Chapter 29 — Unfinished Music

The days after the final round passed with an atmosphere of relief spreading throughout Nguyễn Trãi school, especially in the second floor hallway where the music room was located. News of the Choir Club's second prize was quickly posted on the school bulletin board, accompanied by a photo of the whole group standing on stage with a sparkling silver trophy, bright smiles on each face. There were students who had never paid attention to the club before and now stopped in front of the bulletin board, pointed and discussed, and many times Gia Bảo heard stories from underclassmen about wanting to register to join the club next school year.

But amid that joy, the grind of senior year had not slowed down. There was just over a month left until the high school graduation exam, and a tense atmosphere of revision covered all twelfth-grade classes, including Gia Bảo's class 12A4 and Tường Vy's class 12A2. In the evenings, instead of practicing singing, Gia Bảo now spent most of his time sitting at his desk, solving problems and reviewing formulas. Sometimes he made video calls with Tường Vy to check their homework together, each with a corner of the desk, the phone screen tilted as they occasionally looked up to ask each other a difficult question before hunching over to do the next lesson.

Even though they were busy, the Choir Club still tried to maintain a weekly meeting—not for stressful practice sessions, but simply to sit together, sing a few songs for fun, review memories of the whole school year, and discuss handing over the club to the tenth- and eleventh-grade members who would take over when the twelfth-graders graduated.

One Wednesday afternoon after school, the whole group gathered in the music room as usual. Ngọc Diễm, who would be one of the last veteran twelfth-graders to leave the club, brought a box of homemade cookies and placed it on a small table in the middle of the room.

"I think we should start thinking about finding a successor as team leader," she said, taking a bite of a cookie and looking at Tường Vy. "You're about to graduate, Tường Vy, the club needs someone to lead the next school year."

"I've thought about that," Tường Vy nodded, her eyes looking around the music room with a bit of nostalgia. "I think Minh Thư will be a good choice. She has a good voice, is hard-working, and most importantly, she understands the feeling of a beginner, timid, scared, like I saw in her at the beginning of the year."

Minh Thư, sitting in the corner of the room holding the guitar that Gia Bảo was teaching her a few basic chords, looked up when she heard her name being mentioned, her eyes widening in surprise. "You... you think I can do it?"

"I believe you can do it," Tường Vy replied, smiling warmly. "I still remember the first day you auditioned, you were so shaken that you didn't dare look straight at anyone. Now, seeing you stand firmly in the most difficult high part of the whole song, I know you're ready to lead others, the same way you were once led."

Anh Kiệt, sitting next to the piano, nodded in agreement. "I'll stay and be her advisor for another year. After all, I'm still in Eleventh grade. Don't worry, Minh Thư, with me and Ms. Hạnh supporting you, you don't have to do it alone."

Ms. Hạnh, standing at the door of the music room listening to the conversation, walked in with a gentle smile. "I think this is exactly how a club should operate — those who go before lead those who follow, and so on, the fire is passed on. You don't know, but looking at you sitting here today, discussing the succession of a club that a year ago was still at risk of disbanding, I find it one of the most meaningful things I've ever witnessed in my teaching career."

Gia Bảo sat quietly in a corner, listening to the conversation, feeling both warm and sad at the same time - the familiar feeling of realizing an important chapter in your life was about to close. He looked around the music room, looked at the blackboard in the corner of the room that was still dotted with small music notes he had scribbled over the past year, looked at the old piano that Anh Kiệt often played, looked at the window where the orange afternoon light still poured down every practice session like it had from the first day he timidly entered this room.

"What are you thinking?" Tường Vy asked, sitting down next to him, noticing his thoughtful eyes.

"I was thinking about how much things have changed," Gia Bảo replied, smiling slightly. "A year ago, I was standing at the back of this room, trying to act indifferent, telling Quốc Huy that I would never join any club related to singing. Looking back now, I can't imagine what my life would be like if I turned around and left that day."

"But you didn't leave," Tường Vy said, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. "You stayed. That's the most important thing."

A few weeks later, the high school graduation exam took place, and the whole Nguyễn Trãi school was immersed in the tense atmosphere typical of exam season. Gia Bảo and Tường Vy, along with other members of the club who were in grade 12, spent two weeks just studying, seeing each other much less, conversations mainly took place through text messages encouraging each other to try their best, accompanied by a few photos of desks littered with books and a small heart icon.

Then the exam passed, like all other exams did, and when the results were announced, the whole group texted each other the news that night, each with a message full of excitement and relief. Gia Bảo passed with a pretty good score, enough to enroll in his desired major at a university in a big city. Tường Vy, not surprisingly to those who had heard her sing, achieved excellent scores in Literature and qualified to enroll in the Music Education major at a prestigious pedagogical university in the same city.

"What school did you apply to?" Tường Vy asked, as the two sat on a familiar stone bench in the school yard, under the shade of a red poinciana tree, signaling that summer had truly come.

"I registered to major in Information Technology at a technical university," Gia Bảo replied. "Same city as your Teacher's College."

"Did you choose that city because of your school?" Tường Vy asked, her voice a bit teasing but her eyes seriously waiting for an answer.

Gia Bảo laughed and held her hand. "Partly because it's a school with a major I like and a good training program. But honestly, yes, a big part is because I don't want to leave you, Tường Vy. This whole year, you've taught me so many things — how to face my fears, how to believe in myself, how to let music come back into my life. I don't want all of that to stop when we graduate."

"Me too," Tường Vy said, her eyes shining with emotion. "I was worried a lot about being away from you when I went to college, afraid that the distance would make everything fade away. But now that I know we'll be in the same city, I feel relieved. I also heard that your engineering school has a pretty famous student music group, are you planning on joining?"

"I'm considering it," Gia Bảo replied, a slight smile on his lips. "After everything I've been through this year, I don't think I'll ever let myself hide my voice again."

Nguyễn Trãi School's graduation ceremony took place on a morning at the end of June, under a clear blue sky without a single cloud, the school yard was decorated with white balloons and red silk ribbons, the Twelfth grade students wore black graduation gowns, square hats, sitting in neat rows in front of a makeshift stage in the middle of the school yard.

After the formal graduation ceremony and emotional speeches from the principal and student representatives, the farewell music program began, and the MC announced the name of the last special performance: "Farewell performance of the school Choir Club, with the participation of all graduating Twelfth grade members."

Gia Bảo, Tường Vy, Ngọc Diễm stepped onto the temporary stage in the middle of the school yard, along with Anh Kiệt and Minh Thư - although the latter two did not graduate this year, the group still wanted to sing together one last time before the Grade 12 students left school. The morning sunlight shone down on the outdoor stage, not a bright stage light like at the Youth Cultural House, but a natural, warm, gentle light, covering each person's shoulders with a layer of pale gold.

They sang a part of "Unfinished Song", the song that had accompanied them throughout the school year, witnessed many tears, many smiles, many moments of fear and courage. The entire schoolyard listened silently, then applauded loudly when the song ended. Many parents and lower grade students stood up to respond, including Ms. Thanh, standing in the parents' row, clapping nonstop, her face beaming with happiness.

After the ceremony, when the school yard gradually emptied of people, the whole club group gathered in a corner of the yard under the shade of an old poinciana tree, taking one last photogether in their bachelor's gowns. Everyone tried to hold back their tears but failed. Ngọc Diễm hugged Minh Thư, telling her to take good care of the club. Anh Kiệt shook Gia Bảo's hand tightly, promising to keep in touch and inform him every time the club had new achievements. Quốc Huy, even though he was not a member of the club, also ran to hug Gia Bảo, saying how proud he was of his friend.

"Do you remember the first day I dragged you into the music room?" Quốc Huy asked, his voice choked with emotion even though he still tried to joke as usual. "At that time, I just thought I was teasing you a little, but who knew it would change your whole life."

"Thank you for pulling me into it," Gia Bảo replied, hugging his best friend tightly. "Thank you for always being by my side, no matter how stubborn I am."

Ms. Hạnh stood looking at the group from afar, tears rolling down her cheeks but the smile on her lips never faded. When Gia Bảo and Tường Vy came to say goodbye to her, she hugged them both, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I have been teaching for many years and have seen many generations of students grow up and leave this school," she said. "But your group, the group that together saved the Choir Club from the danger of dissolution, together going from the preliminary round to the final round in the city, will always have a special place in my heart. I hope that you, no matter where you go or what you do, never lose the love for music that you have rediscovered this year."

"We won't forget," Tường Vy replied, her voice equally choked. "This place has taught us too many things to forget."

That afternoon, when everyone had left, Gia Bảo and Tường Vy lingered alone in the empty schoolyard, sitting on a familiar stone bench, watching the sunset gradually fall, dyeing the sky in a brilliant red-orange color.

"So the journey is over," Tường Vy said softly, her head resting on Gia Bảo's shoulder.

"It's not the end," Gia Bảo replied, squeezing her hand. "It's just that a new chapter is about to begin. And this time, I'm no longer afraid of entering that new chapter, because I know I won't go alone."

Tường Vy raised her head to look at him, smiled, then they both looked towards the main building of the school, where the last sunlight was reflecting sparklingly on the glass windows, and in the distance, from the music room on the second floor, there was still the soft sound of someone's piano, perhaps Minh Thư or Anh Kiệt, practicing for the club's tomorrow, a tomorrow that they, those who had laid the foundation, would no longer directly witness but would still follow with all their hearts.