Chapter Thirty
TEN YEARS AGO
I’d be lying if I said I retained any of the information I need for my History of English Music class.
Mostly I’ve been trying to hear what’s going on in the room on the other side of the wall.
All I’ve managed to catch are bits and pieces of the orchestra between all the stopping and starting they’ve been doing.
If I had to guess, I’d say it’s been a frustrating rehearsal for all involved.
The petty side of me takes a little pleasure in that.
With a sigh, I close my book, shove it in my backpack, and haul myself to my feet. I’ve been waiting long enough. As quietly as possible, I slip into the room. No one notices me tuck myself along the far wall.
“Okay, can we try it again?” Oliver asks from his place on the conductor’s podium. “Woodwinds, pay attention to your dynamic markings this time.”
Oof. I cringe at the terse way he speaks to everyone. Every time he’s been in charge—whether in small ensembles or with a larger group like the Lab student orchestra—he’s been like this. Demanding. Abrasive. Curt.
After a rehearsal with the Lab last year, I heard one of the freshman-year trumpet players ask if Oliver was always such a dick. The senior he was talking to didn’t even hesitate when he said yes. Everyone else laughed.
That white button-down shirt and those black slacks Oliver’s wearing might make him think he looks like a grown-up, but I disagree.
It mostly just makes him look unrelatable.
Everyone else is comfortable and casual in their jeans and hoodies.
One of the saxophone players might even be wearing pajamas.
He raps his baton on the music stand. The flutists at the edge of a row side-eye each other. Everyone lifts their instruments. With a wave of his hand, the music starts. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding when a haunting melody fills the room.
When the flutes come in, they’re too loud. It’s a crass juxtaposition with the low timbre of the strings. I notice it right away and it appears Oliver does, too. He waves his hands to stop everyone.
“No. Still not right. That’s enough for tonight, I think.” His shoulders heave with a sigh. “Practice, please. I’ll see you on Sunday, three p.m. Do not be late.”
While everyone starts packing up, I watch as Oliver drops his baton on the stand and jams his hands into his hair.
For the first time since Dr. Kendrick sat me down and told me that my piece wasn’t chosen, I don’t feel jealous.
I’m not even pissed. I can see the weight of the world on Oliver’s shoulders.
I’ve heard through the grapevine how much time he’s spending on this single performance, between orchestra practice and meetings with the dancers.
The combined rehearsals haven’t even started yet.
This is on top of all our regular schoolwork and graduation prep.
Every single person in our year is working fast and furious to secure a job, an internship, or a place in their graduate studies, all while keeping their grades up.
I might have lost the competition, but I also lost all the stress that comes along with it. I’m barely keeping up between auditions, internship-packet submissions, and everything else.
Could I have done it? Could I have taken this on, led seventy-some of my peers in this effort, all while keeping up with my full course load? I like to think that I could, but I don’t know.
Oliver turns around, hops off the podium, and spots me. Surprise flashes across his face. I’ve barely looked at him since that day in the lobby, let alone spoken to him. Yet here I am, crashing his rehearsal, staring right at him.
When he beelines straight for me, it’s my turn to look surprised. My brow flattens as I look behind me, as if there could be someone else he’d be walking toward, but it’s just a blank wall. Sure enough, he stops right in front of me, careful to keep at least a foot of space between us.
“How much did you hear?” he asks.
No greeting, of course. I shrug with forced nonchalance. “Enough.”
“How did we sound?”
This time, his question sounds so earnest that I don’t know what to say. Never, in all my time at this school, has Oliver asked me what I thought. Nor have I seen him ask anyone else their opinion on anything he did.
I narrow my eyes. “Do you want my honest answer?”
“Yes,” he huffs. “Why else would I ask?”
“Well, I didn’t hear that much,” I reply, choosing to give him a little grace for all the stress I know he’s under. “But what I did hear—it seems like they’re not responding to you. Maybe try a different approach?”
“Like what?” he fires back.
My train of thought is interrupted when Anthony appears at my side. The strap of his cello case is slung over his shoulder, his dark hair still styled into that artful swoop thing he does in the mornings. I smile at him as he slips his hand into mine.
“You’re still staying the night?” Anthony asks, to which I nod. He’s one of Rebecca’s three roommates; I cherish my nights spent off campus in the company of my friends. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, just a second.” I turn my attention back to Oliver, who is staring at Anthony’s profile so intently that I wonder what the hell that’s about.
“So, I was gonna say—try being a little nicer to them. Everyone’s got a lot on their plate, you know?
You barking orders at them isn’t going to help them learn the music faster. ”
“Right,” Oliver grits out as his gaze slides back to me. “I wouldn’t say I bark at anyone, but I’ll take that into consideration.”
It takes all my effort not to roll my eyes. Oliver looks so annoyed that we’re already on the brink of arguing. I swallow the resentment that’s managed to resurface in the two minutes I spent talking to him. Oliver says nothing when Anthony and I leave with half-hearted waves.
I already know he won’t take my advice, but I don’t care. It’s movie night at Rebecca, Anthony, Blake, and Chloe’s place. We’re watching my pick, West Side Story. I’m not going to let Oliver’s arrogance ruin that.
On Sunday night, when Anthony gets out of rehearsal, he calls me to tell me that Oliver brought in pizza for the whole orchestra.
I don’t believe what I’m hearing until Anthony shows up at my dorm with two slices that he snagged for me.
It’s the good kind, too, from the little family joint down the street.
SISTER GROUP CHAT
TODAY 8:31 PM
Rosa
8:31 PM
omg we get to see you!! like in a few hours!!
Amanda
8:32 PM
omggg I can’t wait!!
Celia
8:48 PM
well I have to go straight to my apartment and get ready for that dinner, so it’s really like two days
8:49 PM
but yes I’ll see you once that’s done
8:49 PM
friday!
Rosa
8:50 PM
sure lmao
Amanda
8:51 PM
;) ;) ;)