There were two things Gabriel Lopez knew for certain:
First, his bicycle wasn't normal.Second, it didn't matter—because nobody cared about a boy from the corner of San Roque Street with grease on his shirt and a dream he didn't even know he had.
It was 5:38 in the morning, the exact time the rooster two houses down always screamed like it had just seen the end of the world. Gabriel opened his eyes, already awake. He'd been staring at the cracked ceiling for a while, counting the flakes of paint that looked like peeling clouds.
In the next room, his father coughed—loud, guttural, and followed by the creak of the monobloc chair that had become his throne. Another day of sitting, drinking lukewarm coffee, and shouting things that didn't need shouting.
Gabriel slipped on his worn-out slippers and stepped outside, where his bicycle waited.
The Bike.
He didn't have a name for it. Others gave their bikes names like Red Rocket or Shadow Blade or some cool nonsense.His was just... the bike.
Old. Rusty. Heavy on the left side. One of the pedals was crooked. The chain squeaked like a dying rat unless it was exactly 6:15 in the morning, when—for reasons unknown to science—it ran smooth as butter.The bell didn't ring. It giggled. Somehow.And the seat? Bent backward, as if someone had tried to sit on it with a full sack of rice.
But Gabriel rode it like it was born for him. Maybe it was.He weaved through Bulacan's cracked roads, over potholes and barking dogs, through alleys where tricycles barely fit—faster than anyone had any right to ride a bike in that condition.
He didn't ride for fun. He rode to feel free.To feel like the world wasn't as heavy as his backpack or his heart.
"Hoy, si bike boy!"("Hey, it's bike boy!")
A voice called out as he neared the school gate.
Gabriel slowed down, rolling past a trio of his classmates. The leader of the group—Paulo, with his perfect haircut and basketball shoes that cost more than Gabriel's house fan—stepped in front of him.
"Nasaan na 'yung makina mo, ha? Pedaling to college ka na ba?"("Where's your engine, huh? Pedaling your way to college already?")
Laughter followed.
Gabriel smiled—barely. Not the kind of smile that said, I'm fine, but the kind that said, I'm used to this.
He parked his bike by the same mango tree he always did. He always double-checked the lock, even though he knew nobody would steal something that looked like it came out of a junkyard fight.
Inside class, the lectures passed like wind. Math. Filipino. Araling Panlipunan. Gabriel's mind drifted elsewhere—back to the feeling of speed, the wind cutting across his face, the brief moment on the highway when he overtook a jeepney yesterday.
That wasn't normal. He didn't mean to—it just happened.
He remembered the way the bike pulled—not forward, but sideways, like it shifted weight on its own. Like it was correcting his balance...
But that wasn't possible. Right?
When school ended, Gabriel walked to his bike. It looked the same: bent, rusted, tired.
He placed his hand on the handlebar.
"Still with me?" he murmured.
The bike let out a soft clink.
And something else: the faintest tick, coming from under the seat—a place he'd never checked.He crouched. Nothing. Just dirt. Or maybe... a symbol?
He shook his head. "Nah. I'm tired."
He rode off. Faster this time. The wind carried him, and for the first time that day, he smiled—for real.
From across the street, a man with a silver cane watched him go, his eyes squinting behind worn aviator shades.
He tapped his cane once.
"Interesting."