Jonathan sat in the canteen, reviewing his notes about the auditions. It was already Wednesday; according to Francesca, the auditions would end on Friday. He still hadn't seen any sign of Shira, Gina, or Cielo. He wondered if they had changed their minds about trying out for the show. Too bad, he thought. That would've made things a bit livelier. He'd seen the quality of the aspiring performers and, truth be told, they weren't all as bad as he thought they might be. Of course, he had a feeling that if he heard anyone singing anything by Celine Dion, Mariah Carrey, or Regine Velasquez within the next couple of days, he'd go on a rampage.

As he was trying to make a coherent article out of his notes, he noticed a bottle of Tropicana orange juice slide into his field of vision. He looked up and saw Charlie standing across the table.

"Don't you have class?" Charlie asked with his usual wry smile.

"Not for half an hour," Jonathan replied. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, the thing is..." Charlie began tentatively, dropping his too-tough pose slightly, and then said a bit more steadily: "Mind if I go jam with you at your house after class?"

"Jam with me?" Jonathan leaned back in his chair and eyed Charlie suspiciously. "What's this all about?" Charlie was another semi-regular guest at Jonathan's house and the only student he had who knew about his background. He usually went when he knew that there were no other students present, preferring to study or play guitar alone. When Jonathan noticed that he had more than a little talent for it, he brought out his own guitar and they started jamming together. From time to time, some of Jonathan's old friends came over. After watching Charlie play, they never failed to compliment him on his ability—and tease Jonathan about reforming his band with Charlie as his side man.

"I was thinking about, you know, auditioning," Charlie told him. "I need a place to practice because things get busy at home."

"And what's that got to do with me?" Jonathan asked. "Why do I have to practice with you?"

"Because you play good, sir," Charlie said. Using "sir" meant that he was serious, Jonathan knew. But there was probably more than that so he waited until Charlie added: "And I was hoping maybe you could play alongside me during the show."

"Assuming you pass the audition," Jonathan said.

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, but I think I can do it. Besides, sir, don't you feel like playing in front of people again? It's been years since you did that. Don't you miss it?"

Jonathan thought about it briefly. "Nope. But you can come over later anyway. But I've got visitors coming so try not to make a jackass of yourself, okay?"

Charlie grinned. "Who's coming? Some more bands?"

"Just one," Jonathan said. "A couple of old friends of mine on the comeback trail. You ever heard of Wild Heart?"

"Yeah!" Charlie said. "They had that huge hit…what was the title? 'The River And The Sun', right? They're coming over to your house later to jam with you?"

Jonathan shrugged noncommittally. "Yeah, that's right. Maybe we might even work on a new song. But they aren't the only ones coming. A few freshmen are coming over to rehearse their audition piece too. They're the ones who almost got into a fight with Barbara Viceral and her two idiot sidekicks."

"Oh, okay." The incident barely registered in Charlie's memory anymore. He had other things to think about. "What time are they coming?"

"After classes, of course. As for my friends, they're picking me up here. You can ride with us if your day's done by then." Jonathan checked his watch. "Speaking of which, it's time to get to work. Thanks for the juice. If you're coming along, meet me outside the school at four."

"If I can't make it, I'll just commute, sir," Charlie said.

"See you later then." Jonathan unscrewed the cap off the bottle and took a sip as he left the canteen. A little past the administration building, he bumped into Francesca.

"Whoa, sorry about that," he said, reaching out instinctively to steady her. "You all right?"

"Yes, thank you," Francesca said. "I'm sorry—I didn't see you, Jonathan."

"Same here," Jonathan said. He abruptly noticed that he was still holding on to her arms and let her go. "Let me get these for you." He picked up a sheaf of papers and a folder that had fallen from Francesca's hands. "What are these—evaluation forms from the auditions?"

"Yes," Francesca said. "I was reading them so that's why I bumped you."

He handed the folder back to her, thinking, Good thing I didn't spill any juice on her.

"Found any good ones yet?"

"There are some who will probably be chosen," Francesca said. "But I still have to read through these again." Then she asked: "You were at the auditions too, right?"

"Uh-huh," Jonathan said. "Why do you ask?"

"Who do you think will be accepted?"

"Well, I didn't see all the performers," Jonathan said carefully. "But you're right—there are a bunch of good ones and it's going to be very hard to pick and choose from them." He took something out of his shirt pocket. "Luckily, I videotaped them."

"You did?" Francesca asked. "Can I watch it? That way, it will help me to determine who really belongs in the talent show."

"Sure but maybe we should wait until the auditions are over, Francesca."

"Well, all right. That would be better. It's a good thing you brought that videocam with you."

"I figured I might need it." Jonathan put the camera back in his shirt pocket. That was when he noticed that he was outside his classroom already. "Well, this is where I get off."

"Get off from what?" Francesca asked.

Jonathan shook his head and smiled at her. "I'll explain next time. I guess I'll see you at the auditions again."

"Yes, that would be nice." Francesca smiled back at him. "Have a nice day, Jonathan." She waved at him as she walked away. He waved back and then went inside the room. Right off the bat, he saw the grins on his students' faces.

"What?" he asked his students.

"Sir, Ms. Francisco is single," Regino Sandico spoke up. "And she's very much available."

"What are you talking about—" Jonathan caught the gist of his statement. "Knock it off. I don't even know her."

"So get to know her some more, sir!" Regino told him. The rest of the class expressed their agreement.

Jonathan raised his index finger in his "quiet-class" gesture. The students obeyed reluctantly. "No matchmaking, please," he told them. "Especially when it's me you're trying to match with someone. Besides, I've got enough trouble dealing with all of you. Take out one whole sheet of paper; we've got an essay test today!" He laughed gleefully as his students began to comply grudgingly with his instructions. "No complaints—you have to practice your English, remember?"

He watched with quiet satisfaction as they went to work. For one thing, they weren't saying anything about him and Francesca. It wasn't that he didn't think she was worth hanging out with—and that was the extent of his interest in her, he told himself rather more firmly than necessary—he just didn't consider it aboveboard to be fraternizing with a co-worker. The last time he did that, he mused, he wound up…well, he wound up giving up a large part of his life and accepting a job offer from his old English teacher.

Water under the bridge, he reminded himself, leaning back in his chair and reading though his notes again, writing out a rough draft of his article. Since his editor-in-chief accepted his idea about covering the talent show (apparently, his editor actually remembered when Holy Redeemer produced consistently excellent artistic talent) so he wanted his work to be just right.

Someone walked up to his desk and handed in her paper. It was, to no surprise on his part, Cielo.

"Done already?" Jonathan remarked.

"Yes, sir," Cielo said.

"All right. Please return to your seat, Ms. Guzman, and wait for the rest of the class to finish." He put Cielo's paper underneath his reference book and resumed his work on the draft of his article. A few minutes later, the rest of the class began to hand in their papers. When he'd collected them and shoved them into his plastic folder, he said: "So—who among you have auditioned already?"

The class spoke among themselves and then Regino said: "None of us, sir."

Jonathan's eyebrow arched upward like The Rock's. "Is that so, Mr. Sandico? And why might that be?"

"Because we want it to be a class production, sir," Shira told him. "We decided that whoever comes up with a good idea for a performance, then the entire class would support them."

"I see." Jonathan considered that point for a few moments before saying: "And thus far, your idea is a dance number?"

"Yes, sir," Shira said. "We've got the group together already."

"Will the members of the group stand up, please?" he asked. Shira, Gina, Kaye Caliwanagan, Talina Hadar rose from their seats—to be joined by Helen Subanon. Again, Jonathan was a bit surprised. From what he knew, Helen used to run with Barbie Viceral and her two lackeys. But then she transferred sections for some unspecified reason and was now out of the orbit of her former clique.

"There are five of you now?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Gina replied. "Helen decided to join us and she's been helping choreograph our number."

"Is she any good at it?" Jonathan asked candidly.

Shira nodded. "She's very good, sir." Gina seconded that opinion.

Jonathan drummed his fingers on his desk, eyeing Helen evenly. She looked back at him, as if daring him to ask the unspoken question on his mind. He decided not to; instead he said: "When are you going to audition?"

"Either tomorrow or Friday, sir," Regino answered. "We're still picking the music and designing the costumes."

"You're cutting it pretty close," Jonathan pointed out. "I hope you realize that if you don't do well during the audition, it's going to reflect badly on the entire class."

"We know that, sir," Shira said. "And we're going to do our best to make sure that we pass the audition."

"You'd better," Jonathan told them. "Remember—I'm going to be writing about this whole talent show and I don't want to have to write that you guys suck."

"How are the auditions going, sir?" Regino asked.

"Not so bad," Jonathan replied. "But I haven't seen anything that would make me sit up and notice, if you understand what I mean."

"So there hasn't been anybody good yet?" Shira wanted to know.

"I'm not saying there weren't any good performances," Jonathan explained. "There were. It's just that if I were the one running the whole thing, I want the show to be extra special since it's supposed to be the highlight of the school year next to commencement for the seniors—at least that's what the principal said. So I want to assemble a lineup of talents that can deliver really memorable acts on stage."

Shira and the others were silent. What their teacher had said struck a chord in them; he was right, after all. The talent show wasn't just about letting the students show off their abilities on stage. It wasn't just about raising money for the school. It was about bringing the school together. The talent show was something that allowed Holy Redeemer to take some pride in itself, in the people who made up the entire school.

"We promise you, sir," Shira told him. "We're going to do our best. No—we'll do better than our best."

After briefly discussing the following day's lesson with his class and assigning their homework, Jonathan left the room to go to the auditorium where the last of the day's auditions were taking place. He took the video camera out of his shirt pocket and turned it on, reviewing the footage recorded in its memory.

"Sir!" he heard someone call him. He turned around to see Barbie Viceral, followed by her two sidekicks and a bunch of other girls.

"Are you coming to watch us audition for the talent show?" she asked as she approached him.

"I'm covering it for a magazine that I'm working for," Jonathan said.

"Oh?" Brenda said. "What magazine is that, sir?"

"Smash," Jonathan replied. "It's kind of a pop-culture journal." When he saw the blank look on Brenda's face, he added: "It's sort of like Pulp."

"Yuck," Rita said, "that magazine looks like it's made for drug addicts and perverts."

"Well," Jonathan said with a slight smirk on his face, "it's not all that bad. Although I have to admit, it's not one of my favorite things to read."

"Is that a video camera?" Brenda wanted to know, noticing the machine in Jonathan's hands. "Are you going to record the auditions, sir?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Uh-huh. I need it so that I can report on the auditions accurately."

"You couldn't have asked for a better subject than me, sir," Barbie said. "Isn't that right, girls?"

"That is so true," Rita said. "Barbie is so drop-dead gorgeous," Brenda added. The other girls tagging along agreed with their opinions.

Jonathan refrained from playing off Brenda's comment; instead, he said: "In that case, I'll make sure I get some good footage of you."

"You can start now, if you want, sir." Barbie stood in front of Jonathan and assume what he figured was her idea of a model's pose, complete with a look on her face that was supposed to be saucy. To Jonathan's eye, she reminded him of a groupie that he once ran into backstage during a concert he watched in Los Angeles. She tried seducing him but he declined for fear that she was incubating some form of STD inside her.

"Uh, nice," he said diplomatically, pretending to shoot footage of her. "But I think you'd better get to the gym already. I'll just wait for you and your crew to come out and perform."

"Thank you, sir," Barbie said. "You'll be impressed—I promise you that." She and her entourage made their way to the gym's side entrance. He went in by way of the back door that passed by the control room where the lighting and sound systems were operated. He found a nice, unobtrusive spot to be able to film the performers as they demonstrated their talents and then activated the camera.

Barbie bent down as she warmed up with a series of stretches, just like she learned in dance class when she was younger. Her backup dancers did a few stretches of their own but mainly chatted among themselves.

I wish they'd take this seriously, she thought with more than a touch of annoyance. Just because her crew members were a year below her, that didn't mean that they could slack off in such a blatant manner.

Barbie finally decided to crack the whip. "Are you going to warm up or not?" she snapped. Her backups fell quiet and she led them through another round of stretching. After that, she went through the routine, making sure that each girl had the steps down perfect. She didn't want anyone losing their rhythm and breaking the pace of the number.

A few moments later, Brenda and Rita approached her. "Barbie," Brenda said, "it's your turn."

"Good luck, Barbie," Rita added.

"I don't need luck," Barbie told her witheringly. "I'm too good to need luck." She led her group to the stage and signaled everyone to take their places. One of the technicians handed her a wireless mike as she went to the front of the group. Despite her initial confidence, Barbie actually felt a twinge of nervousness. Once more, her memories of losing out to Raquel Montes threatened to flood her mind.

She looked at the gym and saw Jonathan at the back, the camera aimed at the stage. His free hand came up and he pointed at her with two fingers. Barbie took it as her cue to start. She still felt a little nervous as their number began but she quickly got over it. All she had to do, she soon discovered, was focus on the camera—or, perhaps more accurately, on the person holding the camera. She maintained eye contact with Jonathan as much as possible throughout her performance, shutting out everything else. When their number finally ended, she felt as if she had been in a trance. Jonathan stood where he was but Barbie thought she could see a hint of a smile on his face. She curtsied just to let him know that she appreciated his encouragement.

Jonathan had to admit: despite what he thought of her, Barbie had talent. He remembered his words to Shira and her group. From all indications, they really would have to do incredibly well to even come close to the performance he just witnessed.

He was checking the footage he'd taken when Barbie ran up to him. "Sir, how did we do? Be honest—were we good?" she wanted to know.

"I think you were very good, senior," he said. "You've probably got a better than even chance of getting into the final lineup."

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" Barbie said. "You can tell me if it wasn't good, sir."

"Ms. Viceral, your performance was first-rate," Jonathan assured her. "If I were one of the judges, I'd include you in the show. However, it isn't in my hands."

"You really think we'll pass the audition, sir?" Barbie pressed him in a somewhat doubtful tone of voice that he didn't hear her use too often.

Jonathan gave her a cheerful smile. "You've got a good chance of making it. So don't worry too much, okay?"

"All right, sir," Barbie said. "If you say so, I guess it will be okay."

Jonathan nodded. "That's what I said. Now get back to class if you still have any. I'm going to stick around here for a few more performances."

"Okay. Thanks, sir." Barbie favored him with another winning smile and then she told her two sidekicks to bring her stuff. Then she exited the gym. Jonathan watched her with a bemused expression on his face before turning his attention back to the next performer on stage.

Three performances later, Jonathan headed back to his classes. Once he was done with them, he went to the faculty room to pack up for the day. Melanie wasn't around so he passed by the gym one more time to tell Chris he was going home.

"You're off in a hurry," Chris remarked. "What's going on?"

"Visitors," Jonathan replied. "One of your former players is coming over."

Chris picked up a loose ball rolling his way and threw it back towards his players. "You mean Charlie?"

"Yeah, Charlie Gonsalves," Jonathan said. "He's thinking of auditioning for the talent show so wants to jam at my house."

"Need a drummer?" Chris asked jokingly.

"Nah, not this time," Jonathan replied. "It's just him playing guitar anyway. It's not as if I'm going to be playing with him. By the way, Tecs and Larry are picking me up today."

Chris' interest was piqued by that little tidbit. "Yeah? Are they going to your house too?"

Jonathan nodded. "I think they've got a song that they want written. They want my help, for what it's worth."

"Well, maybe it's going to be worth a lot," Chris said. He blew his whistle and practice on the basketball court stopped. "I have to get back to my team, man. You be careful going home, okay?"

"Sure," Jonathan said. He was about to leave but Chris stopped him. "And thanks for taking care of Charlie. And Nico," he told Jonathan.

Jonathan shrugged. "I'm their teacher, at least for now. What else am I supposed to do?"

"That's true." Chris clapped his shoulder. He knew that the minute Jonathan could get out, he would. But he was doing some good, even if it meant not following every rule there was.

"Well, I'll see you and Melanie tomorrow, Chris," Jonathan said, walking away. "Don't push those kids too hard."

Charlie was already waiting outside while Jonathan was speaking with Chris at the gym. He had his guitar with him in its protective case which he slung over his shoulder next to his backpack. His watch showed that it had just turned four in the afternoon. He quietly thanked Mrs. Ulan for allowing him to get off his afternoon shift early. Usually, he helped close down the canteen before being allowed to go home.

"Hey, Charlie!" someone shouted. He turned to his left, thinking it was Jonathan but it wasn't. It was Milo Yulo.

"What do you want, Milo?" he asked, not bothering to conceal his annoyance at seeing the skinny, crew-cut gangster-rapper wannabe.

"Cool, man, just be cool," Milo told him smoothly. "Is that any way to talk to an old friend?" Charlie's reaction was a grimace. He and Milo used to be in the same "fraternity". The two of them, in fact were among the top members of their particular organization. The head of their frat—a local thug named Idol—regarded them both as worth successors since the two of them displayed the aggressiveness and ruthlessness needed to maintain their frat's top position in the area around the school. More often than not, when there was a fight between their frat and another group, Milo and Charlie were right in the middle of it. But although they were both fearless when it came to street fights, Charlie was much more intelligent than Milo. He had the ability to talk his way out of trouble and, on more than one occasion, had been able to convince a rival frat to either walk away before any violence took place or—to Idol's delight—persuade them to become allies. Those talents had Charlie earmarked for leadership down the line—until he wised up and quit the frat.

"What do you want?" Charlie repeated.

"You've got your guitar again, huh, Charlie?" Milo remarked. "You're playing again, huh? Remember when we used to jam, Charlie? That was a lot of fun." Milo was actually the one who taught Charlie the basics of playing guitar but it didn't take long for Charlie to outdo him. Milo, for one, had no patience to expand his talent. Charlie, once he mastered the basics, began to study the instrument on his own, sometimes even skipping frat activities to stay in the library and read about guitar technique and music in general.

"Yeah, we had fun," Charlie admitted, then added: "That's why I decided to stick with playing guitar instead of getting myself beaten up every night."

"Hey, Charlie—we're the ones who beat people up, remember?" Milo corrected him.

"Whatever, Milo," Charlie said. "Anyway, that's the past. I don't need that anymore."

"Okay, that's what you want, Charlie," Milo said, hands up in a placatory gesture, "then that's what you'll get. I know you quit because you wanted to play your guitar and be a big rock star, you know?" He smiled, showing a mouth missing several teeth. Those that remained were crooked and discolored.

"No, I quit because I didn't want to throw my future away," Charlie told him. Just then, Jonathan came out.

"Hey, Charlie," Jonathan said, completely ignoring Milo. "You got out early."

"Yeah, I did," Charlie said. "I told Mrs. Ulan I had to go run an important errand with you. Isn't that right?"

Jonathan smiled wryly. Well, in a way, Charlie had told the truth to his boss in the canteen, "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Good afternoon, sir," Milo greeted Jonathan, smiling in an eager-to-please kind of way. "Sidecar, sir?" He gestured towards the pedicab he had parked nearby.

"We've got a ride," Jonathan told him as he watched a gray FX approaching the school. "Thanks anyway." The FX parked right in front of them and the driver's-side window opened to reveal Gerry "Tecs" Tecson at the wheel.

"Hey, Jonathan—hope we aren't late," Tecs said with a smile that could still make the ladies swoon, even if it was a whole lot older than it was.

"Not at all," Jonathan assured him. "You're just in time." He turned towards Charlie. "Let's go, junior."

"I'll see you again, Charlie," Milo called after him as he boarded the FX. Charlie didn't bother to respond. The FX drove off, leaving Milo standing where he was, thinking to himself, Oh, yeah, you bet, Charlie, you're going to see me again. Oh, yes, you will.

"What was that all about, junior?" Jonathan asked Charlie as they were waiting at an intersection for the light to turn green.

"What, sir?" Charlie replied absently. His mind was on tuning his guitar.

"What did Yulo want from you?" Jonathan wanted to know.

"Nothing, sir," Charlie told him. "He was probably just looking for someone to talk to and saw me."

Jonathan considered that thought. "He didn't try to recruit you for anything?"

"No, sir. He didn't."

"That's good. I suppose he's harmless now but it wouldn't hurt to keep your distance."

"I will, sir."

Jonathan nodded and let the subject go. Charlie went back to tuning his guitar.