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“Noel! Pay attention, please! We do not have long before the annual choir competition!” Ocean snapped, clicking obnoxiously at her choirmates in a frustrated attempt to gain their attention. Marcus watched with an amused smile from the pews at the back of the choir room, smiling at his fiery choir-director-prodigy.
“Okay. As we all know, Father Marcus is sitting out today because his heart has felt funny all day,” Ocean announced suddenly. All five pairs of eyes landed on Marcus, and he startled and waved half-heartedly, not quite understanding why that was a relevant detail to bring attention to. Yet Ocean just nodded sympathetically, hand on her heart. “We wish you well, Father. However!”
She whirled back around to face the choir, bouncing on her toes in her badly-disguised glee. “This means I shall direct choir rehearsal today!”
A chorus of groans from two of the boys echoed around the room, and Ricky slumped back in his seat, head lolling over the back of his pew. Constance clapped sheepishly, offering an awkward smile. Ocean seemed unfazed.
“So! Since Father Marcus offered me this amazing opportunity this morning, I have spent all of my time organising the music we will be rehearsing this afternoon, and have a strict schedule of events for today. I even convinced the lunch-ladies to let me take a tray of apple slices and gluten-free shortcakes,” she declared proudly, before eyeing the completely empty tray that now sat discarded in the corner distastefully. “Which I am aware that everyone has taken to… enthusiastically.”
Marcus huffed a small laugh at her wrinkled nose. He listened to Ocean talk on and on and on for another ten minutes, explaining the order of events for the afternoon – an absolutely unnecessary endeavour, but clearly one that meant a lot to her. He felt no need to intervene.
He knew she’d been waiting for a chance like this ever since she had joined his choir. She was his first member after all; no one wanted to do something as dull as choir when he first started the group. But she made sure to attend every barren rehearsal and sing her heart out for him, afterwards going through the effort to sit with him at a laptop for half an hour every day and make leaflets and posters advertising the extra-curricular.
And honestly, she wasn’t a bad leader. She was pushy and brash at times, but she got everyone on track. She began teaching each member a separate harmony-line to a nice warm up that, to Marcus’ knowledge, she had composed herself. And another twenty minutes in, she had the entire choir singing. From the polite and eager ones like Constance, right down to the reluctant and glaring ones like Mischa.
Once rehearsal was over, he watched as Noel, Ricky and Mischa made a beeline for the exit, leaving Ocean and Constance to tidy up the music stands and push the pews back into the right places. Constance gave him a bright smile and a wave before leaving the room, Ocean following behind her.
But Marcus made a move to stand up before she left, calling over to her.
“Ocean, wait a minute.”
She stopped and turned to him, back rigid and eyes wide as she waited.
“Yes?” she asked primly. Marcus didn’t miss the way her mouth twitched hopefully and her fists curled tightly into her skirt. He smiled at her and walked over to the door.
“You did well today,” he said quietly, placing a gentle hand atop her head. “You really do put so much into our little choir, and you are a wonderful director.”
Ocean’s mouth fell open, before she quickly snapped it shut and looked down at her squeaky-clean shoes. She shuffled her feet. Marcus hesitantly took his hand away, concerned.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded tightly and lifted a hand to wipe hurriedly at her eyes. Marcus startled and bent down to her eyelevel.
“Ocean, hey,” he said softly. “What’s wrong, my girl?”
Ocean just sniffled, for once at a loss for words as she hid her face in her hands. Marcus tutted and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“You don’t need to speak. But you know that you are a wonderful person, don’t you Ocean?” he asked, a small smile lacing his words. “You know that I really appreciate everything you do for me, and everything you do for our choir? You know that you deserve credit for everything you put into this, don’t you?”
Ocean hiccupped and finally raised her head a little to reveal blotchy cheeks and glistening eyes. She forced a wobbly smile and nodded smally.
“Of course!” she squeaked. “I just… I’ve never heard someone say that before. No one ever really— really notices, I guess.”
Marcus’ heart squeezed in his chest and he resisted the urge to pull the child into his arms for a hug. Because that’s all she was, really. A child, who hardly got enough recognition or appreciation for anything she did. She just needed validation and congratulation for her achievements and interests. She just needed that person who she knew would always be proud of her.
It hurt him to think that maybe she didn’t really get that at home.
“Well, you can hear me say it now,” he said with a smile, handing her a tissue from his pocket. “I see how much you do, and how much you achieve, and I am so proud of you.”
Ocean took the tissue and wiped furiously at her eyes and runny nose. Marcus smiled.
“God bless you,” he said quietly, closing his eyes as he patted her fondly on the head again. “Now go on. Go home and write us some more pieces for rehearsals! Your warm-up was beautiful today, I must say.”
Ocean beamed at this, a little bit of that confidence trickling back in as she puffed out her chest and put her hands on her hips.
“I worked all night on that one.”
Marcus laughed. “Well, don’t stay up too late tonight. Take it easy, Ocean. Give yourself a break every once in a while, okay?”
She nodded. “Thank you, Father Marcus.”
“I shall see you tomorrow, my child.”
Marcus was strolling down the corridor the next day, on the way to the teacher’s lounge to retrieve his bags he had left there that morning. He paused when he spotted one of the boys from his choir, Noel, leaning into his locker as he fiddled with something on his hand. Marcus smiled – he had always had a bit of a soft spot for the boy. Maybe that was just because he was the first boy to join the choir when they were in desperate need of a tenor or a bass, but still.
“Noel! Good morning,” he said jovially as he walked past with a smile. Noel jumped and turned to look at him, before smiling and raising a hand in response. Marcus’ eye caught on his brightly coloured nails, painted a deep, vibrant red with white and pink and black patterns running intricately over each surface. He paused mid-step and backtracked.
Noel looked confusedly at Marcus’ curious gaze and followed his eyeline. When his own eyes landed on his nails too, he quickly startled and shoved his hand in his pocket.
“Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to stare,” Marcus laughed. Noel furrowed his brows at him defensively.
“They’re just nails. It’s not like it’s a big deal,” he said quickly and quietly, glaring at the floor. Marcus shook his head, taken aback.
“No, no. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I just thought they looked really nice, and wanted a closer look, is all.”
Noel seemed to short-circuit at the compliment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. When he realised that Father Marcus was still waiting expectantly, he slowly brought his hand out from his pocket to show off his nails. Marcus smiled and pulled out his spectacles for a closer look, examining the pretty patterns in awe.
“Noel, these are beautiful,” he said. “You did these yourself?”
“Oh, yeah,” Noel said airily, shrugging as he raised his other hand to smirk at his work. “I’m a bit of an artist, if you couldn’t tell.”
“I could tell!” Marcus said with a grin, standing back up fully and nodding appreciatively. Noel preened under the attention, but his satisfied smile quickly fell to be replaced with a suspicious, slightly dubious frown.
“Aren’t you supposed to be like…” he trailed off, obviously unsure of himself. Marcus nodded encouragingly. “Like, kind of against this sort of thing?”
Marcus blinked, then rolled his eyes with a smile. “Against boys with decent fashion standards? Why on earth would you think that?”
Noel laughed sheepishly, looking away. “I mean, the whole Christian thing…”
“Noel,” Marcus said, bluntly but not unkindly. “My religion has nothing to do with what you do with your nails, or your hair, or your mascara.”
Noel’s eyes widened. Marcus smiled.
“Yes, I notice! Whenever you style yourself differently or try out something new, I always can’t help but think how much it suits you.”
“You don’t think I need to like… like tone it down? Or— or something?” he mumbled, picking at his nails as he looked everywhere but Marcus’ eyes. Marcus shook his head and gently pulled his hands apart so he wouldn’t ruin his wonderful paintwork.
“Of course not. I think it’s commendable the way you unashamedly express yourself. I know it can’t always be easy.”
Marcus sighed at the small shake of Noel’s head. The idea that his peers made his life harder than it had to be, just because he was a little different from them – it was appalling.
“Well,” he said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Your nails look lovely. I hope to see you in choir later?”
Noel smiled and nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“God bless you,” he said with a smile, squeezing his shoulder before continuing on his way to the teacher’s lounge. He didn’t miss the way Noel grinned widely at his nails, glowing golden with pride when he thought he was out of sight.
Father Marcus entered the choir room later that day, early as usual. He had to make a conscious effort to arrive half an hour early just to get a few minutes of peace before Ocean barged in, twenty minutes earlier than she was supposed to, plans and sheet music in hand.
But when he turned the lights on and dropped his satchel by the door, his eyes immediately landed on a heap of teenager, curled up on a chair in the corner. Mischa had his head tucked into his arms, foot tapping absently to whatever he was listening to in those bulky headphones of his.
Marcus frowned. It was often a miracle that Mischa ever turned up at all, let alone be at all early. Thirty minutes early at that.
He cautiously approached him, still going unnoticed by the boy. He could already hear the racket bursting from his headphones from half-way across the room; there was no way Mischa would be able to hear anything else when he had the volume up so high.
“Mischa, my boy,” Marcus called loudly, taking another step forward. He didn’t move an inch, face still hidden in his curled-up position, long legs tucked awkwardly up to his chest. Marcus sighed and slowly reached out an arm
“Mischa.” He placed a hand on Mischa’s knee. As expected, the kid jumped halfway out of his skin, eyes flashing dangerously as he scuttled backwards, nearly falling out of the chair as his breaths came harsh and shallow.
“Jesus fucking— what the hell, old man? Gave me freaking heart attack! Not cool,” he spat, standing to his feet and scowling. Marcus raised his hands, suppressing the urge to comment on the… flowery use of language.
“I apologise,” he said, dipping his head. Mischa just scoffed and trudged over to one of the pews, slumping down into it, legs spread wide in his usual, unbothered, overconfident state of being – so different from the child Marcus had just been looking at, curled in on himself and hiding from the world. Carefully, Marcus followed and sat down on the pew, still staying a good couple of feet away. Mischa shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t look up from his phone.
“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” Marcus explained. “You’re very early, you know.”
Mischa grunted, fingers tapping quickly against a keyboard on his screen. A silence hung over them as Mischa stubbornly refused to conversate. But Marcus wasn’t one to give up easily.
“Why were you in here, Mischa?” he asked levelly. He raised his eyebrows at the sour glare shot in his direction. “You’re not in trouble. I’m just curious.”
Mischa huffed, unconvinced, as he somehow slumped lower in his chair, arms crossed like a petulant child. “Was sent out from Math for calling shitty teacher довбаний хуй.”
Marcus didn’t particularly want to know what that word meant, so he opted to just nod in silence.
“And why did you call him that?”
Mischa scoffed and threw his arms up in frustration. “I do not have to explain myself to you, prick.”
Marcus’ brows knit slightly. “Mischa, please do not call me that. I simply want to try and understand what you’re feeling so I can help you.”
“You are therapist now,” Mischa snorted humourlessly, burying his nose back into his phone. Marcus sighed, pinching his nosebridge, his usually never-ending patience beginning to wane. He knew a little bit about this boy’s life, and knew it couldn’t be easy for him to come into school every day. But he could never have expected how hard his gruff exterior would be to pry open.
There had to be a way to get through to him, and make him show the goodness he must have inside him somewhere.
But if there was anything Marcus knew, it was that these things could not be rushed. These things needed time. So, he simply nodded and stood up. Mischa watched him curiously with a raised brow.
“Very well. Just know, my boy, if you ever need to talk to me about anything, I am here for you.”
Mischa stared at him blankly, the anger dissipating from his features as confusion etched its way into the lines of his face. But after a second, he grunted and looked back at his phone, apathetic and uncaring as always. Marcus closed his eyes and pressed his hands together before walking away to get the music stands from the cupboard.
“God bless you, child.”
A week or so later, Marcus was conducting for his choir, looking around at the five of them as they all sung their respective lines. The singing competition was coming up, as Ocean was always quick and eager to remind everyone, and they had to practise their piece for the fall fair that was coming to town – the event where the competition would be held.
Marcus didn’t particularly have high hopes for this competition. It wasn’t that his kids weren’t good; no they always sounded incredible, no matter how little half of them actually wanted to be there. All their lovely voices blending perfectly to make one, heavenly chorus.
It was more so that no one seemed to care much for a silly little school choir, and the lack of morale seemed to rub off on everyone involved. Overall, it made it a rather unenjoyable experience.
But today, Marcus kept finding his attention drawn back to Ricky, stook still in the middle of the group, joining in on the feeble actions he could, and looking generally miserable. Marcus frowned at him, before shaking his head and signalling to cut off the song at the end of the phrase.
“Right, Ocean, take Mischa and work on the chorus together – figure out where the dynamics of your voices should swell and where they should dim,” Marcus instructed. Ocean nodded militarily and held out an arm for Mischa, who glared at it and stalked ahead of her. She gasped and trotted to catch up.
“Constance, work on your diction. Noel, you help her.”
As the other two walked away together to the other corner, Marcus approached a rather terrified, confused-looking Ricky. Marcus made sure to smile as he sat down and gestured for Ricky to do the same. The boy did, with much hesitation as he concernedly looked from the door to his shoes and to the door again, shoulders nearly reaching his ears.
“No need to look to anxious, Ricky,” Marcus laughed softly. “I won’t bite, I promise.”
Ricky managed a small, awkward smile, his shoulders relaxing minutely. Marcus took that as a little win.
“I have a question to ask you,” Marcus proposed gently. Ricky nodded, waiting for him to continue. Marcus sighed and leaned forward.
“What more can I do to make your time in this choir enjoyable?”
Ricky paused his frantic, darting eyes as he turned to look up into Marcus’ eyes. He shrugged, looking a little stunned. Marcus tried again.
“I understand your restrictions and know that there is no easy fix to your problems. But I’d really like to make this choir a place for you to enjoy yourself and relax a little,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, uncharacteristically casual. He hoped maybe the gesture would help Ricky himself loosen up a bit.
He glanced at Ocean and Mischa, already arguing from across the room, and lowered his voice into a conspiratorially hushed whisper.
“I know that Ocean really pushed for your joining, and I also know that you perhaps did not want to be involved as much as she wanted you to be.”
At this, Ricky nodded, eyes hardening a little as he looked at the redhead. Marcus nodded and made a mental note to speak with Ocean later about her desires and motivations and general pushiness.
“Well, just know that if you ever want to quit choir and find an extra-curricular more suited to your individual interests and skillsets, you have my full support,” Marcus said, nodding sincerely, dipping his head to look Ricky in the eye. Ricky paused, before nodding fractionally, eyes wide.
“But, if you do choose to stay, please let me know what I can do to make sure you are involved and having a good time. Does that sound fair?” he asked with a smile.
It took a moment for his words to click in Ricky’s head. But when they did, his lips twitched into a tiny smile and he nodded, reaching into his pocket for the small notepad he kept.
He scribbled down a quick note.
I’ll let you know if I think of anything. Thanks, Father :)
Marcus beamed at the note and placed a hand on Ricky’s shoulder.
“Of course! God bless you, Richard.” Marcus stood up and clapped sharply to silence the heated argument growing in volume and severity from Mischa and Ocean’s corner, calling for everyone to come together as a group again.
Marcus would never actually realise that the only reason Ricky didn’t immediately quit the choir right then and there, was because of that little bit of kindness he was shown on that very day.
A big part of Marcus’ weekend routine was his weekly visit to the Blackwood Café. Every Sunday, he would lead his usual church service, stay afterwar to wave everyone off, before taking a nice stroll down to his favourite café in town.
The smells and tastes and laughter that seemed to float around the air in that quaint little building never failed to lift his spirits, no matter how hard the week had been. He always sat at his same little table in the corner next to all of the pretty potted plants, and would sip at his coffee with a book, or just gaze out of the window at the lazy streets beyond.
And a plus to the Blackwood café was, of course, that Constance Blackwood worked there, helping out her family business on weekends. He always made sure to greet her and smile at her when he entered, the chiming of the tinkling bell announcing his entrance.
And he wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point, a cosy little routine started every week. Constance would help around the café for a while, and would spend her twenty minute break at eleven o’clock sat across from him, chatting about everything and anything that came to mind.
It was nice to see the girl outside of school. She was always so timid and reserved in choir, only speaking when spoken to, or when Ocean demanded backup in her bickering with Noel. But outside, in her own home, she was like a new person completely. Though still a little awkward at times, she was confident and smiley and talkative.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he commented with a smile as she approached his table, wiping off her hands on her apron. She smiled and fell sluggishly into her seat across from him, looking quite frankly exhausted. He frowned.
“Are you alright?” he asked. She nodded with a tired smile.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said with a brushing wave. “Just a long day so far.”
“Well, feel free to elaborate. I’m always here to listen,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands in his lap. She smiled brightly at him, but shook her head.
“No, that’s okay. It’s nothing, really – just woke up wrong.”
Marcus cocked his head a little. “Wrong?”
“Yeah! Like, uh…” Constance swirled her hands around in front of her as she searched for a word that worked in her head. “Like kind of crummy? I don’t know, I just don’t feel so good.” She gave a small, sheepish chuckle, no sparkle reaching her round, hazel eyes. Marcus nodded and reached for a sip of his coffee.
“Have you told your mother about it?” he asked. She shook her head, looking down at her lap.
“Didn’t think it was important,” she mumbled. Marcus shook his head and leaned forward.
“Constance,” he said softly. She looked up at him. “It is very normal to wake up feeling low, but that does not mean it is irrelevant. If you need to talk to someone about it, or just need an extra tight hug that morning, you don’t need to feel guilty about it.”
Constance nodded as he talked, but he could see that it was just her people-pleasing subconscious controlling her movement. He really needed her to take in what he was saying and understand.
“Your mother is a wonderful woman,” he said with a small smile as he glanced over Constance’s shoulder to look at the chubby, smiling, cheerful woman behind the counter. “I can assure you that if there is anyone you ever need to talk to on a low day, it is her. And she will listen.”
Marcus finished his spiel and looked back at his choir member in front of him, to see her looking at him with a crinkled brow and a curious curl to her lip. He leaned back, amused.
“What is it?”
“You’re a lovely person, Father,” she said quietly. The comment took him by surprise, and it seemed to take her by surprise, too. Her eyes widened a little at her own words, but she shook her head and pushed forward. “You do so much for us in the choir, and everyone around you. You give so much great advice and you’re always there if we need you. I just hope you know how wonderful you are.”
Marcus heart welled up with warmth for his student before him, and he smiled a little tearily as he waved her off.
“God bless you,” he said with a watery chuckle. She smiled as she stood up and picked up his empty coffee cup, waving as she went about her working day as normal.
Marcus sat there in silence for a moment, just taking the time to smile and appreciate everything around him. He was lucky to have these kids, and he was so grateful for every one of them.
“So, are you excited to meet the choir, Penny?” Father Marcus called over the rumbling of the school bus’ engine. He glanced at the passenger seat beside him to see the new girl sat, curled in on herself as she fiddled with her braid, staring out of the window. She shrugged.
“I think so,” her soft, quiet voice mumbled. Marcus smiled.
“I think you’ll like them. Or— you’ll learn to,” Marcus corrected himself, being reminded of all their little quirks and extremities.
Ocean could be bossy and selfish at times, sure, but she was also hard-working and a constant in their lives. Noel could be snarky and defensive, but they all knew he was thoughtful and intuitive, always looking out for others. Mischa was… well. Angry and aggressive a lot of the time, and none of them had managed to fully see through him yet. But Marcus was still convinced that, when the time was right, he would open up and they would see the good person inside. Ricky was hard to communicate with at the best of times, and often didn’t make much of an effort to come out of his shell, but he was sensitive and sweet. And Constance? She may have been quiet at first, but she was one of the loveliest people Marcus thought he had ever met.
And now, Marcus hoped to have a new face to add to the mix. A girl who had just transferred; Penny Lamb. She wanted to join the choir, and had found Father Marcus to ask if she could. He of course instantly beamed and welcomed her with open arms.
But she then admitted to him that she dealt with quite bad anxiety, and was worried about joining so out of the blue. So, Marcus had offered a compromise.
“There is a competition at the fair coming up in a couple days,” he explained to her when she’d first come to him with her concerns. “The choir are all ready to perform, so how about you go to the fair to watch them sing first? Then I can introduce you to them afterwards, and you can get a feel for our little choir and decide what you want to do from there. How does that sound?”
She had thought about it for a moment, before slowly nodded with a little smile.
“That sounds okay. Thank you, Father.”
And so here they were, on their way to the fair in the empty minibus – everyone else who wanted to go were getting dropped off or walking there by themselves. Marcus was honestly pleased with that, as it gave him the opportunity to get to know her a little better.
He opened his mouth to say something else, maybe ask another question or give some advice, when his words died on his tongue. A sharp jolt of pain panged through his chest, aching agonizingly against his ribcage. He sucked in a harsh breath as the bus jerked to the side, clutching at his shirtfront with one hand.
“Father! Are you alright?” Penny was asking, voice frantic and breaths coming far too quickly. The pain in his chest was still there, but Marcus forced both of his shaky hands onto the wheel and tried for a reassuring smile.
“I am fine. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to swerve like that,” he croaked, indicating to pull over in a small carpark by the road. “Try to breathe for me, Penny, okay?”
Penny nodded, eyes shut tight as she regained control of her breaths – Marcus felt a pang of guilt much worse than that bolt of pain through his chest. He hadn’t meant for her to be so startled. Or for him to nearly crash the bus, to be fair.
Those episodes of pain were common and short, and usually manageable. It wasn’t new to him; it was all due to his heart condition, he knew that.
But still. That one hurt much more than any previous ones he had experienced in the past few months. He could still feel the pain thrumming in his heart now, aching uncomfortably and making his arms feel numb. For a moment, he considered turning the bus around and heading back. He knew better than to push himself when he got like this.
But then again, this was important for Penny. And for his choir. They wanted him to see them perform, and Penny needed him for support if she got overwhelmed. To back out now would be letting down his kids, and he couldn’t do that to them.
So, despite himself, he smiled.
“Are you alright?” he asked Penny, who nodded. Marcus put a hand to his chest. “I am so sorry for that. I’ll be okay, I promise. Now, let’s head to the fair before we miss the competition, shall we?”
Penny gave him an unconvinced look. “You’re sure you’re feeling okay?”
Father Marcus smiled.
“God bless you, child. I will be okay, trust me.”