SANTA MARIA HIGH (COMPLETED)

Part Two: 7

Friday came, almost in a hurry. She still had to sort books in the library, but it was much more bearable now. Ada and Rochas had the worst of it, helping the gardener. The other day Rochas came to the class with a faint wiff of manure. The first boy to make a comment about it earned himself a punch, and that spelt more trouble for Rochas. Just what he deserved, an extra duty, this time not just with the gardener’s projects but in the school green house.

That Friday, took a turn Hope never expected. She was copying some notes she has missed the previous week when some strong hands landed on her desk, handsome light skinned hands, if hands can be said to be handsome. She looked up and her eyes locked gaze with Anthony Laurence in all his glory. Those honey brown eyes, crinkled as he smiled, “You are Hope, right? Music class?”

“um yes.” She stammered, closing her notebook. That quick instinct to cover her crappy handwriting from the prying of this boy. The class suddenly felt too hot. She resisted the urge to fan herself. Jesus Hope! Hold your damn horses! She was speechless, confused… all she could do was try looking like she had it all together before she hears whatever he has to say. There was this issue about an imminent death and she hoped this conversation might lead there, in a less akward way no less. She could only hope.

“The board agreed to our proposal to host a Halloween night concert plus ballet.” He said, “and we are hosting an audition, I was hoping you are interested.” He said.

Hope gulped, then blinked. Crap! Anthony smiled, “I sent an invite to you the other day, gave it to Obi.” He said. “I take it he didn’t give it to you.” He said after a brief pause in which it seems he was sizing up her reaction. “can you make it today, for the audition?”

First she was looking for a moment to talk to this senior boy, now he’s here talking to her without any effort on her part, and she just got to know that Obi refused to deliver a message. Is there anything in the rule book about how to feel?

“I’m really hoping you consider this.”

Hope made to talk, her voice failed, her wit was in overdrive. “I’m not very confident about my violin skills.” She said, it was the modest thing she could say, considering she was both scared, flattered and angry at the same time, and it sounded crappy after she said that… crappy like her handwriting, she wished it were some voice note on WhatsApp she could instantly delete.

“Mrs Rosalind thinks otherwise.” He said, with a wink, a practiced sexy wink. Nora would kill to have this moment. “I am actually hoping you’d be with the vocals, at least for some of the pieces. In your application you wrote that you can sing between e3 to e5, which make you reasonably mezzo soprano?”

“yes.” The replied felt uncultured, unfiltered. Nothing she could make as speech can sound as calm and collected as the way this guy talked.

“and If I’m correct, in your former school you sing don’t you?”

“yes but_”

“we have lead roles for countertenor and mezzo sop, I’d like you to give them a try.” He said, “please do. You might not know who would notice.”

Hope watched him smile, and walk—saunter away. But that smile, the chiseled jaw, the slim pointed nose, the hair, crew cut, hair rolled in frozen waves—that picture was burnt in her memory. The thought that he might be dead soon! Were her heart detached it would be bouncing on the ground after him.

She suddenly realized how quiet the class has gotten. Before a girl sighed and clapped her hands saying, “wonder shall never end!” before the class seems to take that statement as to mean noise can continue business as usual, Hope picked her bag and practically ran out.