Chapter 15 — Unfinished Music

At six o'clock on Saturday morning, the sky was still dim, cold mist thinly covering the school yard when Gia Bảo stepped off the school bus, his backpack on his shoulder, including the performance uniform that his mother had carefully ironed the night before. Ms. Thanh got up earlier than usual to prepare a portion of sticky rice for him to bring for breakfast in the car, although she didn't say anything special other than a familiar warning: "Remember to keep warm, don't let your throat get cold."

The group of twelve people gathered in the school yard, everyone's faces were filled with a mixture of excitement and a bit of unavoidable tension before the first official day of competition. Ms. Hạnh walked around, checked each person's uniform, and gave a few final instructions before the group got on the bus and departed for Lê Quý Đôn High School, where this year's cluster level preliminary round was held.

In the car, Gia Bảo sat next to the window, looking at the sparsely populated streets passing by in the pale dawn light, his heart still filled with many mixed emotions. Quốc Huy, even though he was not a member of the club, had also asked for permission to follow along to cheer, sitting right in the back row, occasionally patting his friend on the shoulder and saying a few random words of encouragement.

Lê Quý Đôn High School's hall was not too large, enough to accommodate a few hundred people. The stage was simply decorated with a blue background printed with the School Choir Festival logo, and stage lights radiate warm light into the performance space. The auditorium was filled with competing teams from five or six schools in the cluster, along with a few teachers in charge and a few parents cheering, not as crowded and noisy as Gia Bảo had imagined in his nightmares, completely different from the image of a hall filled with people in his memories of ninth grade that had haunted him for many years.

The jury sat at a row of tables right in front of the stage, three people, including an older judge wearing black-rimmed glasses, were carefully writing something down on the scoring sheet even while the first team was still performing.

Nguyễn Trãi school's team was ranked fourth in the list of six teams. While waiting in the wings, Gia Bảo clearly felt his heart rate increasing with each passing minute, his hands were damp with sweat even though the early winter weather was quite cold. He looked around and saw that the other members of the group couldn't hide their excitement - Minh Thư was sitting quietly with his eyes closed and breathing deeply, Anh Kiệt was constantly twirling his fingers as if warming up before sitting on the piano, and Ngọc Diễm was standing next to the backstage door, secretly lifting the curtain to look out at the auditorium and then quickly turning back, shaking her head as if to dispel the tension.

"Are you okay?" Tường Vy asked, coming to stand next to Gia Bảo, her voice small but loud enough for only him to hear.

"My heart is beating like it's about to jump out of my chest," Gia Bảo confessed, trying to smile wryly.

"It's normal," Tường Vy replied, smiling reassuringly. "Everyone is feeling this way, including me. But do you remember what we practiced? You just need to look towards me, just like practice the other day, I'll always be there."

Gia Bảo nodded, tightly grasping the guitar strap hanging on his shoulder—he would not accompany the guitar in today's performance because Anh Kiệt was in charge of the piano, but he still carried the guitar as a habit, a small talisman that helped him feel more secure.

The previous team finished their performance amid polite applause from the auditorium, and immediately after, the host announced the name of the next team: "Please invite the Nguyễn Trãi High School Choir Club team."

The group stepped onto the stage in a well-rehearsed formation, the warm stage lights shining straight down, making Gia Bảo momentarily feel dizzy, his heart beating so fast that he thought the whole auditorium could hear his heartbeat. He stood in the correct position, right next to Tường Vy, trying to breathe evenly as she had instructed him during many practice sessions.

The first performance, the mandatory song "Song of School Age", rang out with the group's sure harmony, the familiar melody that they had practiced so much that it permeated every breath. Gia Bảo mixed his voice with everyone, the feeling of safety of a solid group helped him gradually regain his composure, his heart rate also slowed down a bit as the song went smoothly, receiving warm applause from the audience at the end.

But right after that came the optional performance, a folk song arrangement with his own singing, and Gia Bảo felt all the calm he had just regained suddenly shake violently. Anh Kiệt played the opening notes, the whole group sang in unison, and Gia Bảo joined in, but his mind had already started counting down the remaining beats before the part where he had to sing alone.

When the sound of the guitar gradually decreased, the whole group became silent just like the mix, that short moment of silence seemed to last forever in Gia Bảo's feelings. He felt his whole body stiffen, his breath stuck in his chest, and in a moment of panic, the memories of the ninth grade performance came back, terrifyingly sharp — the giggles, the dead silence, the feeling of standing still on the stage not knowing what to do.

But at that moment, he met Tường Vy's eyes, standing right next to him, not taking her eyes off him for a second. Those eyes contained absolute trust, a wordless message that he was not alone, that she was always there, ready to catch him if he stumbled.

Gia Bảo took a deep breath, and his voice rang out, trembling at the first words but quickly became steady again, his characteristic warm sound spread throughout the hall, clear, earnest, carrying with it the nostalgia for his grandfather, the nights he quietly held the guitar alone in his room, the long journey he went through to be able to stand here, right now, singing without having to run away.

The chorus ended, the group joined together again, pushing the song to a satisfying final climax, and when the final piano sound sounded, the whole stage was plunged into a brief moment of silence before applause erupted from all over the auditorium, including whistles of appreciation from somewhere behind, making the group unable to hide their radiant smiles as they bowed to the audience.

Stepping backstage, Gia Bảo felt like his legs were barely strong enough to stand, not because of physical fatigue, but because a wave of pent-up emotions over the past few weeks suddenly burst. Quốc Huy ran right from the audience seats and hugged his friend, his voice choked with emotion. "You did it, Gia Bảo, you really did it!"

The whole group surrounded him, hugs, laughter, and sincere compliments followed one after another. Ngọc Diễm even quickly wiped tears of emotion from the corner of her eyes, laughing when Anh Kiệt teased her. But in the midst of all that excitement, Gia Bảo's eyes found Tường Vy, and when the two looked at each other, without saying another word, they both clearly understood how meaningful the moment just now was.

"Thank you," Gia Bảo said softly, just loud enough for her to hear over the surrounding noise. "If it weren't for you standing there, I'm not sure I could sing at all."

"You can do it yourself," Tường Vy replied, smiling, her eyes sparkling with emotion. "I'm just standing there, and the singing is yours."

The results were announced after all six teams completed the competition, the whole hall waited silently while the judges consulted. When the elderly judge stepped on stage, held the microphone and announced the names of the three best teams that won spots in the city-level semi-finals, and the name "Nguyễn Trãi High School" rang out clearly through the speakers, the whole group simultaneously shouted with joy, hugging each other amidst applause and congratulations from their fellow teams.

Gia Bảo stood in the middle of that embrace, feeling a pure happiness that he had never allowed himself to feel in the past three years, a feeling of belonging to something bigger than himself, a feeling of a victory not only for the team, but also his own victory over the fear that had haunted him for so many years.

On the bus back to school in the afternoon, the whole group was still busy talking about their competition, reviewing every moment, and laughing non-stop. But as the car gradually approached the school, a feeling of exhaustion began to invade Gia Bảo, not the usual physical fatigue, but a strange emptiness after the intense wave of emotions all morning had subsided.

He pulled out his phone, intending to text his mother the good news, but then hesitated, his finger hovering over the screen. He realized that he had never told his mother clearly the specific date and time of the exam, as well as the exact location, partly because he was still shy and didn't know how to invite her to watch, partly because he was afraid that if she knew the exact time, she would be even more worried and anxious all morning alone at home.

He just texted a short line: "Mom, my team did very well and made it to the semi-finals." The message was sent, and just a few minutes later, his mother replied, along with a small heart emoji: "I'm happy for you. Be careful coming home."

Gia Bảo looked at that message for a long time, feeling a warmth mixed with an emptiness that was hard to name. He knew his mother was truly happy for him, but he also knew that she was not there, could not witness the moment he stood on stage, sang loudly amid the warm lights, could not see clearly with her own eyes that her son was truly different from the boy who stood dumbfounded on the stage years ago.

That small gap, even though his mother had signed the permission form and tried to put her worries aside for him, was still there, silently existing between mother and son, like a string that had not been completely tightened.

Gia Bảo leaned his head against the bus window, looking at the sunset dyeing the sky orange in the distance. His heart was both filled with the joy of a small victory with the team, while also carrying a deep fatigue that he had never experienced before - the fatigue of a person who had just exhausted all his courage and emotions to overcome a large mountain, only to realize that there were still many other mountains waiting ahead, including a mountain named the distance between him and the mother who loved him so much.

Quốc Huy sat next to him, noticed his friend's sudden pensive look, and softly asked: "What are you thinking about? Today is a wonderful day."

"Yes," Gia Bảo replied, forcing a smile, "it was a wonderful day." But he didn't say anything more, just quietly turned back to look out the window, where the roadside trees passed by in the sunset, carrying in his heart both happiness and a vague anxiety about what was still waiting ahead, on the longer journey that he and the whole club were about to continue, towards the city-level semi-finals.