"Play."
"No."
"Play."
"No."
"Play, or I'll start singing Nickelback until you beg me to stop."
"…That's cruel and unusual punishment."
"Exactly."
I groaned, clutching the guitar in my lap like a shield. The classroom was empty, just the two of us after school. Rina sat cross-legged on a desk in front of me, eyes glittering with mischief.
"Why am I even doing this?" I muttered.
"Because your audition's tomorrow, Music Boy," she said, waving a hand dramatically. "And you've got the stage presence of a frightened hamster. We're fixing that."
"I don't need stage presence. I just need to play."
Rina gasped, clutching her chest. "Blasphemy. Music isn't just sound, it's performance. You've gotta make people feel it."
"They'll feel something," I mumbled. "Probably secondhand embarrassment."
"Exactly my point." She hopped off the desk and paced like a general preparing troops for war. "Alright. Rule one: eye contact."
"Absolutely not."
"Yes. You can't just stare at your shoes like they're gonna applaud." She leaned down until her face was inches from mine. "Look at me."
I immediately looked away. "Nope."
"Coward."
"This is torture."
"Eye. Contact." She grabbed my chin and forced me to meet her gaze. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled with mock severity. "There. Now strum."
My heart pounded. I strummed once, the chord wobbling like jelly.
Rina burst out laughing. "You look like you're confessing a crime!"
"Because this feels illegal!"
She finally let go, wiping a tear from her eye. "God, you're hopeless. Okay, new plan—sing something."
"I don't sing."
"You do now."
"No."
"Yes."
"Rina—"
"Music Boy." She crossed her arms, smirking. "If you don't sing, I'll sing."
"…How bad could that be?"
She immediately launched into an off-key, dramatic rendition of some random pop song, complete with exaggerated dance moves.
"Stop! Please stop!" I begged, covering my ears.
"Not until you try!" she sang (badly).
I finally strummed a chord and mumbled a shaky line of lyrics I half remembered. My voice cracked halfway through.
Rina clapped like I'd just won an award. "Beautiful. Absolutely tragic, but beautiful."
I buried my face in my hands. "This is the worst day of my life."
"Wrong," she said cheerfully. "Tomorrow's the worst day. Today's just practice."
I groaned so loudly the guitar strings buzzed.
But later, when I was walking home alone, I realized something strange.
Yeah, I'd been humiliated. Yeah, she was impossible.
But for the first time, I'd actually played like someone was watching. And the world hadn't ended.