Daniel Emanuel Guevarra

It was the next morning, and I was already second-guessing everything that had happened the night before. What was I thinking? Asking Alex Gonzales to join the choir?

I paced around my room, my hands still clammy from the nerves. This was Alex. The same Alex who had been tormenting our choir, and I had practically begged him to help us. I kept replaying his smug face in my mind, the way he had leaned against the counter at the café, all arrogant and amused by my desperation.

“You’ll be fine,” I muttered to myself, staring at the mess of sheet music on my desk. “You can handle this.”

But no matter how many times I tried to convince myself, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I needed to get to school. Maybe once I got there and saw everyone, it would feel less like I’d made a pact with the devil.

By the time I arrived at school, my anxiety had tripled. The halls were buzzing with the usual morning chatter, but all I could think about was how Alex was going to waltz into choir practice and cause chaos. I headed straight for the music room, needing to check in with Mr. Bocelli before everyone else showed up.

The door to the choir room was propped open, and I stepped inside, the familiar scent of old sheet music welcoming me. Mr. Bocelli was already there, flipping through a folder of song choices. He looked up when I walked in, a soft smile on his face.

“Good morning, Daniel,” he greeted. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink. Everything alright?”

I shifted awkwardly on my feet, rubbing the back of my neck. “Uh, yeah. I… well, I might’ve found us a singer.”

His eyes lit up with hope. “That’s wonderful. Who did you find?”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting again. “It’s… It’s someone you already know.”

“Really? Who is it?”

“It’s… Alex Matthew Gonzalez.”

Mr. Bocelli’s smile faltered for a moment, his brow furrowing. “Alex Gonzalez? The one who’s been rather vocal about his dislike for the choir?”

“The very one,” I said, grimacing. “But he’s got an amazing voice, Mr. Bocelli. I heard him sing at a café last night, and… well, he’s perfect for the part, I guess.”

He studied me carefully, concern flickering in his green eyes. “And you’re sure he’s serious about joining? This isn’t some kind of joke, Daniel.”  

I sighed. “I’m not sure about anything when it comes to Alex, but he said he’d do it. There are conditions, though. He wants to do things his way, not taking orders from anyone.”

Mr. Bocelli looked concerned for a moment, his fingers tapping on the piano. “Well, if his voice is as good as you say, perhaps we can work with that. But Daniel, if Alex is going to cause problems, I want him out of this room, even if his voice is what you say is perfect for a bass singer. I don’t want him disrupting the rest of the group.”

“Yes sir,” I said, feeling the weight of his words. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Mr. Bocelli nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s see how this plays out.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mr. Bocelli.”

“Of course,” he said kindly. “And Daniel, don’t forget, you’re not in this alone. We’ll figure it out somehow.”

Dismissal came, and I was arranging the music score on each seat for each member before they came. I always liked to prepare things before practice started. Mr. Bocelli was on the piano, warming up.

As if on cue, the door to the music room swung open, and in walked Lucy, Emma, Grace, Maria, Luisa, Gabrielle, Noah, and Vincent, chatting excitedly. I could feel the tension in my shoulders loosen slightly at the sight of them. At least I had their support.

“Hey, Danny!” Lucy called her hair bouncing as she skipped over to me. “Any news? Did you find someone?”

I exchanged a glance with Mr. Bocelli before turning back to the group. “Yeah. I, uh… found us a bass singer.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Emma said, her eyes lighting up behind her glasses. “Who is it?”

My stomach flipped again. Here it goes. “It’s Alex Matthew Gonzalez.”

The room fell silent. Lucy, Gabrielle, and Emma exchanged shocked looks, Maria and Luisa had a worried look, while Noah scoffed, and Vincent let out a low whistle.

“Wait, the Alex Gonzalez?” Lucy asked, her voice filled with disbelief. “The guy who’s been mocking us?”

“The one and only,” I muttered.

Noah snorted. “This should be interesting.”

Emma frowned, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But why would he want to join the choir?”

“He doesn’t,” I said flatly. “But he’s our last hope, and he knows it.”

Gabrielle crossed her arms, her face scrunched up in confusion. “So, what’s the catch?”

“There’s always a catch,” Vincent added, leaning against the wall.

“He wants to do things his way,” I explained, rubbing the back of my neck again. “No rules, no orders. He wants free rein.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “That’s stupid. He’s not some king or something for him to be that demanding.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Grace questioned.

“Honestly, no, but it’s not like we don’t have a choice, do we?” I admitted. “If we don’t find someone as soon as possible, we’re done.”

“Do you think he’ll show up today?” Maria asked.

Before I could even reply, the door creaked open again, and Alex walked in. Speaking of the devil.

He strolled into the room like he owned the place, that same smug grin plastered across his face.

“Well, look at this,” he said, his voice oozing with mockery. “The choir room. I never thought I’d step foot in here.”

I could feel everyone stiffen. Lucy’s eyes narrowed at him, and I could practically see her holding back a snarky comment. Maria and Grace were just staring at him blankly. Emma, Luisa, and Gabrielle shifted nervously. Noah just raised an eyebrow, watching the scene unfold. And Vincent had his hand in a fist, ready to bury it in Alex’s face.

Alex’s eyes scanned the room before settling on me. “So, what’s the plan, Pres?”

I bit my lip to stop myself from saying something stupid to him. This is going to be harder than I thought. “We’re working on a new piece. You’re in luck because we haven’t practiced it yet.”

Alex gave a lazy shrug, clearly unfazed. “Sure, whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

I shot Mr. Bocelli a glance, and he nodded, stepping forward to take control. “Alright, everyone. Let’s start with some warm-ups. Alex, if you could take a seat in the back and listen for now.”

Alex rolled his eyes but moved to the back of the room, sprawling out in one of the chairs like he had all the time in the world. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. We’d made it this far; there is no turning back now.

The warm-up went smoothly enough. Mr. Bocelli led us through a few vocal exercises, and I could feel the tension in the room start to ease as everyone got into the rhythm of practice. But now and then, I caught Alex smirking from the back of the room like he was just waiting for his moment to stir things up.

After a few more exercises, Mr. Bocelli motioned for Alex to come forward. “Alright Alex, before you can officially be part of the group, you have to audition first.”

“Wait, so you’re saying I still have to audition? Even if your little Pres here begged me to join,” he scoffed.

Mr. Bocelli cleared his throat. “Something that must be done, professionally. No matter how great you are, we still need to assess you. So, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

“Tsk, fine.” He stood up and strolled over to the front of the room, his hands casually in his pockets. I could feel everyone holding their breath, waiting to see if he was as good as I said he was.

Alex glanced at me, his smirk widening as he stepped up to the piano. “Ready to be impressed?”

“Just sing,” I muttered, trying to hide my irritation.

Mr. Bocelli played a very common piece, and to my surprise, Alex didn’t even flinch. He launched into the song, his deep voice effortlessly hitting the low notes with a richness that sent a shiver down my spine. His voice, already captivating, started to transform. It was subtle at first, a deepening resonance that seemed to vibrate in the air itself. His skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the room, and I blinked, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me. But it wasn't just me. Others were whispering, some leaning forward as if drawn to something they couldn’t quite explain.

As he hit the next note, his form shifted, ever so slightly. His hands, once casually in his pockets, grew more slender and pale. His hair darkened, lengthening into a sleek, midnight curtain. His smirk faded, replaced by an expression of pure focus as his body seemed to elongate.

His voice, which had been rich and deep, soared into an otherworldly range, each note shimmering like silver in the air. His once-familiar face became unrecognizable, sharp, and graceful, his eyes glowing with a strange, ethereal light. He no longer looked human; he had become something else entirely, something impossibly elegant as if the music had called forth a hidden form.

When the final note echoed into silence, Alex turned to the group, the sharp angles of his new form fading slightly, but never fully returning to what he had been. His smirk was back, but now it held an air of mystery, as though he had seen something none of us ever would

“Shit, he’s good,” I muttered to myself, biting my lips to not let the words slip my tongue.

He was then tested if he could mimic a certain pattern note from the piano, and he did it effortlessly and would hit the notes perfectly. Sly fox. 

I could feel the rest of the group exchanging glances, their disbelief turning into awe as Alex’s voice filled the room. Even I had to admit, as much as I hated his attitude, he was good.

When the audition finished, the room was silent for a moment before Lucy let out a low chuckle. “Okay, I’ll give him that; he got pipes.”

Noah nodded slowly, clearly impressed. “Huh, didn’t see that coming.”

Emma, who had been the most skeptical, looked like she was still processing what she’d just heard. “He’s… really good.”

“Impressed already?” he asked, his voice softer but still carrying that otherworldly echo. My eyebrows furrowed as I could feel his cockiness surrounding the room.

Mr. Bocelli's lips curved gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a warm, subtle grin spread across his face, clearly pleased with his performance. “Well, Alex, it looks like you’ll fit in just fine. Welcome to Melodia Singers. You’re now officially our Bass 1 singer. Take a seat beside the Sopranos, and we’ll start working on the new piece. Don’t worry, we’ll get you caught up with the previous songs you need to learn.”

For the rest of the practice, Alex surprisingly behaved himself. He still had that cocky air about him, but he followed Ms. Bocelli’s instructions without too much attitude, and by the end of the session, he had already started blending into the group like he’d been a member for a long time.

As we wrapped up for the day, I felt a strange mix of relief and dread. On one hand, Alex was exactly what we needed; his voice was perfect for the bass parts. But on the other hand, I knew we hadn’t seen the last of who he truly was.

After everyone left, I stayed behind for a moment, sitting at the edge of the piano bench and staring at the sheet music. This was it. We had our final member. The choir was safe, for now. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were going to get a lot more complicated. Alex was officially part of the choir, and whether we liked it or not, we were in this together.