“Good morning, SirScare—Sir Carreon!” Atthe corner of his eye, Caleb could see Ginny’s shoulders shakingfrom contained laughter.
“Congratulations on yourexam,” the teacher’s voice vibrated in bass. “After giving it muchthought, I’ve decided to recommend you for themasterclass.”
Caleb’s intake of breathwas as sharp as Sir Carreon’s gaze. “S-sir?” He couldn’t have heardit right. The masterclasses, which were month-long summer sessionstaught by professional musicians, were privileges usually given toincoming seniors. Only one student per instrument was chosen eachyear. Recently, it had been confirmed that this summer’s pianomasterclass was going to be taught by Cynthia Liban, the onlyFilipino solo pianist who had made it to the Billboard classicalcharts in the U.S.
“Now don’t be complacent.”The lines on the music teacher’s face deepened into a frown. “Youwill be competing with upperclassmen far more experienced than you.You must practice constantly. However, I will be personallymonitoring your development.”
“Thank you, sir!I—”
“I will not makeconcessions for your other subjects, no matter how demanding theyare. We shall meet for consultations, aside from our regular class.My work will only end on the day of auditions.Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Caleb exclaimedto his teacher’s back, which was already turned to him. SirCarreon’s gait was steady, set to the rhythm of his umbrella tiptapping on the pavement. “Thank you, sir! I—OW!” Caleb turned toGinny.
“I hateyou!” Ginny squealed,squeezing his arm even harder. “Cale, a freshman candidate formasterclass? That’s got to be a first!”
“You heard him. I stillhave to earn it,” Caleb said stiffly. The reality of the news madehis stomach clench. He bet he would have to play forScare-reon on each oftheir “consultations.” It would be like having a practical exam ona regular basis.
“Oh, please. You’reinfinitely talented—anddisciplined. If there’s anyone who can make it to the masterclasswhile maintaining his scholarship, that’s you.”
Suddenly, Ginny’s eyeswidened at a spot behind Caleb. Her voice rose an octave when shecalled out, “How did you do?”
Caleb turned to see Noel’spole-thin build swivel from the billboard. His cheeks were flamingas he walked toward them. “An A,” he said, and quickly added, “Butit’s no big deal. My teacher’s easy to please.”
Envy lurched in Caleb’schest. An A from an easy-to-please teacher was still anA.
“Own thegrade, dude. Congrats!” Ginny beamed, thenflipped back her hair. “By the way, Caleb and I were looking foryou after the performances last Friday. We wanted to invite you outfor coffee.”
Was it Caleb’s imaginationor did Noel throw a wary glance his way? “Sorry, the whole grouphad to leave for an emergency celebration.”
“Oh, totally.” Ginny’s headbobbed. “The event was a success!”
Noel scratched his nose,hesitating. “That and well, you know Franco and Drew?”
Ginny resumed her headbobbing, while Caleb stood completely still.
“They got back togetherthat night. They were so happy, they treated us out topizza.”
Of course.Caleb sucked in air like a diver breaking out ofthe water’s surface. Of course the poem Franco wrote and performedwas about Drew. It was Drew on Franco’s mind when he had talkedabout falling in love with Pluto. The icy Drew whose chaoticterrains were worth exploring. Drew whom Franco had tried to winback with a love poem. It was poetic justice in its most literalform.
And of course Calebshould’ve known that a weekend of obsessing over Franco was futile;it wouldn’t even make a dent into the reality he was living. Calebhad a shot at everything else—a full scholarship, a supportive bestfriend, even the honor of being the first freshman to be acceptedinto the masterclass. But having someone like Franco De Leon takenotice of him? It was like expecting a bright shooting star tobrake for a speck of dust.
Caleb was aware of Ginny’shand slipping through the crook of his arm. Ginny’s perky voicetelling Noel that she and Caleb had to rush to class a couple ofbuildings away. Caleb remembered nodding to Noel before allowinghis arm to be dragged once again by Ginny as they crossed grassyfields and concrete. As he uttered suitable replies to his friend’sgiddy account of Noel’s adorableness, his insides were a mess ofhurting and coming to terms with truth.
Over the years, he hadlearned to master this. Being two contrary things at the same time.Outside, poised and unemotional; inside, complete chaos. It waslike playing the piano, each hand playing its own melody. His innerworld was so different from what he showed to the rest of the worldthat all the time, everyone was fooled into thinking that he wasdoing fine.
Chapter 4:Dissonance
He blamed his dad for themetronome.
It was an internal devicethat had served Caleb well when he was much younger, letting himknow exactly when he would see his dad. Video calls happened at 5PM in the Philippines, which coincided with his dad’s lunch breakin Qatar. The balikbayanboxes arrived three times year—one timed onCaleb’s birthday month. And every two years, in late November, heand his mom would wade through the traffic toward the airport tofetch the man Caleb seldom saw in the flesh.
His dad’s homecomings feltlike a vacation from normal life—not that Caleb and his mom didn’tget along. Their bond was the kind reinforced by constanttogetherness, by routines that had woven their cocoon of mutualtrust and love. But with the man of the house around, realityseemed shades brighter. Their house would feel full, bursting atthe seams with just this other person’s presence.
The kitchen would be a hubof constant activity as his mom hastened to cook dishes that herhusband had missed abroad. Every mealtime was a fiestafeaturing crispy pata, kare-kare, pork binagoongan, and native dessertssuch as ube halaya and palitaw.
Caleb saw his dad as amagical creature that brought spice and surprise. They madecountless trips to malls, restaurants and theme parks—and thehighlight of his dad’s visit: a long drive to the beach. Calebloved the destination, but not the journey. Prone to motionsickness, he would always have a barf bag ready by his side. Duringthose trips, his mom would occasionally turn to him from thepassenger seat to ask, “Are you okay, mahal?” Caleb would nod, though helonged to pull her onto the backseat so he could
