The Photographer

(Ignazio Boschetto Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

*Author's note: Welcome to my fourth fanfiction, about the third boy in Il Volo, the singing trio from Italy. This one is about Ignazio Boschetto, whose name can be difficult to pronounce. It's essentially EEN-YAHT-ZIO. 16-year-old Ignazio himself teaches how to say it in the Youtube video "Learn Italian With Il Volo," posted by Linora Low. watch?v=0syFNL7E-k . I know it's been a long while since I've posted anything, but it's because I've been so busy with this fanfic! Like with my other Il Volo stories, I encourage you to look up the group and the songs mentioned, as it may help the effect of the story. I also want to mention that "Michele" is pronounced like "Mick-ell-ay," and it wasn't just me trying to spell "Michel". Michele Torpedine is the actual manager of Il Volo. You can email me at annawritesfanfiction at gmail dotcom (the site doesn't let you write the address normally.) I hope you enjoy the story!

–Anna Babin (annawritesfanfiction)

On the first of August, I headed to Harrison with an unbearable excitement in my chest. I hurried along the pavement, my red high-tops slapping against the ground. I couldn't help doting on what a beautiful day it was. The sky was a bright blue, with clouds so fluffy they were like cotton candy, and so close I could seemingly pluck them from the sky and put them in my mouth. It was a warm, sunny, and bright Florida morning- a perfect day to receive my long-anticipated assignment.

The day was called Assignment Day by the students of The Harrison Academy of Film and Photography. It was a day regarded with eager ambition, the day when students accepted employment by the largest, most well-known companies throughout the world.

Harrison was the best film and photography school in The States, and everyone with these particular passions longed to get in. Harrison only had about three hundred attending students, and each one had approached the Academy on their own and displayed their unbelievable talent and promise. Harrison trained and bred photographers of all ages, and I was one of the rare children who started attending classes at age eleven. Every day after school I had gone to the Academy and received my strict training. It took all of my time and effort, but had helped me to grow into an amazing photographer. I had recently been attending Harrison along with advertisement classes at a local college.

Though my parents were uncertain about photography as a career, Harrison attendees never went hungry. Students of the academy were in high demand, and any company that was worth anything jumped at the chance to snatch up their own Harrison student.

But I had set my eyes on one company in particular, and today I was certain that the position I longed for, trained for, was mine at last!

I entered the gates of the Academy and went to the waiting room for my turn to receive my assignment. I was the last of today's students to meet with the headmaster, and I sat alone in the room, fidgeting in excitement and impatiently watching the hands on the clock slowly move.

After several minutes of silence, the door to the headmaster's office burst open, and a girl named Eve hurried forth, squealing in excitement.

"Tamzin!" she cried when she saw me, waving about her folder containing her assignment. "I have the most amazing assignment!"

"Congratulations!" I said, jumping up as she scurried up to me. "What did you get?"

"I'm going to be a photographer for the great, the powerful-"

"Eve!"

"I'm a photographer for National Geographic!"

I froze.

"National Geographic?"

"Uh-huh! Isn't it great!? I've got to go and tell my parents!"

She bounced up and down in excitement and rushed around me.

I stood frozen and watched her leaving.

"Tamzin?" came the call from behind me, but I stood frozen in the waiting room, watching Eve bounce away.

"Tamzin, come in."

I whirled around and strode briskly into the office and went right up to the desk.

"Tell me it isn't so, Mr. Masters! Tell me the girl's deluded!" I cried, pointing behind me at the door to the waiting room.

Mr. Masters' smile faded.

"I'm sorry, Tamzin. I'm afraid it is."

I stared at him for a few moments, speechless and despondent.

Then I sunk down into the chair facing the desk, despair rising in my chest. I buried my head in my hands as I felt all my excitement depleting, and for a moment the office was silent as I felt Mr. Masters watching me curled up in the chair, waiting as he usually did for me to collect myself. My sorrow quickly turned to fury, and I leapt up and slammed my fist on the desk.

"And they wanted Eve above me!?"

"Tamzin, shut the door! She might still be able to hear you!"

I turned and kicked the door shut with a bang, making Mr. Masters roll his eyes at my usual defiance.

"Why Eve!?"

"They liked her unique camera angles."

"Unique!? That girl couldn't get a good angle if she measured it with a protractor!"

Mr. Masters laughed merrily, and then quieted when he saw my blazing eyes.

"Tamzin, sit down."

"They wanted her over me!?"

His jolly nature evaporated, and he pointed at the chair.

"Tamzin Lucille Montgomery! Have a seat!"

I sank into the chair, glaring defiantly.

"They weren't looking for a landscape photographer today. If they were, I'm sure they would have picked you. They're going to be conducting several cultural studies, and Eve's knowledge of the subjects and her grasp of several different languages make her a perfect recipient of the job."

I looked sadly into his face, and he smiled in an attempt to cheer me up. Instead, I buried my face in my hands again.

"Oh, what am I going to do, Mr. Masters!?" I moaned from within my hands, "I denied last year's offers because I knew they were coming this year and I wanted to keep training for them! I was sure I'd get the job! Now what will I do!? I have loans to pay back from my advertisement courses at the college! And my rent's due on my apartment!"

"Tamzin," he said, and I raised my head from my hands. He smiled brightly at me. "You have an offer."

"I do!?" I leapt up in excitement. "Well!? What is it!? Why didn't you tell me this before!?"

He laughed joyously and pointed at the chair, and I sat and waited, fidgeting, while he reached back into a filing cabinet and pulled out a thick folder. He placed it on the desk and then slid it over to me.

"I think you're going to like this one, Tamzin."

I grabbed the folder and flipped it open, looking in bewilderment at a picture of three Italian-looking boys about my age.

"Do you know who these guys are?" Mr. Masters asked eagerly.

"No," I answered, scrutinizing the three faces. "But I think I've seen them on an ad for The Tonight Show before."

"That's very possible," he said. "They're a trio of operatic pop singers."

I slowly looked up, narrowing my eyes.

"They're… singers!?"

"Yes, and excellent ones at that. They're called "Il Volo.""

"They're called what?"

"Il Volo. It means "The Flight" in Italian."

He reached across the desk and pointed at the picture at the boy in the middle, a boy with sensual eyes and a soft smile, and soft-looking dark hair.

"That's Gianluca Ginoble."

He moved his finger to a sweet-looking boy with red glasses and an excited smile.

"That's Piero Barone."

He moved his finger to the third boy, a broad-shouldered, happy-looking boy with eyes that shone good-naturedly. His hair was long and unruly, and he was handsome despite the funny beard he was trying to grow.

"That's Ignazio Boschetto."

"I'm never going to be able to pronounce those names," I said, and Mr. Masters laughed.

"Oh, you'll learn."

"So what do they want from me?"

"Well…their current photographer is leaving, and they need a new one."

"But…I've hardly done any portrait work!"

"I know, but they just adored the work you have done. The managers specifically want you, and they instructed me not to let you get away."

"I don't think-" I began doubtfully.

"I think you'll like this job, Tamzin. They're about to go on tour, and you'll get to travel, like you wanted to do with National Geographic! And I'm sure you and the boys will get along very well."

I looked scornfully at their picture. Harrison students received occasional offers from celebrities, but few actually accepted them. Several who had reported disappointing stories of bratty pop-stars and condescending bosses. I doubted these boys would be different.

"I'm more of a landscape person," I said, folding my arms defiantly. Mr. Masters sighed.

"Look, Tamzin," he said, reaching forward and producing a contract from the folder. "You said yourself that you have bills to pay, and if that's true I don't think you can go another year without accepting any offers. Look at what they're willing to pay you."

He directed my attention to the page, and I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

"That much, huh?"

"Yes. It's pretty generous, especially since they're covering all your housing arrangements besides that. They want you, Tamzin."

I sat back in the chair and chewed my nails thoughtfully, still not keen on the offer.

"This contract's for exactly a year," Mr. Masters interjected. "If National Geographic does come back next year, you'll be back in time for another shot at their company."

I sighed and looked somberly at the boys smiling at me from the picture.

Mr. Masters reached into the pocket of the folder and produced a CD, which he handed to me.

"Listen to them, review the contract, and think about it," he instructed. "One of the boys' managers will be here in Florida next week to talk with you about the job, and to get this contract signed. Then you'll fly to Los Angeles for two weeks to meet the boys and be trained before they start their tour. I think you should do it."

I nodded sadly.

"I guess you're right," I said grudgingly and sorrowfully, slowly closing the folder and taking it into my lap. "I guess I'll have to take it."

Mr. Masters nodded approvingly.

"You'll meet with the manager in a week, okay?"

I nodded glumly and stood up.

"Cheer up, Tamzin," he said. "I doubt you'll regret this job."

"Thanks, Mr. Masters," I said sullenly, and dismissed myself from his office, taking the folder with me.

As I left the Academy, I looked up at the mockingly cheerful blue sky and glared at it. I trudged back to my apartment, stomped up the outside steps, and went to my couch, sitting down remorsefully and looking at the folder in my hands. It was not the offer I pictured having at this time. Anger swelled within my chest and I stood suddenly and threw it down, angry tears in my eyes.

Pop singers!? I was going to be a photographer for pop singers!? I bent down and snatched up the CD, glaring at the handsome, smiling faces of the boys. In a fury, I ran to my apartment window and yanked it up, swiftly drawing my arm back and flinging the CD Frisbee-style out the window. I watched as it crashed to its doom on the cement below and then was run over by a honking car.