I was nervous. Much more than I wanted to admit.
It wasn't just the fact of playing in front of a real audience, something that already made me uncomfortable on its own. It was the idea of sharing "A Bad Dream" with other people, of opening up that part of myself that I had kept hidden for so long. The song wasn't just music; it was a piece of my soul, something I had kept silent until now. And even though I knew Lindsay and Olivia were there to support me, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was exposing myself too much.
When we arrived at the basement for another rehearsal, Olivia was already waiting, looking as if she had just stepped out of a costume convention. She was wearing a long, flashy scarf, oversized sunglasses, and... a safari hat with a fake feather?
"What the hell is that?" I asked, pointing at the hat while adjusting the strings on my guitar.
"This," she said, gesturing proudly at herself, "is your musical alter ego. I'll call it... Indiana Sack, the melancholic adventurer of campus."
I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might pop out of their sockets.
"Olivia, I don't need an alter ego. I just want to play the damn song."
"Exactly," she replied, completely ignoring my protest. "Indiana Sack doesn't need complications. He just needs style. And this hat," she added, placing it on my head without warning, "is the beginning of your transformation."
Lindsay, who was reviewing her notes for the lyrics, looked up and burst out laughing.
"You look ridiculous," she said, trying to contain herself but failing miserably.
"Yeah, thanks for the moral support," I muttered, taking off the hat and setting it aside.
"You're welcome," Lindsay responded with a mischievous smile. "But seriously, I think you should let Olivia dress you. It could be fun."
"No way," I said quickly. "I'd rather face an entire audience singing while juggling than wear that hat again."
"Juggling!" Olivia exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "That would be epic! Can we do it? Please say yes."
"No," Lindsay and I responded at the same time, exchanging a knowing glance.
"Fine," Olivia said, pretending to be disappointed. "I guess we'll have to settle for this." She gestured to her own extravagant outfit. "But remember, when we're famous, it was my idea."
Finally, we got to work. Lindsay started singing, and from the first verse, I felt how her voice connected deeply with the song. It was as if she understood exactly what I wanted to convey, as if she could see inside me in a way no one else could.
"Wait, wait," Olivia suddenly said, raising her hand as if she were an orchestra conductor. "Before we continue, I need to warm up my voice. We can't have a mediocre performance the day after tomorrow."
"The day after tomorrow?" I asked, surprised. "Isn't it tomorrow?"
"No, silly," Olivia replied, as if it were obvious. "Tomorrow is 'final preparations' day. You know, tweaking details, sound checks, making sure the piano doesn't try to kill me again. The day after tomorrow is the big day."
I let out a sigh of relief. An extra day to prepare didn't sound so bad after all.
"But first," Olivia continued, "I need to warm up. We can't have a mediocre performance."
Before we could stop her, she started belting out "(I've Had) The Time of My Life" at the top of her lungs, completely out of place and in the wrong key. Lindsay and I exchanged a look of disbelief as Olivia spun around the basement like she was on a Broadway stage.
"What are you doing?" Lindsay asked, trying not to laugh.
"Warming up!" Olivia responded, as if it were obvious. "Besides, it's important to be prepared for any genre. What if someone in the audience requests a romantic encore?"
"I think we're good with just one song," I said, trying not to sound too frustrated.
"Touché," Olivia admitted, though she kept humming softly as we returned to our positions.
During a break, Lindsay approached me while Olivia was busy organizing her "special effects equipment" (read: old cables and a flashlight). She looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.
"I'm proud of you," she said softly. "Of what we're doing together. It's... special."
I wanted to respond with something profound, something that matched what she had just said. But before I could articulate a single word, Olivia appeared out of nowhere, holding her phone as if it were a professional camera.
"I can't believe you're excluding me from such an intimate moment!" she exclaimed, pretending to be indignant. "Where's my camera? This deserves to be documented for posterity."
Lindsay and I burst out laughing, and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.
Later, as we walked back to our dorms, Olivia kept talking about how we were going to "revolutionize the Frost Amphitheater." Lindsay walked beside me, occasionally glancing at me in a way that made me feel like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Do you think this will work?" I finally asked, referring to the performance.
She smiled, and it was one of those smiles that seemed to light up even the darkest corners of my mind.
"Yes," she said simply. "Because we're not doing it alone. We're in this together."
"Together," I repeated, testing the word on my tongue. "I like how that sounds."
"Of course you do," Olivia said, turning to us with a huge smile. "We're the golden trio of campus. The day after tomorrow, we'll be legends! Or at least I'll have an epic story to tell at parties!"
After a few minutes of walking, Lindsay remembered something.
"Oh, almost forgot. We have to study for exams tonight. The library closes at 10."
"Tonight?" Olivia asked, horrified. "Seriously? Who studies the night before an epic event like ours?"
"Responsible people," Lindsay responded with an innocent smile. "And you're coming too. You can't fall behind."
"But…" Olivia protested, crossing her arms. "Exams are boring. Besides, I already know everything I need to know. I'm a natural genius."
"A genius who needs to review calculus," I said, laughing. "I remember you almost fell off your chair when you saw the last test."
"That was because the professor cheated!" Olivia exclaimed, defending herself. "He changed the rules halfway through the exam."
"Sure," Lindsay said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, we're going to the library in half an hour. No excuses."
Half an hour later, we were at the library. Of course, Olivia couldn't sit still. Every five minutes, she got up to "stretch her legs" or "find a more inspiring book." At one point, she tried to sneak into the fiction section to read romance novels, but Lindsay caught her before she could escape.
"Olivia," Lindsay said, pointing at her empty notebook. "If you don't start studying, I'm going to make you write an essay on every formula you don't memorize."
"Fine, fine," Olivia responded, resigned. "But if I fail, I'm blaming the lack of creative atmosphere. This place smells like stale coffee and desperation."
Lindsay and I exchanged an amused look.