After the drama of Homo Night and the weekend punishment, Kingstar kept to himself.
He woke early. Cleaned. Studied during prep. Avoided the Prep Prefect's gaze.
But something inside him was shifting and it had a sound.
Every Sunday during chapel, the school choir would lead hymns in perfect harmony. It wasn't just music it was magic. And at the heart of that magic was Irene Yeboah's voice replaying in his memory, the same voice that had drawn him into music back at St. Joseph JHS.
Now, he sat at the back pew of the chapel, eyes closed, letting the organ swell through him like waves.
One Sunday after mass, the Music Master, Mr. Owusu known for spotting raw talent stood up.
"Choir auditions this week. Monday after prep. All students welcome."
Kingstar hesitated. He wasn't sure if he had the voice. He only mimicked songs before. But he knew the passion was there.
Monday evening, he walked slowly toward the chapel with five other boys. Some confident. Some nervous. He was both.
Inside, Mr. Owusu sat with a small keyboard and a sharp look behind his glasses.
"Name?"
"Kingstar, sir."
"Sing 'Abide With Me', first verse."
His throat was dry, but as he began, something unlocked.
His voice wasn't the strongest, but it was honest. Full of emotion. Controlled. He sang every note with memory of Irene, of the pain, the pressure, the loneliness, and that moment of peace he felt each time he sang.
Mr. Owusu nodded.
"We'll post results tomorrow. You may go."
As Kingstar stepped out, he heard someone laugh behind him.
It was the Prep Prefect, arms crossed at the chapel door.
"So now you want to sing too? You think this school is for showboys?"
Kingstar met his gaze.
"No. I think this school is for growth. And I'm growing."
The prefect's smirk faded. No comeback. Just silence.
The next day, the choir list went up.
Kingstar's name was third. He had made it.
Later that week, during Friday Mass, he stood with the choir for the first time, robe slightly oversized, heart pounding.
When it was his turn to lead the response, he opened his mouth and something beautiful came out.
The students clapped softly after service. Even some seniors nodded in approval.
That night, lying in his bunk, Kingstar smiled for the first time in weeks.
He had found his place. His gift. His voice.