Oliver didn’t know how to make his roommates see his point. “Teachers will be the judges, so we need to do something that will really impress them!” This was their third planning session, but they still couldn’t agree on a plan.

“Classical music isn’t my thing.” Rust shook his head. “I’m a hiphop dancer, man. I mean, what about a classical piece with a nice drum track underneath?”

“That would ruin it!” Oliver’s face heated. “You can’t make the greatest music on earth sound like...modern music! It would sound stupid!”

Rust’s face grew stony, which made Oliver even angrier for some reason. How can he not see it?

Min Ho put his hands up between them. “Okay, chill. Let’s work as a team.” Min Ho was a violinist and a witch like Oliver.

Why can’t he see my point?

Min Ho crossed his arms. “Magister isn’t judging, or I would agree with you, Oliver. The judges are high school teachers, and none of them are classical music teachers. So, I think we should go with something a little more contemporary.”

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What? No! How could Oliver demonstrate his immense talent without a classical piece that showed off his abilities on the cello?

Santosh was nodding. Of course, he was; he wanted to be a K-pop idol. “We need to do something that will grab the judges’ attention! Come in with a bang!” He clapped his hands together like he was yelling “Action!” in a movie. “C’mon Ollie, go with it!” “Oliver, please,” Oliver said tightly.

“Sorry, Olli—I mean, Oliver. But Min Ho is right; you need to chill, or we won’t have a chance at winning. And everyone needs to see what a star I am!” Santosh performed a spin on his heels and grinned at Oliver.

“Okay, so, then what’s your plan? Nobody else has come up with an idea,” Oliver pointed out.

“We mix them, like Rust suggested,” said Min Ho. “Classical music over a hip-hop beat. You and I will play, and Santosh and Rust will dance. Incorporate all our talents into one performance. That’s probably what the judges want to see.”

Oliver hated the idea of taking a great classical piece and making it modern. “Fine, but we write the piece ourselves. That would also impress the judges, right? And we wouldn’t be ruining the greatest music in history.”

“Are you going to write it, man?” asked Santosh.

“We can write it together. I don’t know hip-hop that well.” Oliver hated to admit when he lacked knowledge about anything, but he needed to keep his spot in the orchestra.

Min Ho was nodding. “I think that could work. Oliver and I could write a duet for violin and cello, and you all can help us mix it and put a backing track to it. I like to mix stuff in my spare time, so

I have the software on my computer.”