flicker of the old grin.

Sumikip ang lalamunan ko. Wala ang photo na 'yon sa original template ni Ramon. I had added it myself, at three in the morning on the plane. Wala akong sinabihan.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered.

He was quiet for a long moment.

"Because if I win," he said, "I want to win against the best you. Not against the one who's scared."

The stage manager appeared at the curtain. "Ms. Serrano? You're on."

Kumabog ang dibdib ko.

Hindi niya ako hinawakan. Tinitigan lang niya ako at marahang tumango. Go.

I walked.

The lights were blinding. I opened my mouth to say Good morning, everyone, and instead heard myself say, "There's a little girl in a yellow raincoat."

The screen lit up with her photo.

"Her name is Maya. She's six years old. Last September, her family's house in Marikina flooded to the roof. They lived in a gym for four months. When I asked what she wanted most, she didn't say toys. She told me she just wanted a house that doesn't drown."

My voice trembled. I let it.

And then, without planning to, I took the bear out of my pocket and held her up in the stage light: with a little yellow raincoat, a crooked smile and black button eyes.

"I made this for her," I said. " I am not a sales person. I'm an engineer. I count concrete and steel and cost per square meter. But I also know that every number on my spreadsheet is a family. Kalayaan Heights isn't just a township. It's a promise. It's four thousand homes that will stand when the water rises. And I'm asking you to build it with us."

I ended there. I hadn't even reached the financing slide.

For one terrible second, there was silence.

Then the applause came. Not polite, not scattered, but a wave rising from the back of the hall until the whole room seemed to shake with it.

I stood frozen in the lights, holding a tiny bear over my head like an idiot.

Sa gilid ng stage, a man in a charcoal suit was clapping slowly, with a smile on his face that wasn't a smirk at all.