The dorm basement had never felt so... full. It wasn't that it was a small space, but with Olivia running around as if she were organizing a concert at Madison Square Garden, everything felt a little more chaotic than usual. We had decided to attempt our first full rehearsal of "A Bad Dream," and while I initially thought it would be straightforward — play, sing, adjust details — I quickly realized I had completely underestimated Olivia.
From the moment we walked in, she started talking about how we needed "something more epic."
"How about strobe lights?" she suggested while rummaging through a box filled with old cables and bulbs. "Or artificial smoke. And choreography! We definitely need choreography."
Sack and I exchanged a quick glance. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, Are we really letting her do this? I simply shrugged, knowing that stopping Olivia when she had an idea in mind was like trying to stop a speeding train.
"Olivia," I said, trying to sound reasonable, "I think we're fine without all that. It's just one song."
"Just one song?" she replied, placing a hand on her chest as if I'd insulted her very existence. "Lindsay, darling, it's not just a song. It's our masterpiece. Our artistic statement. And artistic statements need... drama!"
"I'm not sure I want my artistic statement to include flashing lights," Sack commented, adjusting the strings on his guitar with a half-smile. "I'd prefer it to be more... intimate."
"Exactly!" Olivia exclaimed, pointing at him as if he'd just proven her point. "Dramatic intimacy! That's what we need. Maybe you should sing from inside a closet or something. Or under a white sheet, like a melancholic ghost."
"I think I'll stay right here," Sack replied, laughing. "Besides, I don't want to scare anyone prematurely."
Finally, we got into position. I was going to sing, Sack would play the guitar, and Olivia would handle the piano. At least, that was the plan.
But nothing went as expected.
From the very first chord, Olivia decided she couldn't just play the piano. No, she had to play it as if she were a classical pianist performing an epic symphony. Her hands flew over the keys with exaggerated drama, and every now and then she shot us an intense look, as if channeling Beethoven himself. It was impossible not to laugh, but I tried to focus on my part.
"Olivia," I said after a few seconds, trying not to sound too frustrated, "could you… maybe… play a little softer?"
"Softer?" she asked, pretending to be horrified. "I've never been soft in my life! Besides, this song needs passion. Passion, Lindsay! Don't you feel it in your soul?"
"I feel like you're about to break the piano," Sack muttered, adjusting his guitar while trying to suppress a laugh.
Before Olivia could respond, the inevitable disaster struck.
In the middle of her theatrical performance, she accidentally knocked over a coffee cup that someone — probably herself — had left on the edge of the piano. The cup fell directly onto the keyboard, producing a jarring noise that made all of us stop dead in our tracks.
"Oh my God!" Olivia shouted, jumping back as if the piano had personally betrayed her. "That was... unexpected art!"
"Unexpected art?" I asked, unable to hold back a smile. "Or just an unexpected accident?"
"It's the same thing, technically," she responded, crossing her arms with an expression of absolute seriousness. "Besides, I think it added a modern touch to the melody. Like... experimental jazz."
Sack shook his head, laughing. "Yeah, it definitely added an emotional touch." Even I had to cover my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.
Meanwhile, I was still struggling to stay focused. Every time I opened my mouth to sing, something else happened: Olivia made some absurd comment, or the echo of the coffee cup still rang in my head. I started doubting myself. What if I wasn't good enough? What if I ruined the song that meant so much to Sack?
That's when I noticed it.
Amid all the chaos, Sack looked at me. It was a quick gesture, almost imperceptible, but I saw it. He was watching me, making sure I was okay. He didn't say anything, but that look — so quiet, so genuine — gave me strength. Somehow, I knew it didn't matter how many times Olivia knocked things over or made extravagant comments; he trusted me. And that made all the difference.
I tried to relax and push forward. I sang with more confidence, ignoring the chaos around me. Of course, Olivia couldn't leave things calm for long. At one point, she announced, "I think we should add a synchronized bow at the end. Or maybe a pirouette. What do you think?"
"A pirouette?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Olivia, if you try a pirouette, you'll probably end up breaking something else."
"Exactly!" she responded, as if that were a perfectly valid reason to attempt it. "Imagine the emotional impact. The audience will be so distracted by my grace that they won't even notice if you sing off-key, Lindsay."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly, though I couldn't help but laugh.
"You're welcome," Olivia replied with a mischievous smile. Then, looking at Sack, she added, "What do you think? Should we do a pirouette or not?"
"It depends," he responded, pretending to be serious. "How many coffee cups do you plan to break during the pirouette?"
"Touché," Olivia admitted, raising her hands in surrender. "I guess we'll have to settle for a simple bow. But I promise it'll be epic."
By the end of the rehearsal, we were all laughing more than playing. Olivia solemnly declared, "This was the best rehearsal in history. Tomorrow, we'll be legends."
Sack and I exchanged another glance. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: this group was an absolute mess, but it was exactly what we needed. Between Olivia's antics and the quiet but meaningful moments with Sack, I felt that maybe, just maybe, we could create something special.
"Are you ready to change the world?" Olivia asked, standing up with her arms outstretched as if she were a superhero.
"Ready to survive the Frost Amphitheater," Sack replied with a smile.
"Which is basically the same thing," I concluded, joining in their laughter.