As the mass began, I focused intently on my role as the accompanist. I let the solemnity of the moment guide my fingers over the piano keys, careful to keep pace with the rhythm of the liturgy. Time slipped by unnoticed. I was so absorbed in playing that I hadn't even realized the church had filled with students.
When I finally looked up, I blinked in surprise.
The pews behind me were packed—far more than usual. Typically, students only attended when they were scheduled to sing or serve. But today, they were clustered behind the piano, sitting in the fourth column—right near me. My classmates had been seated in the third column to ensure they could still hear the accompaniment.
At first, I was confused. Then it dawned on me: perhaps they were curious. It was probably rare, maybe even novel, to see a fellow student playing the piano during mass. I shrugged it off. Their presence didn't bother me. If anything, it made me more committed to doing my best.
When the final note of the closing hymn echoed through the church and the mass ended, I stood, ready to quietly exit like I usually did. But before I could even take a few steps, I was suddenly surrounded.
"How long have you been playing the piano, Carmela?" one senior asked eagerly.
"It's been six years now, senior," I answered, trying to keep walking.
"So you started at six years old?" another chimed in.
"Yes, senior."
"What about the guitar? Can you play that too?"
"Yes, senior."
Their eyes lit up. "Seriously? What other instruments do you know?"
I hesitated before listing them. "Piano, guitar, violin, flute... and drums. That's all."
Their eyes widened. "That's all? That's a lot!"
I laughed softly. "I guess so. I picked them up because I loved music—and to pass the time. Anyway, senior, can I go now?"
"Oh! Of course, sorry."
I offered a polite smile and gently excused myself. I still had to help clean up our area, and the last thing I wanted was to be seen as someone using music to attract attention. But little did I know, that single performance at the piano would be the spark for days of endless questions. Students, teachers, even seniors approached me, asking about the piano, my music, and if I could teach them.
If I had charged per question, I could've started a music school right then and there.
Eventually, I had to give the same rehearsed excuse over and over: "I'm focusing on my studies right now. I don't have time to teach." After a while, the excitement around my musical skills faded. Thank goodness.
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Today was a whole new kind of spotlight: the **Acquaintance Program**. We were asked to bring a change of clothes—one outfit for the formal introduction, and another for our group dance performance.
For my self-introduction, I chose a simple yet elegant outfit: a wine-red sleeveless A-line dress, layered over a sheer white mesh turtleneck top with long sleeves. I paired it with cute white flat sandals and kept my hair down. Since there were no regular classes today, I packed my clothes in my backpack and walked to school with a light heart.
My outfit for the performance had a completely different vibe. I went with a white asymmetrical long-sleeved top over black innerwear, paired with wide-leg black pants and comfy canvas shoes. To complete the look, I tied my hair up in a neat bun—practical and stylish.
I arrived just in time for the bell. As we lined up, I could already feel eyes on me. My outfit stood out, not only because it was different from my usual style, but because it had a cooler, trendier edge. Inspired by fashion from future generations, I wasn't surprised that it caught people's attention. When your style contrasts so sharply from the norm, it's hard *not* to be noticed.
After the flag ceremony, we were told to prepare for the program. Since the stage had already been set up the day before, all we had to do now was focus on our performances.
The event kicked off with a high-energy dance number—ours. We were the opening act, and the remix of "Dance Again" by Jennifer Lopez was our soundtrack.
Thanks to my childhood curiosity and a whole list of hobbies, I'd learned a thing or two about dancing. My primary school teachers were talented dancers themselves and often taught us routines, especially for morning exercises. Those memories came flooding back as I hit every beat, every move with confidence.
It also helped that I had Darren by my side. We bonded over dancing, and our friendship only deepened during our practices this past month. Rehearsals became something I genuinely looked forward to, especially with a few other classmates who were surprisingly good dancers. With all the time we spent together, we built more than just rhythm—we built camaraderie.
Once our dance ended, we left the stage, not yet ready for our individual introductions. It was time for the seniors to perform for us—a tradition to welcome the first-years. The second-year students were up next.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to watch them. I had to change into my formal attire and prepare for the next spotlight: introducing myself in front of everyone. As much as I wanted to enjoy the show, vanity and nerves won out—I had to fix my hair, adjust my clothes, and mentally rehearse my lines.
Even as I changed, I could hear the buzz of the crowd and the beat of the music echoing from the stage. It was a reminder that, in a few minutes, all eyes would be on me again.
And I was ready.
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