Jonathan arrived at the mall where Chris and Melanie were waiting for him a good fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. He thought about how to kill time, debating whether he should go on-line or just hit the National Book Store. He settled on the latter and found that he'd made the right choice when he came out with a new book in his possession.

He went downstairs to get a drink of water and saw a face in the crowd that was starting to get very familiar. He went up to her as she was lining up to buy a lottery ticket.

Francesca was quietly waiting for the line to move so she could by a lottery ticket when she heard someone say to her: "You know something? We've got to stop meeting like this." She looked behind her and saw Jonathan standing there, grinning at her.

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Castillo," Francesca said. Then she asked: "But why don't you want to meet me anymore?"

Jonathan wondered briefly what Francesca was asking him about. "That's not what I meant, Francesca," he said, recalling his last statement. "That was a figure of speech. What I meant was that it's funny the way we keep running into each other."

She smiled as understanding came to her. "Ah, I see. So what are you doing here, Mr. Castillo?"

"I'm meeting Chris and Melanie—Coach and Mrs. Corpuz—for dinner," Jonathan explained. "How about you?"

"I just went to the grocery and now I'm on my way home," Francesca told him. "But I'm going to get a Lotto ticket first. You never know, I might get lucky." She moved up to the counter, got her ticket, and paid for it. She put it carefully in her wallet.

Jonathan picked up her grocery bags. "Let me get those for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Castillo," Francesca said. "You're such a gentleman."

"Hey, hang on a minute," Jonathan said. "If I get to call you Francesca, then you get to call me Jonathan, okay?"

Francesca nodded. "Okay. Calling you Mr. Castillo makes me feel like I'm talking to an old man."

"Well, I am older than you—but not that old." Jonathan set the grocery bags down near the stairs leading up to the mall's ground level. "Where are you going now?"

"Home," Francesca replied. "I have to make dinner and then review my lesson plan for tomorrow. I also have to get the audition schedules ready."

"You're starting auditions already?"

"By tomorrow, we'll make the announcement that the auditions are starting."

Jonathan nodded. "Well, I hope there's going to be a lot of students joining in on the fun." He paused a moment or two and then said: "Francesca, why don't you come and have dinner with me and the Corpuzes?"

"What?" Francesca asked.

"Have dinner with me and the Corpuzes," Jonathan repeated.

"Oh, no, I couldn't" Francesca said. "Besides, I can eat at home—"

"Why eat at home when you can eat with us?" Jonathan asked. "Besides, it's my treat. Come on."

Francesca was still hesitant. "I don't know..."

Jonathan persisted: "This way when you get home, you don't have to worry about doing your work on an empty stomach."

"Well...okay," Francesca finally agreed. At that moment, Jonathan's phone beeped. He took it out of his belt pouch and read the message in his inbox. It was from Chris; he and Melanie were already waiting at the restaurant he'd specified. He sent them a reply telling them that he was on the way.

"All right—and just in time too," Jonathan said merrily. "Coach and Melanie are already here. What say we go over to where they are?"

"Okay," Francesca agreed. "I think they'll be surprised."

"Maybe," Jonathan said. "By the way, I hope you don't mind Japanese food."

"Oh, of course not!" Francesca told him. "I love Japanese food."

"Oh, good," Jonathan said. "In that case, you're in for a treat."

"He says he's on his way," Chris told Melanie, reading the message that came from Jonathan.

"Good," Melanie remarked. "He's early."

"Yeah, that's a bit of a change." Chris took a sip of his Coke. "He lost his sense of punctuality after we went our separate ways."

"Good thing he's learning all over again," Melanie said. "It must have been tough for him." She'd known Jonathan from when he and Chris worked together and she already knew most of the stories surrounding the events that took place before their paths crossed again. Still, she had a feeling that there was still more than that. Jonathan, of course, played his cards close, refusing to dwell on those events.

"It was," Chris said. "Like I usually tell you, that was a good part of his life gone. I'm just glad we found a way to help him."

"He's not really into it, though, is he?" Melanie asked.

"If you mean missing meetings and things like that," Chris replied, "well, that's just the way he is. He didn't like having to sit down and bother over things that he thought weren't really all that important."

"I think he's just avoiding the talent show," Melanie pointed out.

"Maybe he is," Chris agreed. "But I'd rather not force him into it. I think that if he finds a good reason to get really involved, he will."

"I think he may have found all the reason he needs," Melanie observed. She gestured towards the restaurant's main entrance. She and Chris watched as Jonathan approached them with a couple of grocery bags in hand and Francesca right behind him.

"Hi, guys," Jonathan greeted them. "I hope you don't mind—I invited Francesca to join us for dinner."

"Not at all," Chris said. "Have a seat, Ces. We're glad you could join us." Melanie immediately stood up and sat down next to her husband so that Jonathan and Francesca would be sitting next to each other. Then she called over a waiter to bring them a menu. After placing their orders, Chris called for another round of iced tea. "So—what are you doing for the talent show, old buddy?" he asked Jonathan.

"He's going to write about it for a magazine," Francesca proudly told Chris and Melanie even before Jonathan could say anything. "He said he'd run it to his editor—"

"Run it through his editor," Melanie corrected her. "Or run it by his editor, Ces."

"Oh, I'm sorry for that," Francesca said. "He said he'd run it through his editor and then he'd start writing during the auditions."

"Is that right?" Melanie asked Jonathan.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, throwing a brief glance of annoyance at Francesca, who either didn't notice or didn't care. "I figured it was the least I could do. Good thing Mr. Delima agreed."

"Of course he would agree," Francesca said. "After all, that means there will be media coverage of the program."

"Well, don't count on that just yet," Chris told her. "After all, it's not like Jonathan's going to be bringing TV cameras with him. But it does give the school a chance to promote the talent show."

"Which is a good thing, more or less," Jonathan agreed, although he was thinking privately, Assuming there's anything worth promoting.

"Yes, it is," Francesca said. "This way, the people who read your work will see that there's more than bad news coming from the school. Isn't that right, Ma'am Melanie?"

"That's right," Melanie agreed. Among the four of them, she was the one who held the longest tenure in Holy Redeemer. She'd seen the school's worst times when there was at least one violent incident that took place inside the campus itself (usually involving the warring fraternities) on a school day and then, after classes were over, another incident would occur outside the school grounds. Some students had been thrown in jail, even though they were minors, because of their participation in those incidents. Mercifully, the dropout rate was kept to a minimum because most of the students regarded Holy Redeemer as a sanctuary from the trouble they faced. The few students they lost were quickly replaced. That didn't make it any easier for Melanie, though. She was always a firm believer that teachers are also second parents so it hit her hard when one of her own had to leave school for any reason.

"Well, it's not all bad news anymore," Chris chimed in. He reached under the table and squeezed his wife's hand gently. "There's been a lot of good going on too." Melanie smiled at her husband. When he came to Holy Redeemer, he quickly became a key player in turning things around for the students. He took over the junior varsity program and was, for a time, the head coach for football, track and field, and basketball. When he found the proper personnel to take over for him in the other sports, he finally focused his attention on the basketball team. Under his guidance, the team became a second family for the boys who played for the school. They helped keep each other out of trouble and in school. When Chris finally got put into the Physical Education department, he reached out to the neighborhood authorities and began holding semi-regular sports clinics for the kids from the areas surrounding the school. This not only started a closer cooperative relationship between Holy Redeemer and the neighborhoods within the vicinity, it also brought him talented young recruits who might otherwise have gone unnoticed. Within a few weeks' time, the faculty and administration were holding special classes for those adults who wished to work towards attaining a high school diploma, at least. Before long, the school had become part of the nearby communities' lives.

"Well, like they say, you take the good and the bad together," Jonathan remarked. "It's not perfect but it works pretty much most of the time."

"I'll say it does," Chris said. He raised his glass and Jonathan clinked his against it. Melanie and Francesca did the same.

When their food arrived, Jonathan was a little surprised when Francesca didn't ask for a spoon and fork to eat her ramen with like he expected she would. She used a pair of chopsticks just like the three of them did.

"How'd you learn to eat noodles that fast?" he finally asked her while she was having her glass refilled.

"Oh, I was actually going to go and work in Japan," Francesca replied. "I was already in training but when my licensure exam results came out and I passed, I decided not to go anymore." She smiled sheepishly. "Besides, I couldn't learn Japanese as well as I needed to in order to work there. Good thing my aunt owned the talent agency so she refunded part of my training expenses. She said I should be a teacher instead since we need teachers more than Japan needs entertainers."

"She's right," Jonathan said. "There are too many people who are just willing to sell their souls for a plane ticket out of here."

"But don't you want to work abroad?" Francesca asked him.

Jonathan looked down at his glass: "To be honest, I would but I wouldn't migrate for anything in the world. I take the same view as my father did: I was born here so why should I live anywhere else? So I'd rather work here above all else."

Melanie squeezed Chris' hand underneath the table; he shook his head surreptitiously.

"So you're a true Filipino," Francesca remarked. "That's nice."

"I just like it here better than anywhere else," Jonathan told her. He shrugged. "It's home."

"Yes, it is," Francesca agreed.

After dinner, Francesca was about to part company with her three fellow teachers but Jonathan insisted that she ride home with them. "That way, you don't have to commute for too long," he said.

"But I don't live that far from here," Francesca protested. "I could even walk if I wanted."

"And get mugged?" Jonathan pointed out.

"Mugged?" Francesca frowned.. "What does that mean?"

"It means if you walk at this time of the night, you might get held up and robbed," Jonathan explained. "Maybe even assaulted, what with you looking hot and all that."

"I look hot?" Francesca wanted to know.

"Yes, you do," Jonathan replied. "So come on—for my own peace of mind, please ride with us."

Francesca tried to think about it but all she could seem to focus on was his calling her hot. Part of her wanted to blush; the other part wanted her to kiss him. Luckily, she kept herself from doing either act. Instead she said: "All right. I'll go with you."

"He called her hot," Chris remarked as he and Melanie walked just ahead of Jonathan and Francesca.

"I heard," Melanie said. "He's either flirting or he's just talking at random again."

"Well, let's find out, huh?" Chris told his wife with a smile. When they reached the parking garage, he had Melanie sit up front. Normally, Jonathan sat beside Chris whenever they were driving around; when Melanie came with them, she sat in the back. He didn't seem to notice that he'd been maneuvered into sitting alongside Francesca.

"When are you getting seat belts that work for the back seat?" Jonathan asked.

"Just dig them out," Chris said. "It's not as if you need them anyway. You're not the one who'll get hit first in a head-on crash."

"Yeah—I'll just fly through the windshield out onto the hood," Jonathan retorted. "I repeat, man—get seat belts for the back. You and Mel might have kids one day so you should be thinking about keeping them safe when they cruise with you."

"We'll have them installed after next payday," Melanie told him. "Thanks for reminding us again." She looked in the mirror tied to the sun visor in front of her and saw that Jonathan had made more than enough room for Francesca to sit down. He'd placed her groceries between them.

"What is this stuff anyway?" Jonathan peeped into one of the bags. He saw vegetables, fresh meat, and fish. "You intend to cook all this?"

"Of course," Francesca answered him. "I like to be able to cook dinner for my family, you know."

Jonathan rummaged through a bag with chips and instant noodles in it. "You still live with your parents?"

Francesca nodded. "Yes. What about you?"

"My parents are dead," Jonathan said. "I live alone. Well, okay—I have a dog."

"A dog? What kind?" Francesca asked.

"Transylvanian forest stalker hound," Jonathan replied in a deadpan tone.

"Oh! He's imported?" Francesca said.

"He's just kidding you, Ces," Melanie interjected. "His dog's an askal, plain and simple."

"So he was born here," Jonathan argued, "but he's got unique markings."

"He looks like he's wearing a mask," Chris chimed in.

"Oh, that's so cute! I hope you can let me see your dog," Francesca said.

Jonathan gave her a lopsided grin. "Sure—come on over to my house sometime. Where do you live anyway?"

"Near here," Francesca told him. "Just after the intersection at the bottom of the bridge."

"What bridge?" Jonathan asked.

"The one behind the mall," Francesca replied. "I just forgot the name."

"I know where that is," Jonathan said. "In that case, you get to see where I live. I think it's better if I get dropped off first."

"Looks like it, man," Chris said, easing the car into traffic. "That way you also don't have an excuse for showing up late by saying you got home late."

"Hey—I haven't been late for longer than even I thought possible," Jonathan protested. "You should see the look on Survivor's face when he sees me up with the sun. The first few times he thought I was an impostor."

Even with traffic, it took just twenty minutes for Chris to arrive at Jonathan's house.

"Ah, home sweet home," Jonathan told his friend. "Thanks for the ride as always, my man." He was about to get out through the street-side door but Francesca beat him by getting out on the curb side. "Ah, thank you, Francesca." He exited the car and was about to head straight for his house but Francesca stopped him.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner with you, Jonathan," she said. "I enjoyed myself."

Jonathan shrugged. "You're welcome. Good luck with the auditions."

"Thanks," Francesca said. "You'll be there, won't you? To cover it for your magazine?"

"Well, yeah," Jonathan said. "I guess I will. I just hope the students who audition will be good."

Francesca nodded, saying, "We won't know until we hear them, right?"

"True. Anyway, get out of here. I'll see you in school tomorrow." Jonathan started backing up towards his house. He waved at her and to his two friends. "I'll see you guys. Drive safely now, okay?"

"Sure, man!" Chris yelled from the driver' seat.

"Good night, Jonathan," Francesca whispered before getting inside the car once more. He waved at them again, watching them leave until they were out of sight.

Jonathan spent the next couple of hours going over some topics that he wanted to discuss with his fourth-year class tomorrow. He also reviewed his proposal to the teachers he still needed to discuss Kelly's "home study" plan with the next day. When all his work-related activity was done, he put his notes and textbooks aside. He took out his journal and set it on the table next to him. Then he went over to the closet where he kept his last two guitars. He had a few more way back when but now he was down to the guitar his dad and his uncles used to own (he wound up with it partially by default and partially by good luck) and the very first electric guitar that he bought. For some reason, he felt like tooling around with some music. He ran his fingers randomly across the strings. Instinct, years of practice, and his own creativity kicked in and, before he knew it, he was actually picking something original out of his instrument.

Well, you've still got it, if ever you decide to use it again, he thought.

I do still use it, another part of him said. I still play from time to time.

And there was a time when you couldn't wait to get up in the morning and start playing, a strident yet not unkind voice in his head spoke up. Remember those days?

Those were good days, Jonathan knew. Jam, play, party, rock hard—he was living his childhood dream. But at a certain point, it all ground to a halt. It hurt, there was no denying that, but he figured that he was over it. And he was still playing for friends. The night before he started work at Holy Redeemer, in fact, he was at a gig with some of the guys that he'd hung out with during the good days. According to them, he played an awesome set but he didn't stick around to celebrate for too long. He went home early so that he could get to the school without missing a single class.

Jonathan couldn't help but remember that particular gig. All throughout their set, he was playing as if nothing else mattered in the world. Whether he was doing rhythm or lead, he made his guitar walk, talk, scream, shout, cry, and weep. Pretty soon, the crowd at the club was chanting his name and his band's name. He and his friends did two encores before he could make his getaway. In a way, it was like the good days—like that time in Los Angeles, for example. Or San Francisco. Or Vancouver. Or Tokyo. Or all those other nights when the music meant to him more than life itself—or, more to the point, when music became life itself , like he was standing in the center of the universe and he was moving the stars and the planets, arranging and rearranging the galaxies, when the future itself seemed not so far away.

His fingers tightened around his guitar's neck. What I wouldn't give for those days...he found himself wishing before he caught himself. He ran a chop down the strings angrily. Whether or not he liked it, those days were over, at least the way he knew them. No more riding high on his music. From here on in, music was strictly a sideline, at best.

But then, that wasn't so bad, was it? He'd had the good days—a long, long stretch of them. He'd seen what it was like, seen the good and the bad, seen the upside and downside. He had his time in the sun so wasn't it just right that he should step aside already and find something else to do?

That sounded logical except for one thing that gnawed daily at Jonathan's heart: he knew that their time hadn't been up when it ended. If anything, it was stolen from them by the one person that he figured he could trust, the one person whom he thought loved the music as much as he did. As it turned out, that person loved something—and someone, his mind couldn't resist adding—more than the music. And because of him, the dream came to an end before its time.

Stop it, he told himself. This isn't going to do you any good. Just remember: you can still play if you want. He can't. Or, at least, he won't anymore. Which, when you think about it, is the same thing, isn't it​?

That was most certainly true, Jonathan thought. But it certainly didn't take the gnawing in his heart away. He doubted if anything ever would.

At around twelve, he put his guitar away. Despite the troubled walk down memory lane, he was able to write something down in his journal—he didn't know what the chords amounted to just yet but maybe it was something he could put together. Maybe he could sell it to someone who was looking for a little music. Or maybe, just maybe, he thought, he could use it himself.

He was getting ready for bed when his cell phone beeped. He picked it up and read the message.

Hello, Jonathan, it read. Are you asleep already? It was signed Ces.

Not yet, he replied. And what are you still doing up?

I was just finishing my lesson plan for tomorrow, Francesca explained. How about you?

Same thing, was Jonathan's answer. School stuff.

Have Coach and Ma'am Melanie called you up? Francesca wanted to know.

No, Jonathan told her. Why?

Because they were teasing me about you on the way home, Francesca explained. They said you have no girlfriend. She sent that message first and then, a few moments later, added: Is that true​?

Is what true? Jonathan asked.

That you have no girlfriend, Francesca said by way of clarification.

Nope, Jonathan told her.

Why not? Francesca asked. You seem like the kind of guy that girls like.

It's a long story, Jonathan said and found himself adding: Maybe I can tell it to you sometime after class again. Over dinner or something like that.

Are you asking me out, Mr. Castillo? Francesca wanted to know. She put a smiley-face emoticon at the end of her question.

Jonathan thought about it before sending his reply: That depends. Are you free to be asked out?

Francesca asked him: What does that mean?

Jonathan decided not to mince words: I mean if you're free to hang out with me like Coach and Mel do, then, yeah, I am asking you out.

Francesca fell back into her bed, trying not to make a loud noise. Her sister and her mother were asleep already and she didn't want them rushing into her room, wondering what she was doing. She told Jonathan: Okay. Just let me know when you want to go out and hang out. She added another emoticon at the end of her message: :D.

Sure, Jonathan said. No problem. Now you should go to bed. You've got morning class tomorrow.

Thanks, I will, Francesca told him. You should go to sleep with me too.

Jonathan forced himself to ignore her grammatical error. He'd just correct her tomorrow. You go ahead. I have to patrol the city and prevent crime.

Why? Francesca asked. Are you a policeman?

No—I'm Batman, Jonathan confessed. Hahahahaha!

With a smile on her face, Francesca said: Hahaha. Yeah, right, sure. Good night, Jonathan. See you at school.

I'll be there, Jonathan said. Good night, Francesca. God bless and keep you always.

Thank you, Francesca replied. You too.

With that, Jonathan turned off his phone and set his alarm clock. He fell into bed, thinking about the chords in his journal—and about Francesca. Maybe he would attend the auditions; after all, if he was going to make some kind of effort at covering the talent show, he should cover the entire thing from start to finish. Maybe he could even find someone talented enough to give the chords in his journal justice when he was done fiddling with it. Kelly's cousin...Jonathan was hoping that Kelly could still take part in the show but if Cielo was as good as Gina and Shira were making her out to be, well...maybe, just maybe

He fell asleep dreaming about the last gig he had before he became a teacher. Once again, he could hear the crowds cheering for him as he wielded his guitar like a starlit sword in the night.