INT. HOUSE - DAY
ADELA (12) shares a plate of food with her best friend, LIGAYA (12) on an old wooden table, under a low ceiling, broken jalousie windows across them. A few steps to their right, the front door is open. In this small, rural neighborhood, everybody's doors are always open.
Ligaya is wolfing down most of the food, appearing more famished than Adela who is looking at Ligaya, observing her bruises. Adela's FATHER zips back and forth past them with urgency, papers in hand, finding his other shoe.
LIGAYA
"He's always like that."
Adela looks at her father. Ligaya keeps eating.
LIGAYA
Rushing, rushing, rushing.
(beat)
"We should try to make him stay for a little longer."
Adela eyes the scattered jackstone next to their feet, on clear ground by the table. Jagged pebbles replace some of the jacks.
ADELA
"Pa!"
FATHER
"Mmm!"
ADELA
"Pa, come here please!"
FATHER
"Adela, where is my shoe?!"
His voice clears as he approaches, hands on his hips. He notices Ligaya's bruises and tsks.
ADELA
"Pa, Ligaya and I suck at jackstone."
He tsks again.
FATHER
"And?"
LIGAYA
"Help us get it right please, Tito!"
Ligaya beams at him. He sighs, crouches, and then grabs the jacks and stone.
FATHER
"The key here-"
He scatters them.
FATHER
"-is that before you even pick them up-"
He bounces the stone and scoops all the jacks in one go.
FATHER
"-you organize the stones, keep them together. Strategy."
He smiles widely, youthful and lighthearted. He straightens up and grabs his missing shoe from under the table. He zips past them once more. A sheet of paper frees itself from his hold and falls like a feather to the floor.
"RESIST THE UNION BUSTERS"
LIGAYA
"Can I sleep over?"
INT. BEDROOM - NEXT MORNING
Adela and Isabela smack a rickety television and tweak its antennae. It buzzes, flicks, distant voices, and crashes into noise.
LIGAYA
"This is the only one."
They sit on the foot of a rickety bed. A mosquito net is neatly folded beside them. They stare at the only channel airing–a cooking show.
Outside, the sound of Father shuffling about the house in a hurry again.
ADELA
"Pa!!! The TV PLEAAASE!"
He walks inside the room without a word, crouching to deal with the TV, a folder of papers tucked in his armpit. He twists the knobs. Static, save for one or two channels that were not relaying any news. He tsks, straightens up, hand on his hips.
FATHER
"Girls,"
(beat)
"This isn't the TV."
They look at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. He exhales.
FATHER
"This is why I'm always in a hurry. What I'm doing–"
He looks at the TV, nibbles at the inside of his lip, thinking how to word his sentences.
FATHER
"–is I am confronting whoever is doing this."
He points at the TV.
FATHER
"Because they don't want us to see."
His voice falters, disappearing into thought. The girls look at each other, puzzled.
INT. HOUSE - THAT NIGHT
The sound of someone storming in the house.
LIGAYA'S FATHER
"LIGAYA! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
He spots the girls tucked in a corner of the living room, holding each other's hands, like little jacks. Ligaya's Father strides to them, his face red, eyes wide open in fury.
The girls shriek. Adela tugs at Ligaya, who is frozen like a deer in headlights. Their weak attempt to scurry away is futile, as Ligaya's father takes a brute grasp of his daughter's arm. Ligaya cries.
LIGAYA'S FATHER
"Let's go. Stop crying."
He struggles, gritted teeth, no concern for the way he yanks at the little girl, her head bending back at the sudden pull. Adela, with little strength, can only keep holding on to her best friend, as she is being pulled along.
LIGAYA'S FATHER
"YOU LET GO! STAY!"
He pushes Adela off, sending her to the ground. Adela sniffles, watching as he drags Ligaya out the door. She walks to the door, bawling, helpless, overcome with the feeling of missing her own good father.
But Adela finds herself at the door all night, waiting, past the time her father is supposed to be home. She waits there until the morning after, and the night, until the days gray.
Her dad does not come back. Nor does her best friend. She is alone.
