Paddled Schoolgirls Mga Nobela at Kwento

The date stamp in the corner read: Twelve years ago. Nick’s stomach tightened, preparing himself for the unknown. The image showed the pack school playground. Children ran across the field while others gathered near the climbing frames and benches. The footage had no sound, but their laughter was obvious from the way their small bodies bounced with energy. Dalia pointed at the screen. “There.”

“Kayaking, zip-lining—oh, and we have to take pictures by that infinity pool. You’ll look gorgeous in the sun.” Lily laughed. “I’ll probably get sunburned in five minutes.” They rounded a curve in the path—and that’s when they passed the group. Four girls, all around their age, lounged by the garden’s edge in designer swimwear and perfectly styled hair. Their laughter bubbled up like champagne as Lily and Maya walked by, but it wasn’t friendly. It had that sharp, knowing edge Lily recognized instantly. One of the girls leaned toward her friends and whispered loudly enough for Lily to hear. The others giggled harder.

Dangerous voices surrounded me. A sudden chill crawled up my spine; something didn’t feel right. My fists came up to rub my eyes. I blinked, doing my best to make out my environment. The next time I opened my eyes, I saw curtains, stage lights, and women dressed in next to nothing. They paraded across a podium, performing by touching themselves and spreading their legs for the crowd of men holding numbered paddles. Some of these girls looked drugged—the grogginess in their eyes and their lazy smiles, which some might mistake for seductive, made that obvious.

But someone had raised the shout, and shouts are contagious. We hit the wire fence and the first shed where the girls were kept. The door groaned as Paolo forced it open. Inside, faces turned—halos of sleep and fear. One girl tried to climb the piled pallets like a cat; another collapsed at the sight of us and sobbed. The place smelled like bleach and laundry gone sour, like the little human things that had no defense against what men did.

“I don’t know, okay? I just feel off. It’s allowed, isn’t it?” She didn’t push again. She only nodded and stood, her expression unreadable as she carried her glass back to the sink. ***** School that afternoon was loud and alive, like it always got when classes ended early. The field was a mess of energy—students were scattered everywhere. Boys kicked footballs and took turns doing tricks that earned loud claps or fake boos. Girls were in little groups—some playing clapping games, others braiding each other’s hair, a few stretching or sitting on the grass with bare feet.

they all giggle like a bunch of school girls. Kill me now.

A girl who admitted to breaking her sister’s nose in a fight over a boyfriend. And I sat through all of it, they laughed, bragged, kissed and drank and dared and boasted. I went to an all-girls private school in Chicago. We weren’t saints but we didn’t snort powder off holy sinks or throw punches over boys. We learned posture, elocution, Latin prayers, and how to smile without showing too much teeth. When the bottle spun, it landed on me again. Gerardo grinned. “Only dare left, sweetheart. I dare you to strip down and run into the water, just in your underwear. Come on, Capone.”

The next two days, Nathania came to school to see that Power bike always in her spot. At first, she had thought she would see the owner during one of the classes or even at recess but none of that had happened and it wasn’t helping if the bike was gone as soon as school was over. Someone was coming with it obviously but she just doesn’t know who. Everyone was talking about a ghost student that drives the bike during recess and while they were all excited about the idea, she was annoyed. Not only was the person taking her favorite spot, the person was playing hide and seek with her.

It had always been the same since Grade 7 except, now that they were in Senior High, twice a week they wore a new uniform of white button-down shirt, pencil skirt and a navy blue vest with the school crest sewn on above the acronym SHS. The problem with this rule was, many Filipina girls were vertically challenged. For instance, among the Bali Girls, Trish and Mikaela wore hand-me-downs, their oversized skirts producing a Lola Basyang (Mother Goose) effect on them. It was also extremely hot – literal, not figurative. This made the Bali Girls resort to rotating as lookouts at the classroom door and using their compacts to spy on Mrs. Lim coming with a ruler. The rest of the time, they’d roll

Although showers are still together, but nudity is still a thing humans shy from and make a big deal of even though it was a boys only school. In my first year, about twenty girls from the girls only catholic school near us would sneak to watch me shirtless from my room window. I never understood why the sneaking, when I could be shirtless in public too. The parents of these girls, tried to make the school expel me, claiming that I was from hell and sent to seduce their children, but I guess they couldn't say no the money my dad paid every year. I may agree with the hell part, but I have not had the need to try and seduce anyone in my entire life. Even older women wanted me, it wasn't a grea