Chapter 23
“We would like to congratulate everyone for bringing happiness to the children in the orphanage. Your kindness hasn’t gone unnoticed. Now we want you to prepare for the next step in becoming a true beauty queen—giving advocacy,” Guinevere says, calling the candidates’ attention to the board. “I need to know tomorrow what causes you want to advocate for, so spend the rest of the day learning more about what you would want to focus on.”
Most of the girls have left the classroom, wandering on their own. Thinking about it, Cleo doesn’t want to choose a topic she has no idea of. As if by fate, her eyes fall on Eric’s open bag, and, nestling just inside is a book called The Little Prince. She looks at the book, just to see where he might have gotten it. She figures he might have borrowed it from a library. She thinks it’s odd because he doesn’t strike her as the bookish type. He seems more of the get-a-book-because-the-class-requires-it type, but again, she doesn’t want to make any more assumptions.
“Stealing books now?” Erik asks, appearing with his camera and leaning against the door frame. Seeing his height made Cleo realize he’s taller than she is, and that’s saying something because she’s always been the tallest one in any group.
“You’re a shadow person, you know,” Cleo observes. “You’re there, and everyone notices you, and then you retreat into your dark recesses.”
“I’d rather see the dark before the light,” Erik says casually, pulling his bag away from her.
An idea pops into Cleo’s head. “Where’d you get that?”
“Bookstore, obviously.”
“I know, I just—do you know any libraries around here?” Cleo checks her phone, scrolling for nearby libraries she could use for the day.
“I know a very nice one.”
“Where is it?”
“I’ll take you there with Dominique,” Erik offers, his eyes trailing over Dom, who’s smoking outside.
Cleo doesn’t even argue, and Dom just says yes to almost everything, so half an hour later, Erik has given them a ride to a heritage library. The library instantly hits Cleo with the woodsy scent of years and years’ worth of paper—old books, new books.
“Wow,” Cleo utters in awe, stunned by the massive bookcases lined up in rows. “How’d you find this place?”
“I look around,” Erik mentions, putting his The Little Prince book back where it belongs—behind the glass door of the bookcase.
Dom glances at Erik, mystified and cautious.
Erik sighs. “My adoptive parents donated some money to this library. And yes, they’re rich.”
“So you’re Mr. Grey?” Dom fires, ever the doubtful one. “Loads of money and spending your time with women?”
“I don’t put people through abuse, Dom. I mean, just because your name screams DOM . . . .”
Dom ignores Erik’s witty remark, focusing instead on checking out the titles of the books. Neither man is what Cleo would call a friend, but they know what they want, and somehow it makes her feel secure. They’re decisive, and Cleo’s a natural when it comes to deciding.
But oh, look, Cleo can’t decide where to start first.
“What would you like to tell the world?” Erik shrugs off his hoodie jacket, whistling as he pulls out random books.
What do I want to tell the world, aside from not giving up on achieving your dreams? World peace? That’s too generic.
Cleo walks around the shelves, her hands caressing the spines of the books. The books speak of different stories presented in different skins—paperbacks to hardcovers and leather bounds. Just then, her eyes catch the front cover of a history book. She thought it would be like any of the history books she used in school. Still, this one is prominently dedicated to Gabriela Silang, the revolutionary Filipina who led an uprising against a foreign power. There’ve been a lot of movies and books about male national heroes, and yet there’s this woman, brave yet not so loudly sung.
“The power of a woman,” Cleo muses, turning to Erik. “When I was still new in the film and TV industry, I was offered this role to be the sexy chick that always says yes to every man’s demands. I said yes because I wanted to be famous., But I didn’t stick with it, because it was hollow. Empty. What I needed was to find and work with people who believed in me.”
Erik doesn’t say anything. He looks at her and listens.
“My dad didn’t believe in my mom. I’m not sure he believes in anybody, but I think he still expected me to follow in his footsteps. If that was really what he wanted . . . it didn’t happen. I tried his path, and it didn’t work out too well. So, I went to my mom’s path, and it felt like a sigh of relief. Pageantry celebrates the power, strength, and beauty of a woman,” Cleo concludes, glad that she’s said it out loud to someone else. “And I want to be part of that.”
“That’s a good choice. And, anyway, only you can decide how to get where you want to be,” Erik comments, comfortably lying down on a couch with long legs extending over the end of it. “I’ll think I’ll take a nap.”
“I don’t think you should sleep in a—”
But Erik’s already closed his eyes, not a care in the world. Cleo wants to be like him sometimes, laidback and doing whatever he wants.
Cleo leaves him in peace, going through some more books. She re-reads the fairy tales she used to love and realizes that the women are almost always waiting for someone to come along to rescue them. The original Grimms’ Fairy Tales may prove better than the sugarcoated retellings even though they’re as grim as their name, because they express a certain truth about life: it’s not always rainbows and unicorns.
Cleo turns her attention to history, reading about discrimination against women. The books she skims through cover unequal treatment, employment, and in some countries, forced marriage. It’s all kinds of wrong. She isn’t going to let anyone dictate what she should want, can have, or can achieve just because she’s a woman and therefore too emotional for the demands and challenges of the world. Besides, there’s a lot of power in emotion and in the ability to empathize. The feelings, thoughts and actions of women are every bit as great as those of men.
But to empower women, society must also enable men. Men should not be expected to deny their emotions. Men can cry, and women can “man up.” People are people, and some needs are basic to all, regardless of the culture or beliefs in which they are raised
Cleo wants to point out that we can’t fully empower one gender without empowering the other. Equality must mean equality for all. Freedom must mean freedom for all. On every level and in every way.
So, the next day, Cleo knows what she wants to advocate for. In the practice interview with the duo of commanders, a candidate has to stand in front and share her thoughts about her cause. The rest of the candidates will then pose a question, so the one in front will have the chance to clarify and, if necessary, defend what she believes in.
Nadia goes first. “Education for the underprivileged. I believe education should be a right and not a privilege. There are thousands of children in the esteros who dream of being in the classroom, learning, instead of living their days crushed by poverty.”
Cleo raises her hand to question her. “As Lady Cebu City, how will you bridge education to the underprivileged?”
“As Lady Cebu City, I’ll reach out to NGOs and be their partner in providing the needed materials,” Nadia responds, smiling at Cleo and almost daring her to keep going with her questions.
Cleo doesn’t. With the coronation night drawing near, she needs to save energy for the right battles. Eventually, she takes the spotlight.
“Women and men empowerment—”
Lady Rizal laughs at Cleo. “You’re trying to be different or something?”
Cleo ignores Lady Rizal’s remark and continues.
“Women and men empowerment. Women can ‘man up,’ and men can cry and wear pink. Women can be soldiers in the military, and men can clean the house and do the laundry. Women’s and men’s rights should be recognized as interchangeable. What men can do must also be applicable to women and vice versa,” Cleo speaks out loud in a clear voice, fiercely challenging anyone to question her. “What a person can do does not come from what they’ve been told, or what their background is. The value of a person comes from what good they have done today.”
Then came a round of applause. Cleo has no idea that there are reporters out there. At the end of the practice panel, the candidates are approached by these reporters who are asking them about the preparation they’ve done so far. Unfortunately, no one’s that interested in her. Whatever questions do come to her focus on her father and her breakup with Owen.
“Why are they going on about my breakup with Owen?” Cleo looks at the other candidates happily being interviewed. She wants to be like them, not this girl whose whole life revolves around her father and her love life and any other people she doesn’t want to care about at this moment.
Dom appears next to Cleo, scrolling on his phone and then giving it to Cleo. “Take a look at this.”
Cleo Walter and Boyfriend Owen Velazco Officially Broken Up
Months into Cleo Walter’s journey to the Lady Pearl of the Philippines’ crown, she gets caught in a personal setback, breaking up with her longtime boyfriend, Owen Velazco. It’s only a few days before the coronation night, and she’s still far from winning the hearts of the people.
Now, the growing fans and critics of Cleo ask: has fame gone to her head? Or is she trying to outdo her father, Direk Everett?
“For months, I’ve stopped myself from using my social media, and I still get this kind of spin?” Cleo snaps. “I’m not going to let them speak for me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait here.” Cleo avoids the cameras and looks for the reporter she enlisted at the start of this venture. Thankfully, she quickly spots Aira in the crowd. She takes her mic, smiling at her as if to remind her of their deal. “Care to interview me?”
“You’re something else, Cleo,” Aira comments. “We had a deal, so fine.”
“Can we go somewhere in private?”
Cleo takes Aira and Dom into another room. If no one’s going to ask her the right questions, then she might as well form her own team of creatives for her social media. It’s not like Deborah and Guinevere can help her with it. Elle is even less likely. It’s one thing that only she can control. If talk about her is running loose, the camp can’t do anything about it, but she can.
Dom suspiciously eyes Aira. “You’re sketchy.”
“As are you,” Aira retorts, sitting on the beanbag chair and taking out her pen and notebook. “What do you want me to do?”
“Wait, wait. You invited this reporter?” Dom interjects, glancing at the notes in Aria’s notebook.
Cleo holds her hands up. “Yes. Just listen. The questions these reporters have for me will never change unless I do something about it. I’ve been answering the same set of questions for years, and I want to move on from that. It’s about time I make my side of things heard.”
“Oops, wrong room.”
Cleo, Dom, and Aira turn to look at Erik, who’s trying to close the door quietly, but Cleo quickly runs to him, pulling him inside. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“What?” Erik tilts his head to one side, genuinely curious.
For some reason, Cleo trusts Erik. If she has a reporter, a stylist, and a photographer on her team, then it’s the perfect combination to build up her image on different social media platforms. It’s one of the only ways she can differentiate herself from other candidates. She’s doing her best in the training and pre-pageantry, but she’s missing one thing: the crowd.
“Cleo 2.0,” Cleo explains, pushing Erik and Dom to sit on the beanies too. “I want to re-write my story. I want people to get to know who I am, and I can only do that with your help.”
“What makes you think I’m willing to help you?” Erik rebuts, opening his DSLR and inspecting the photos he got earlier.
“You’ll see once you get to know who I am. I know it’s too much to ask, and I might be putting your job in danger since you’re the official pageantry photographer, but has there never been a time in your life where you just wanted people to understand what you see behind the lens of the camera?”
Erik turns off his camera, glances at Dom and Aira, and then looks at Cleo. “Then you have to give me your most genuine self.”
“Woah, flirty much?” Aira comments, scrunching her eyebrows at Erik.
“Amen!” Dom agrees. “The tension in the air is so palpable—”
Erik stares hard at Dom.
“Sorry, sorry, just trying to lighten up the mood.” Dom shifts in his seat, turning his attention to Cleo.
“This is not a love story, Dom.”
“I know, honey. I know,” Dom says pitifully, like he knows something Cleo doesn’t. “The eyes never lie, though.”
Aira makes a gagging sound at the back of her throat. “So, are we going to hear her plans, or do I just write a scandalous story about this? It’ll be perfect next to the Owen fiasco.”
“Okay, so I’m trusting Erik to take my photos in my most natural self. Dom styles me up like usual, and Aira writes my story. Slowly, I want to take over the tabloids’ story about me. That stuff is outdated, and it’s not worth talking about. Today, I just want to be interviewed exclusively by Aira. The headlines will be something like Cleo Walter: the Unknown Story.’ How does that sound?” Cleo asks, worried she might be rambling on about inane things. “Tell me if my idea sounds stupid.”
“It’s perfect, honey,” Dom agrees with Cleo.
Erik snaps a photo of Cleo. “Here’s one.”
“Then let’s start the interview,” Aira says, switching her voice recorder on. “Who is Cleo Walter?”