Reunited

Chapter Three

        Josephine got out of the Recital Room and looked around for her teacher. She found the professor sitting on the right side of the door, sobbing. Jo stooped down beside Professor Fox.

        "Professor," Jo calmly spoke. "What seems to be bothering you?"

        The professor looked up to Jo. "Well, Miss Borromeo," He once again rolled his r's upon pronouncing Jo's surname. "I seem to be feeling nostalgic once I heard your recital." He wiped his tears with his white handkerchief. "You see, that was the piece that the love of my life last played, before she passed away."

        Jo covered her mouth, shocked.

        "Oh, Sophie. My darling, my dearest and long deceased." Professor Fox wiped his eyes once again. "Josephine, I deeply apologise for walking out on your recital. I know I did not mean to do so, but I cannot help myself from remembering."

        "It's okay, professor. I understand." Jo patted the back of her teacher, trying to comfort him.

        "Well, enough melodrama for today." The professor stood up. Jo followed, and stood up. "I better get back inside and give my critic."

        Both of them went inside the Recital Room.

        The choir room was filled with noise as the boys compared with their assignment given by their choirmaster. Some were laughing; others were not even quite sure whether they got the tune right. Joseph was calmly sitting down on one of the chairs gathered around the piano.

        A boy whose age was similar to Joseph's sat down beside him.

        "Hullo, Joseph." The boy greeted him.

        "Oh, hi there Michael." Joseph greeted back.

        "How's your folk song?"

        "Good, I got help from my father."

        "Oh, so this means this is the song that we're going to sing for the tour then."

        Joseph's father, John, was also a member of the choir Joseph has become a part with. John was noted to be one of the greatest soloists the choir has ever had, pronouncing the Latin words as if they slid across his tongue with ease.

        "Really Michael? Do you think so?"

        "Oh, yes. I have a strong feeling with that. Mr. Fox couldn't agree more, moreover that your father gave you help."

        Mr. Fox came inside the choir room.

        "Sorry I'm a wee bit late for today's run through, lads." He walked briskly towards the grand piano in the centre.

        The room became silent.

        "Did you do your assignment?" Mr. Fox asked.

        "Yes, sir." The choir chorused.

        "Except for Thomas since he hasn't got an internet connection in his household," The choirmaster continued. "I will be listening to all of your researched songs. I'll be starting with the last surname, with August Young."

        Everyone shuffled in their own seats, quite nervous. They had to make sure they had their pronunciation right and to remember the unfamiliar tunes to their folk song. August, a boy of thirteen, stood up and approached the centre of the room.

        "Okay, August, what song do you have for us today?" Mr. Fox asked as he started writing unto a large notebook with his pencil.

        "I came across this song entitled, 'Ti Ayat Ti Maysa Nga Bulan'." August had given strong emphasis on the t's and s's.