For the past three months, every night I have been smelling a strange smell. It’s not a typical body odor. It was like the smell of mold mixed with a strong, pungent smell clinging to the blankets, to the bedsheet, and especially to the part of the bed where Miguel was sleeping.

Others applauded.

Others smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Brown!” cried one of the boys.

I felt my eyes fill with tears.

Not out of sadness.

But it’s because of the sheer amount of fun.

Michael came over and grabbed my hand.

“Yes,” he said.

“This is my dream.”

He looked at the children.

“But I can’t do it alone.”

He looked at me.

“Would you like to help me run this school?”

I didn’t get an immediate response.

I looked around.

To the children who are smiling.

In a small building full of hope.

Then I turned to Michael.

At ngumiti.

“Syempre.”

That day the school opened for the first time.

Children who have never had the opportunity to study sit inside the classroom.

As I watched them, I realized something.

Minsan…

Secrets are not due to cheating.

Sometimes, secrets are due to dreams that want to be made into surprises.

And that night, as Miguel and I sat side by side in front of the small school, peace came back to us.

The weird smell that once scared me…