Piano Lessons

by gapty

Rating: everyone
Tags: Octavia, Sunflower Specatcle, Slice of Life, Drama, Equestria Girls, Trixie
Length: 8722

Octavia notices her classmate, Trixie, practising a classical piano piece, and jumps into helping her master it. But why is Trixie so resistant?

Octavia notices her classmate, Trixie, practising a classical piano piece, and jumps into helping her master it. But why is Trixie so resistant?

This fic was written for the May Pairings Contest 2023. Check out the other entries!

Huge thanks to PseudoBob Delightus for proofreading this fic and to Punished Bean for making the cover!

Published 2023-05-31 18:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-05-31 18:10:00 UTC

Piano Lessons

When Octavia heard the sounds of a piano coming from the practice room, she didn’t expect Trixie to be the one playing it. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief and took a second glance, but the sight before her remained the same. Despite Trixie’s stiff posture and rough transitions between notes, she was playing surprisingly well for someone whom Octavia had never seen touch a piano before.

Her amazement grew when she noticed a sheet of music before Trixie, indicating that the stage magician could read notes. Although the classical piece didn’t sound too difficult to Octavia’s trained ear, it was still something a pure beginner wouldn’t be able to play.

Octavia’s heart leapt with joy. Amidst a school where most students were part of modern music bands, there was finally someone who genuinely appreciated classical music. Her mind was already visualising how she and Trixie would play together and simply enjoy their shared love for this often underlooked and undervalued genre of music.

Trixie paused and leaned closer to the sheet music. Using her right hand, she played the melody slowly and repeated it several times before doing the same with her left hand. However, when she attempted to play with both hands and failed, she let out a groan and covered her face with her hands in frustration.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano,” Octavia said with a smile.

Trixie jumped up in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I usually practise here during my free periods,” Octavia replied. “But it’s the first time I’ve seen someone else here.”

“Trixie was here first, so don’t even think about blasting that cello in here!” Trixie retorted.

Octavia raised an eyebrow at the reply but didn’t say anything. It was a weird, but understandable response. Octavia didn’t like when her own practice was interrupted by background noise either. That was why she chose to practise in a room that was usually unoccupied.

Trixie returned to the same part, focusing intently on each finger as she played it slowly. Glancing at the sheet music, Octavia saw that this particular section was more challenging, so she simply sat on a chair and watched Trixie practise.

Trixie played the part once, then twice, then three times, but the melody still sounded unrecognisable. She leaned her forehead on the music stand and let out a loud sigh.

“You should practise more with each hand separately,” Octavia suggested.

“Ah, look who’s trying to teach Trixie how to play the piano,” Trixie mocked without looking up.

“I actually play it too,” Octavia retorted. “When I get stuck on a part, I train each hand until I perfect them, and only then play with both hands.”

Trixie raised her head and turned to face Octavia. Her lips were straight, and her eyes looked tired. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Octavia said. “I just thought I could help.”

“Trixie doesn’t need any help,” Trixie replied firmly.

“If you say so,” Octavia shrugged and pulled out her phone, but secretly watched how Trixie continued to play.

As time went on, Trixie wasn’t able to get this part right. Octavia couldn’t suppress a superior smirk when she heard Trixie taking her advice and practising each hand, but despite this, she still couldn’t play it.

“You play this with the wrong fingers,” Octavia said, but backed up when Trixie shot her a threatening stare. “Why are you angry?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” Trixie replied and clenched her fists. “Just leave me alone, you’re distracting me!”

“Fine then.” Octavia grabbed her cello case and made her way towards the door. However, as she opened it, she looked back the last time.

“You have to hold the C note with your first finger, then switch to the third,” Octavia explained before closing the door behind her.

During her lunch break two days later, Octavia walked by the same room and heard the familiar sound of the piano. Upon entering, the playing immediately stopped.

“You again?” Trixie grumbled.

“How is the piece going?” Octavia asked, ignoring her question.

“Why do you care?” Trixie asked.

Octavia let out a sigh. “As a classical musician, I want to help you master it.” And she also hoped that Trixie would keep playing.

“And what if Trixie doesn’t want that?” Trixie shot back.

“Stop being stubborn,” Octavia replied firmly. “Are you practising this for something specific?”

Trixie averted her gaze before muttering, “For my mother’s birthday.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Octavia smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “Now go away!”

Octavia ignored her, and asked, “Have you taken piano lessons before? You play quite well.”

“About five years ago, my mother forced me to take them.”

“When’s her birthday?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Trixie retorted.

“Just curious.” Octavia raised her hands to show innocence.

“Saturday.”

“So, you have four more days to prepare,” Octavia replied.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

Octavia sighed. Why was Trixie so on edge?

“I was just thinking out loud. You already play the piece quite well, and with a few more days of focused practice, you can perfect it.”

“I don’t want to perfect it!” Trixie yelled, hitting her fists on the piano keys.

Octavia watched silently Trixie calm down, her breathing returning to normal. She now understood Trixie. The pianist was getting frustrated by the piece and had to take it out on Octavia.

“Sorry,” Trixie muttered. “It’s just…”

“Different from doing stage magic?” Octavia asked softly.

Trixie thought for a moment before nodding.

“I understand that trying something new can be difficult,” Octavia said, “but think of it this way: you’ve achieved a high level of skill as a magician, which means you have the potential to perform well on the piano, too.” Octavia pulled up a chair next to Trixie. “If you want, I’m still willing to help you.”

Trixie didn’t respond as Octavia sat down and looked at the sheet music.

“See?” Octavia pointed, “You’ve already got more than half of it.”

“Have you ever watched any of my acts, or do you only care now that I’m playing the piano?” Trixie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never talked to me before.”

Octavia considered probing further into Trixie’s words but decided against it. The focus had to be on classical music. “Do you want my help or not?”

“I don’t know,” Trixie muttered.

“It’s for your own mother,” Octavia reminded her.

Trixie looked away. “Fine.”

Patiently, Octavia observed as Trixie repeated the melodic exercise over and over again. It had taken some effort to get the reluctant pianist to keep at it, but Octavia remained steadfast in her belief that these finger-training sessions were crucial.

With each repetition, the progress became evident. Trixie’s fingers grew more at ease and swift, and before long, Octavia was treated to a flawless rendition of the training piece.

“Excellent!” Octavia praised. “Why don’t you give that challenging section of your piece another try now?”

Trixie let out a sigh, straightened her posture, and positioned her fingers on the keys. Slowly, she played through the section she had struggled with before. Octavia’s smile widened as she observed Trixie’s fingers confidently landing on the correct keys without any external guidance. This time, Trixie flawlessly executed the passage without a single mistake or interruption. As she reached the end, Trixie sat motionless, silently staring at the sheet music.

“Didn’t I tell you it would help?” Octavia asked.

A grimace formed on Trixie’s face.

“What?” Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Do I look like I want progress?” Trixie retorted.

“Enough with the nonsense. Play that section again. Repetition is the key to mastering it,” Octavia insisted.

“Master it yourself,” Trixie muttered through clenched teeth.

A faint curve appeared on Octavia’s lips as she found amusement in Trixie’s show of defiance.

On the last day of the school week, Octavia leaned back in her chair as she listened to Trixie play the piece.

It had taken Octavia’s full patience, as Trixie had to be kept on task constantly, but her own persistence was fruitful. Trixie was now playing the piece excellently, her fingers dancing effortlessly over the keys, capturing every nuance of the melody and transitioning between each passage seamlessly.

Octavia couldn’t help but feel proud that she was able to help Trixie with this achievement, and when she finished, Octavia applauded. “Well done!”

“Hmph.” Trixie turned up her nose.

Octavia frowned. “What’s up with you? Aren’t you happy that you perfected it?”

“Why does it matter? You forced me to perfect it,” Trixie responded.

“Me? I didn’t force you to do anything,” Octavia replied.

“Being obnoxious and staying with me until I get it is forcing it.”

“It’s not me who wants you to play the piano, Trixie.”

Trixie took a sharp breath between her teeth, her brows knitted. “Not you? Are you serious?”

“Of course. You’re the one who is making a birthday present,” Octavia replied calmly.

“Piano lesson is over, Ms Melody,” Trixie said, and stood up, put the sheet music in her bag, and left the room.

Octavia shrugged. She had achieved what she wanted. Who knew, maybe Trixie would develop a real interest in classical piano. She already had some pieces in mind where she’d need a piano accompanist.

On Monday, Octavia eagerly awaited a chance encounter with Trixie to ask about the outcome of the birthday present. While she was genuinely curious about how her mother had received it, she also expected some measure of gratitude for the assistance she had provided in mastering the piece.

However, it seemed that Trixie was actively avoiding her whenever they crossed paths in the hallway, leaving Octavia with no choice but to wait for the lunch break to approach. She deliberately sat down next to Trixie, determined to initiate a conversation.

“Hello, Trixie,” she greeted warmly.

“Octavia,” Trixie replied, her mouth twisting with a hint of disdain.

“So,” Octavia smiled, trying to maintain a positive tone. “How did the birthday present go?”

“Is that all you care about?” Trixie grunted, stuffing a spoonful of food into her mouth.

“It’s only natural for me to be interested in the outcome, considering the time we spent practising together,” Octavia explained calmly.

Trixie chewed her food, her gaze filled with anger as she stared at Octavia. The tension in the air became palpable, but Octavia chose to remain silent.

Finally, Trixie broke the silence. “It was a failure.”

For a fleeting moment, a trace of doubt crossed Octavia’s mind as she knocked on the door. After all, it was a matter concerning the Lulamoon family, and as a stranger, she questioned her right to intervene. However, having played a pivotal role in Trixie’s mastery of the classical piece, Octavia felt a profound obligation to ensure Trixie’s mother understood the immense effort her daughter had invested.

As the door swung open, Octavia saw an orange-skinned woman with vibrant yellow hair, wearing what appeared to be work attire.

“How may I help you?” the woman asked.

“Good evening, Ms Lulamoon. I’m Octavia Melody, one of Trixie’s classmates,” Octavia introduced herself.

“Just call me Spectacle. Has my daughter caused any trouble for you?”

Octavia shook her head. “No, not at all. Actually, I wanted to speak with you personally, if you don’t mind.”

Spectacle raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Would you like to come inside?”

“If it’s not an inconvenience,” Octavia replied.

With a wave of her hand, Spectacle gestured for Octavia to follow. “No need to take off your shoes.”

Octavia stepped into the house and looked around. Accustomed to the refined aesthetics of her own living space, Octavia couldn’t help but take note of the mismatched furniture, faded wallpaper, and the overall sense of modesty that pervaded Trixie’s narrow home. It was a stark departure from the grandeur and meticulous arrangement she was accustomed to.

Led into the living room, Octavia settled herself on the couch and pulled her legs in. How could anyone sit here with the coffee table so close?

“Would you like something to drink?” Spectacle asked.

“No, thank you,” Octavia declined.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Octavia pursed her lips, contemplating how to begin. “I heard from Trixie that you celebrated your birthday last weekend. It may be belated, but happy birthday nonetheless.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Spectacle replied, taken aback. “How did Trixie mention it to you?”

“She was practising a piano piece and I helped her to learn it.”

Spectacle’s lips curved into a graceful smile. “You did? That’s impressive! It’s a monumental task to get her to even sit in front of our piano, let alone complete a piece.”

Octavia blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in Spectacle’s demeanour. “Did she play it well?”

“She played it excellently! It was an absolute delight to listen to,” Spectacle said.

Furrowing her brow in confusion, Octavia wondered why Trixie had claimed her birthday present was a failure.

Spectacle continued, her voice tinged with nostalgia, “Maybe now Trixie will decide to focus more on the piano again. When she sets her mind to it, she can make progress even faster than me.”

“You play the piano?” Octavia inquired.

Spectacle nodded. “Since my childhood. I dreamed of becoming a virtuoso pianist, performing in grand concert halls, and captivating millions of spectators. I imagined people admiring my talent and watching me answer interview questions on television.”

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle softly; it seemed the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“But what about you?” Spectacle asked. “How long have you been playing the piano?”

“Only a few years. I’m actually a cellist; I picked up the piano as an addition.”

“Even more impressive that you were able to help Trixie so much,” Spectacle replied. “Cello is a hard instrument to play, isn’t it?”

“It can be challenging, especially in the beginning,” Octavia explained. “It took me months before I could produce a consistent note, for example.”

Spectacle nodded in understanding. “A piano is easier in that regard. Didn’t you have to also memorise the correct finger placements? That must have been quite burdensome when you were starting out.”

Octavia smiled at Spectacle’s reply. She never expected to develop a liking for Trixie’s mother, let alone have her understand the difficulties Octavia had faced in her musical journey.

“I had an excellent teacher,” Octavia explained, “and my father also played the cello, so he helped guide me as well. It wasn’t easy, but I had a lot of help.”

“I see,” Spectacle said, her gaze suddenly shifting to the coffee table in front of her.

“And what about Trixie’s father?” Octavia asked. “Does he also play an instrument?”

Spectacle raised her eyebrows, scratching her head. “I don’t think so.”

Octavia’s curiosity piqued. Shouldn’t Spectacle know it? The question seemed to have caught her off guard.

Glancing at a cupboard adorned with various family photos, Octavia quickly understood the reason. The frames showcased only pictures of Spectacle and Trixie, with the exception of one that might have been Spectacle and her parents.

Seeking to shift the conversation, Octavia asked, “How did Trixie develop an interest in magic?”

Spectacle sighed, rubbing her arm. “From her father.”

“He’s a magician?” the question escaped Octavia’s lips, before she pressed them together nervously. So much about changing the subject…

“Yeah. Trixie is following in his footsteps. Once she started pursuing magic, she stopped playing the piano.”

Octavia couldn’t help but sense the pain in Spectacle’s voice and felt sympathy towards her. While she didn’t know what happened in the relationship between Trixie’s parents, she didn’t want to be indiscreet and pry about it.

She inquired cautiously instead, “Completely?”

“Not completely. She sometimes goes back to it, but whenever I praise her, she stops again.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, recalling Trixie’s reluctance to seek help with her piano practice. There was clearly an issue at hand, and she was sure that it wasn’t the mother’s. After all, Spectacle praised Trixie whenever she returned to the piano. Could it be a form of rebellion? Was Trixie trying to gain her father’s approval by pursuing magic?

Spectacle continued, “That’s why it meant so much to me when Trixie said she would play a piano piece for me, and it was an even bigger surprise when she played it so beautifully, like in my prime.” She let out a sigh. “But I’m rambling. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Actually,” Octavia said, “the matter has been resolved. Thank you so much for the conversation.”

“So soon?” Spectacle wondered. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink before you go?”

“No, thank you.” Octavia declined politely. “I need to head home now anyway.”

A quick, intricate melody filled the room, a piece that might sound unremarkable to untrained ears. However, a discerning classical enthusiast would immediately recognise the skill required to execute the leaps between high and low notes, the combination of staccato and vibrato, and the overall intensity conveyed.

Behind her cello, Octavia played with closed eyes, relying solely on her memory. Every note was given the precise intonation it demanded. She was preparing for an upcoming competition, and that meant practising relentlessly until she could perform the piece in her sleep—a feat she was rapidly approaching.

Her training session was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open, and a familiar classmate scrambled into the music room.

“Trixie isn’t here!” Trixie whispered urgently, darting behind a nearby table.

Octavia scratched her head, perplexed by the strange response. Before she could gather her thoughts, the door creaked open again, and Mr Doodle’s head popped in.

“Have you seen Trixie?” the teacher asked.

Octavia blinked, then shook her head in response.

Mr Doodle scanned the room briefly before closing the door.

It took Octavia a moment to process the situation. “Why is he searching for you?” she asked, but received no answer.

Glancing around, Octavia couldn’t spot Trixie anywhere. Only the distinct sound of a foil bag being torn open indicated she was still in the room. Octavia approached Trixie, who was munching away at a packet of peanut butter crackers.

“Trixie said she’s not here,” Trixie mumbled with a mouth full of food, before taking another bite.

“Why is Mr Doodle chasing after you?” Octavia asked.

“He wants my crackers!”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me that a teacher is pursuing you for your crackers?”

“Yes.” Trixie took another bite, unabashed.

“And you definitely didn’t steal them from him?”

“Trixie saw them first!” Trixie replied. “He didn’t even know we had them until he saw me jump in line. He’s jealous.”

Octavia shook her head. A nagging feeling told her that Trixie cut in line in front of Mr Doodle, snatched the crackers, and made a quick getaway.

“Thanks for not snitching on me,” Trixie said, through the crackers.

“You’re welcome.” Octavia crossed her arms, maintaining her position.

Initially ignoring Octavia’s presence, Trixie continued to eat the stolen pack of crackers. However, when Octavia’s finger started tapping on her arm, Trixie finally asked, “Is there something wrong?”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me for something else?”

Tilting her head, Trixie’s jaw moved up and down before she swallowed. “What for?”

Octavia huffed in disbelief. “Are you serious? Who was the one who helped you master that piece?”

“Trixie never asked you to do it,” Trixie scoffed. “You were the one who stuck around when I told you to leave.”

“Again with that?” Octavia shot back. “Why are you like this? Why do you insist on doing everything on your own? And why did you claim the present was a ’failure’?”

Taking a deep breath, Trixie gave Octavia a threatening stare. “Listen, Cello Girl, why don’t you go back to playing your boring classical pieces and stop forcing yourself into my life?”

Octavia’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Did Trixie really just dismiss her like that? As the magician bit into another cracker, Octavia clenched her fists and stomped her foot on the ground. “And you–!” she began to yell, but abruptly stopped.

She looked into Trixie’s eyes, who had leaned back in surprise at the outburst. Octavia wanted to counter Trixie’s obnoxious, ungraceful behaviour, but then she remembered her own class. She lifted her head high and turned on her heels.

There was no point in arguing with someone like Trixie.

What was intended to be a calm, relaxing lunch break quickly turned into an onslaught of loud exclamations that never seemed to cease.

To clarify, it wasn’t as if every student was supposed to whisper, or as if the cafeteria was generally silent. However, Octavia had observed that Trixie had a preferred audience, and unfortunately for anyone with ears, those students happened to be sitting at the same table as her. Consequently, Octavia became an unwilling spectator of an impromptu magic show, where Trixie loudly announced each move of her card tricks, all while boasting about her being “Great and Powerful.”

Despite her lack of interest, Octavia couldn’t help but watch the performance. Trixie started with an empty card box, which magically produced a deck of playing cards after a few shakes. Derpy was invited to pick a card and return it to the deck, which Trixie then shuffled. Following that, Bulk chose a random number, and Trixie placed the corresponding number of cards on the table, meticulously counting each one aloud until reaching the chosen number.

Octavia rolled her eyes. It was obvious that the next card would be the selected one. She couldn’t understand Trixie at all. What made this trick so special? Sure, Octavia didn’t know the precise mechanics behind the illusion, but wasn’t it essentially the same concept being repeated? Why would anyone be interested in witnessing something they had seen numerous times before, especially with Trixie incessantly praising herself throughout? Glancing at Derpy and Bulk, Octavia assumed they were too polite to call Trixie out, and Trixie, craving any validation, continued to return to them because of it.

“Aaaand is this your card?” Trixie asked, turning over the card.

Octavia slapped her forehead with her hand. How had Trixie managed to mess up one of the most fundamental magic tricks? Looking at Derpy, she noticed the girl chuckle nervously before shaking her head.

“Oh, really?” Trixie asked, examining the card more closely.

“Don’t worry,” Bulk reassured, placing a hand on Trixie’s shoulder, “everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

“Perhaps you should focus on piano instead,” Octavia remarked, across tables. “You’ve made excellent progress there, unlike here.”

Trixie’s expression froze. Her eyes slowly shifted towards Octavia, and their gazes locked, but Trixie remained silent.

“What? It’s true.” Octavia shrugged.

“Maybe,” Trixie replied, her voice cold, “Trixie needed to do a magic gesture.” Without averting her eyes from Octavia’s, she placed her hand over the incorrect card. With a swift stroke of her finger, the card suddenly transformed into the right one.

Derpy gasped, and the two spectators applauded. Octavia could only bite her lip, her gaze fixed on the card in Trixie’s hand, realising that the magician had never failed the trick. She didn’t dare look back at Trixie, yet she could feel the piercing intensity of Trixie’s stare.

“What do you think, Cello Girl?” Trixie asked, her voice still icy. “Did Trixie make progress?”

Octavia gulped. Knowing Trixie, this situation would only escalate further. Hastily, she grabbed her tray and made a swift retreat.

The school bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. Students flooded out of their classrooms, walking straight to their lockers and exiting the building after collecting their belongings.

Octavia, however, had to make another stop, and unlocked a door. Stepping into the small room, she surveyed her surroundings, and her heart skipped a beat.

Where was her cello?

She distinctly remembered placing it there. Carrying the cello around the school was impractical and exhausting, so Principal Celestia had generously provided her with the keys to an unused storage room.

Had she forgotten to lock it? Panic surged through her as she clutched her head, fearing the loss of her instrument.

Why had she brought it to school in the first place? Her parents had repeatedly warned her against bringing something so valuable to a place like this, but she hadn’t listened. And beyond the personal and monetary value, losing her instrument couldn’t have happened at a worse time, with the musical competition just around the corner. How would she practise? Missing even a single day of practice could ruin her chances!

Thoughts raced through her mind, contemplating who could be responsible. Could it have been the janitor? Perhaps a teacher had mistakenly taken it, confusing it for school property? She turned around and sprinted towards Celestia’s office, but then she abruptly halted.

Could it have been Trixie?

The mere thought filled Octavia’s body with anger, causing her to clench her teeth. It had to be that obnoxious girl, didn’t it? Weren’t magicians known for their ability to pick locks during their escape acts?

Without hesitation, she took off running, not toward the office, but toward the school entrance. Scanning the area, she quickly spotted Trixie.

She sprinted towards her without getting noticed and grabbed her by her shirt.

“What—”

“Tell me where my cello is!” Octavia interrupted Trixie’s question.

“What cello?” Trixie asked innocently.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Octavia retorted. “You got angry at me and stole my cello!”

“Oh, so that’s what you think?” Trixie chuckled and wrenched herself free from Octavia’s grip. “Let Trixie enlighten you. She didn’t steal your cello, simply because she couldn’t care less about some boring Cello Girl like you. In fact, Trixie deems you unworthy of giving a second thought, so back off!”

Octavia’s fists tightened. Trixie’s irritating habit of speaking in the third person was already infuriating, but now she was throwing insults?

“Is someone getting angry?” Trixie mocked her. “Is someone upset that she can’t play her precious cello?”

“I have a competition to prepare for!” Octavia shot back.

“A competition, you say?” Trixie’s grin widened. “Maybe our Cello Girl should play the piano there instead. After all, it’s something she’s so good at.”

Octavia grunted. “Keep your insecurities to yourself!”

“Insecurities?” Trixie retorted. “Trixie is not insecure about herself. Trixie is Great and Powerful, a famous magician, a—”

“Famous magician?” Octavia shouted, her rage reaching its peak. “Who even cares about your magic?”

“Everyone!” Trixie shouted back. “They adore the Great and Powerful Trixie! Soon, she’ll be performing in front of millions, and fooling everyone on HayTube with her tricks!”

“No one cares for your magic tricks, Trixie! Not me, not anyone at school, not even your own father!”

“You’re wrong!” Trixie retorted, but then she recoiled, her eyes widening. “My… father?”

Octavia, seeing how it had taken Trixie by surprise, continued on. “Oh, you know I’m right. Do you honestly believe your father will care about you just because you learned some parlour tricks?” She took a step closer. “You’re foolish to believe that, and deep down, you already know it.”

“How do you…” Trixie stammered, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Perhaps you should make your mother happy instead. After all, she’s the only one who cares for you.”

Octavia turned on her heels, determined to leave behind this dense and annoying magician. She didn’t even care at this moment to get her cello back. However, she felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around.

Before she could even register that it was Trixie who had done it, a fist came flying towards her face.

“Here, take this,” Nurse Redheart said, extending an ice bag towards Octavia.

“Thank you,” Octavia mumbled, pressing the cold pack against her eye. It helped slightly to ease the pain. “Will I end up with a black eye?”

“Based on how it looks right now, yes. But the ice should help reduce the swelling and bruising.”

Octavia took a deep breath. Why did she ever try to help Trixie? She should have known that getting involved with someone like her would only lead to trouble. Now, she had a damaged face and a missing cello—she might as well withdraw from the competition.

“Do you know what will happen to Trixie?” Octavia asked.

“She’s currently in Principal Celestia’s office. I assume her parents will be called and informed about the incident,” the nurse explained.

“Will she be given detention?”

“Most likely, but I’m not the one who decides that.”

The door swung open, and Mr Doodle entered the room, carrying a cello case. “Is this yours?” he asked.

Octavia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes! Where was it?”

“The janitor found it behind the parking lot, hidden in the bushes.”

Octavia took the from him, as well as she could with her free arm, and opened the case. A wave of relief washed over her as she saw that her cello was unharmed. “Is there security footage?” she asked.

“For that, you’ll need to speak with Principal Celestia,” Mr Doodle responded.

“I understand. Nurse Redheart, is there anything else I need to do?”

Nurse Redheart shook her head. “Just remember to take breaks from the ice bag every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Very well. Then I must pay a visit.” Octavia picked up her cello case and exited the room, heading straight towards the Principal’s office.

Right now, there was nothing Octavia desired more than to see Trixie face the consequences she deserved. No one should be allowed to get away with assaulting a lady like herself, and Trixie was the one who started the conflict with her lack of gratitude in the first place. The magician needed a reality check, and it couldn’t have come sooner.

Upon reaching the office, Octavia knocked firmly on the door before entering.

“Octavia, you’ve arrived just in time,” Principal Celestia said. “Please take a seat. I need to ask you a few additional questions regarding this incident.”

Octavia glanced briefly at Trixie with a wide grin, not caring to hide her satisfaction at seeing her classmate in an anxious state, desperately avoiding eye contact.

“Principal Celestia,” Octavia began, “I would like you to check the surveillance camera footage of the parking lot. I’m very curious to see who might have placed my instrument in the bushes.”

As Octavia mentioned the cameras, she noticed a subtle twitch in Trixie’s body. It couldn’t have been more obvious...

“Trixie, did you do it?” Celestia asked in a friendly, calm tone.

Octavia scoffed. Someone like Trixie didn’t deserve polite treatment.

Trixie rubbed her arm, looking down at the ground.

“Trixie,” Celestia continued, “if it was you, we’ll see it nonetheless. It’s better if you confess right away.”

“I did it, okay?” Trixie suddenly burst out and pointed her finger at Octavia. “I wanted to teach her a lesson. She’s so dense, stupid and—”

Celestia cleared her throat, signalling Trixie to calm down with a hand gesture.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Trixie shouted, standing up and turning to Octavia. “Do you think you know me, Cello Girl? Did you really believe I ever wanted your help?”

“You accepted it,” Octavia replied.

“Because I had no choice! How would it have looked if I didn’t let you help me prepare a gift for my mother?”

“Exactly as you look right now.” Octavia removed the ice bag from her eye. “Hurtful, ignorant, and self-centred.”

Trixie clenched her fists. Her eyes, full of hatred, met Octavia’s. “And you’re not like that?”

“No,” Octavia responded calmly. “I was selfless and sacrificed my own valuable practice time for you.”

“Again, I did not want that. I never asked for your help. I told you to leave me alone, but you clung to me like an obnoxious—”

“If you two don’t stop right now,” Celestia intervened, “you’ll both be given a month of detention!”

Octavia could only roll her eyes. Couldn’t Trixie see that she was only making things worse for herself? Apparently not, as Trixie stood defiantly in place.

“Trixie, please sit down,” Celestia ordered.

“I hated every minute you helped me!” Trixie shouted, stomping her foot on the ground. “I never wanted to play the piano well! My mother already hates what I do, and now you’ve given her hope that I’ll be playing that instrument instead!”

Octavia shrugged. “It’s far better than doing magic tricks."

“That’s enough!” Celestia positioned herself between the two girls. “Neither of you will say another word until I ask you. And Trixie, sit down.”

Trixie took a deep breath but remained standing.

“Trixie,” Celestia warned.

Before Trixie could react, the door swung open, and a woman entered the room.

“I came as fast as I could,” Spectacle said, scanning the scene before her. Her eyes widened with concern when she noticed Octavia’s black eye. “Oh, Trixie…”

“Ms Lulamoon,” Celestia greeted her with a relieved voice. “I’m so glad to see—”

“You told her about my father, didn’t you?” Trixie asked angrily, stepping towards her mother.

Spectacle pressed her lips nervously together.

“It was you who gave her the idea that I do magic tricks because of him, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t—” Spectacle started, but Trixie interrupted.

“When will you accept that I do it because I love it? When will you accept that I am not like you?”

Tears welled up in Trixie’s eyes. Octavia began to feel uncomfortable witnessing this family drama unfold before her, but she didn’t dare to leave. A quick glance to Celestia showed that the Principal had her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of curiosity and worry.

“Trixie, I’m… sorry,” Spectacle stammered.

“You’re sorry?” Trixie shouted. “Sorry for what? That you couldn’t force me to be like you? Well, here’s some good news!” She grabbed Octavia’s arm and pulled her before Spectacle. “This is your new daughter! She’s just like you, and nothing like me! Isn’t that perfect?”

Octavia tried to pull away, but Trixie held her firmly in place.

“And me? I’m just like my father. I look like him, and I love the same thing he does. That’s why you hate me, isn’t it?”

“I don’t hate you!” Spectacle replied immediately.

“Liar!” Trixie shouted, reaching into her jacket and throwing a smoke bomb to the ground.

When the smoke cleared, Trixie was gone.

Octavia looked at Spectacle and felt a pang of pity at the worry on her face. And for the first time, she felt genuine remorse for Trixie.

How had she been so blind? The signs were obvious, and now she felt terrible for pushing Trixie into something she despised, unintentionally getting involved in a deeper family issue. Shouldn’t she have been the one to understand Trixie best? Wasn’t she also someone who loved doing something that no one else seemed to care about?

“I’ll… go look for Trixie,” Spectacle muttered. “If there is nothing else you need…”

Celestia nodded. “We can talk later.”

Spectacle nodded and left the room.

“And as for you,” Celestia turned to Octavia, “I want you to tell me everything about what happened.”

The train station was crowded with people, each consumed by their own hurried schedule and oblivious to the solitary figure sitting on a bench. Two bags and a star-speckled box were strewn beside her, but it was the girl’s unmistakable magician’s outfit that caught the eye.

Trixie remained motionless, her gaze fixed on some distant point, her expression an enigma. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Octavia’s approach until she stood before her.

Without sparing a glance, Trixie simply asked, “What do you want?”

“May I sit next to you?” Octavia asked.

“No.”

Despite the rejection, Octavia moved one of the bags aside and sat next to Trixie. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“What does it look like?” Trixie retorted with a hint of spite.

“The train to Manehattan left five minutes ago,” Octavia said. “And the next one isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

“I’m waiting for that one,” Trixie replied curtly.

“You didn’t enter the previous train.”

Trixie turned her gaze to Octavia for the first time. “Did you come here to tell me that you stalk me?”

“No. It was more of a guess that I would find you here. And the train ticket in your hand is for today,” Octavia explained.

“Congratulations, now you’re also Sherlock Holmes.” Trixie scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Octavia sighed. “Look, Trixie, I… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Trixie laughed. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“First of all for what I said about your father, but also for not realising how much we have in common.” Octavia immediately felt Trixie’s piercing gaze. “Not in terms of what we love to do, but in how others treat us for it.”

“Explain,” Trixie demanded, her voice tinged with anger.

“My father is a jazz musician, and my mother is obsessed with jewellery and luxury lifestyles. I mean, they support me, but lately, they’ve stopped attending my concerts. And as for our school, despite having numerous clubs, not a single one of them revolves around classical music. Almost every student here is a musician in some form, but I’m the only one with an interest in the genre.”

Octavia turned her gaze to Trixie, who was looking at the ground and tapping her feet.

“That’s why I threw myself into helping you,” Octavia continued. “I hoped that you would be the one student who shared my passion. I thought we could enjoy the same thing, bond over our love for classical music. When you refused my help, I was too stubborn to accept that you might not find joy in what I find joy in.”

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Trixie replied.

“I know.” Octavia let out a sigh. “Nevertheless, the same applies to you. You love being a magician, but who else in our school shares that passion? You’re the only one I’ve seen performing magic tricks, improvising acts, or using smoke bombs. No one else would dive as deeply into it as you do.”

“And yet, people don’t care for it,” Trixie replied bitterly. “They just pretend, thinking they’re being polite.”

“Same as anyone else for my classical music performances,” Octavia said with a weak smile. “We both pursue what we love, what we feel is our calling, even when we find ourselves alone in that pursuit. We’re both stubborn and determined to master our craft, no matter the circumstances.”

A smile tugged at Trixie’s lips, and Octavia felt a sense of relief. It was already a victory that Trixie hadn’t lashed out at her, and now it seemed that they were beginning to understand one another.

“You’re right,” Trixie acknowledged. “We’re both stubborn, of course we’d end up butting heads. We should’ve known better.” She chuckled softly before sighing. “Trixie knows that what she did is far worse than what you did. Stealing and hiding your cello, giving you a black eye… Trixie is… she’s…”

Octavia placed a comforting hand on Trixie’s shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Trixie groaned.

“Nope,” Octavia grinned. “You have to say it.”

“Can we just skip this part?” Trixie pleaded.

“Trixie,” Octavia’s tone grew more serious.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Trixie finally relented. “There, Trixie said it. Are you happy now?”

Octavia shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. “I suppose. So, are we good now? No hard feelings?”

“Trixie will think about that,” Trixie replied.

Octavia stretched out her hand.

“Fine,” Trixie rolled her eyes and took it. “But that doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends, got it?”

“Sure,” Octavia replied. “But how about being lonely talent buddies?”

“Trixie is not lonely!” Trixie exclaimed. “Trixie is…” She trailed off as she caught Octavia’s mischievous grin. “Stop coming up with awful names, okay?”

“If you insist,” Octavia replied, then gestured towards the bags. “When will you go home?”

Trixie pondered for a moment. “Soon, I suppose. I just need a little bit more time to calm down.”

Octavia pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to inquire about Trixie’s mother. She had already made significant progress in getting along with Trixie, and she didn’t want to risk jeopardising it by aggravating old wounds.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to run away to my father,” Trixie broke the silence.

“Oh, really?” Octavia wondered.

Trixie nodded, her gaze distant. “The other time was about four years ago, when I found my love for doing magic tricks. It…” Trixie sighed deeply. “My mother couldn’t accept it. I’m aware that it’s because my father left her and she struggled a lot because of that—financially, emotionally, having to raise me alone—but she took it too personally. All she saw in my magic tricks was Jack Pot and his ’Splashtastic Escape’, not her daughter who found something she truly enjoyed. Whenever I would play the piano, she would always say, directly or indirectly, how I should keep doing that instead of magic, or how I’m so much better at it.”

Octavia pressed her lips together, feeling uncomfortable at the reminder of what she herself had said to Trixie. It was no wonder that Trixie took it so personally.

Trixie continued, “And one day I’d had enough, and wanted to run away to my father, thinking he would love me for following in his footsteps.” Trixie chuckled, but her pain was written on her face. “Turns out being ignored is way more hurtful. He never responded to any of my calls, emails or letters. That’s what stopped me from getting on the train.”

“Ouch,” Octavia couldn’t help but empathise.

“He probably thinks they’re spam,” Trixie supposed. “But it still stings. You were right about one thing, though: The only person who still truly cares about me is my mother. She kind of accepted over time that I love magic, and despite our conflicts, I can see how much she does for me. She works tirelessly, ensures I receive an education, even buys magic supplies for me and drives me to my commissioned shows, despite, well, being reminded of the man who abandoned her. I could never leave her, and I would never trade her for anyone else.”

“Thank you so much,” a voice came from behind them.

Both girls turned around to find Spectacle standing there.

“Mum?” Trixie’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

“To pick you up,” Spectacle replied, chuckling. “What? Did you think your own mother wouldn’t know where you were?”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that you two have made amends,” Spectacle replied. “And regarding how I treated you, Trixie… I am sorry.”

Trixie’s jaw dropped in surprise.

“What kind of mother am I to force my own likes onto you? How could I only make constant comparisons between magic and playing piano, making you feel like you had to choose between them?”

“Mum!” Trixie exclaimed, interrupting her.

“Please, dear,” Spectacle sighed. “Let me apologise. I shouldn’t have ever projected—”

“Mum!” Trixie shouted, and Spectacle paused, worry written in her face. With a softer voice, Trixie said, “I’m happy to talk about it, but…” She pointed with her head to Octavia.

Spectacle exhaled in relief, giving a smile. “Right. This isn’t the appropriate place to discuss it. Do you need a ride home?” she asked, turning to Octavia.

“No, thank you,” Octavia declined. “I came here on my bike anyway.”

“Then let’s go home, Trixie.” Spectacle picked a bag from the bench.

Octavia also grabbed a bag, wanting to help, but Trixie snatched it away.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t need assistance in carrying her belongings!” Trixie declared.

Octavia raised her hands in a defensive gesture. “I was just trying to help,” she replied, and gulped upon seeing Trixie’s narrowed eyes.

Suddenly, Trixie bursted into laughter. “You had to see your face!”

Octavia groaned, thinking it was too soon for jokes, but decided to let it slide. Instead, she extended her arm. “Alright, alright. Let me help you now.”

Trixie placed the bag on top of her magician’s box. “Don’t worry. Trixie can take care of herself.” With the push of a button, the box extended two pairs of wheels, and Trixie stood up. “But thank you anyway,” she smiled.

Octavia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile in response.

The spotlight shone brightly on the stage, nearly blinding Octavia, yet she strode confidently to the centre. Taking her seat, she positioned her cello before her, raising her bow as her fingers settled on the neck.

She closed her eyes and took a moment to gather herself. She felt the weight of her makeup covering her black eye, but she focused her attention on embracing the piece she was about to perform.

With a graceful motion, the bow glided across the strings, and the first notes flowed like a river from her cello—a fluent and masterful rendition of the classical piece that was sure to mesmerise the judges.

Every note poured out with her heart and soul. Her body swayed in harmony with the rhythm, her facial expression mirroring the emotions evoked by the music.

It wasn’t long until Octavia became lost in the music, oblivious to her surroundings—the judges, the spotlights, even the self-consciousness about her look that plagued her moments earlier. Now, she was fully immersed, her entire being moving like a graceful dance. Each finger intuitively found its place, and each bow stroke struck the strings with a majestic resonance, releasing vibrant notes into the air.

Octavia wasn’t playing for the judges anymore, but for the music. She allowed her emotions to flow through the instrument she knew so intimately, losing herself completely in the performance. When she reached the final notes of the piece, she remained motionless in her seat, afraid to disturb the lingering emotional atmosphere she had created.

The thunderous applause brought her back from her trance, and it took a moment for her to recall her surroundings before she gave a bow and exited the stage.

Octavia sighed, standing alone in front of a service table, casting a glance across the room at the other competitors engaged in conversation with their parents. Although her own parents had driven her here, they’d had to leave her behind due to some meeting.

At that moment, Octavia felt lonely and unrecognised, just as Trixie had, just as she’d made Trixie feel.

She shook her head. They’d made amends, she thought, but the guilt still trickled in.

“Is the food free?” she heard a familiar voice beside her.

“Um, yes,” Octavia replied, turning to the questioner.

Indeed, it was Trixie who had just asked. With widened eyes, Octavia watched as Trixie reached for a plate with chocolate pieces and took a few, only to grimace and spit one out after taking a bite. “Ew, who even eats these?”

“Trixie?” Octavia asked, still in disbelief.

“Yep, that’s me.” Trixie placed the chocolate pieces on a free napkin. “Bleugh, they clearly have no idea what real chocolate is.”

“What are you doing here?”

Trixie turned to face Octavia and tilted her head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Octavia shook her head.

“Watching you perform, Cello Girl.” Trixie gestured with a circular motion of her hand. “Why else would Trixie be here? The food is awful, for a start.”

“But why?”

Trixie laughed. “Trixie’s not sure if you’re joking or genuinely surprised to see her here. How else would she thank you for shortening her detention?”

“Principal Celestia agreed to it?” Octavia wondered.

“Yeah, but only because you asked. She takes physical violence very seriously.”

“I see,” Octavia muttered and scanned the surroundings. “Is your mother here?”

“She is. She met an old friend from school and—” Trixie stood on her toes, looking in a particular direction. “—yep, still talking.”

Octavia chuckled. “Thank you, too, for being here.”

“Nothing to thank us for,” Trixie waved. “My mother would watch this even if not for you and I…” She sighed. “Sorry again for the black eye. Being here is the least I could do.”

“Trixie,” Octavia reassured, placing a hand on her shoulder, “We’re beyond that. I’ve made my share of mistakes as well, and the fact that you and your mother are here means so much to me.”

Trixie offered a slight smile before leaning on the table. “By the way, that was a Great and Virtuosic performance of yours. It’s no wonder you love classical music.”

“Thank you! It was the best performance I’ve ever given.” Octavia sighed. “It’s just… disheartening that my own parents weren’t here to witness it.”

“Ouch,” Trixie grimaced. “Trixie feels you.”

They stood in silence. Octavia observed Trixie once again rising on her tiptoes to look for her mother, while her thoughts revolved around what the Lulamoons had done for her.

Their presence wasn’t merely a form of “payment”; it was genuine support. Octavia felt deeply grateful and appreciative of their sacrifice of time to be there, and she wanted to repay them, or at least Trixie, for their kindness. But how?

Then an idea sparked in her mind, and a wide smile formed on her face.

“Hey, Trixie,” Octavia interrupted the silence.

“Yeah?” Trixie muttered, reaching for a different food and taking a bite.

“I’ve been thinking about watching one of your magic acts. When—”

“You what?” Trixie exclaimed loudly, capturing the attention of the people around them.

“I wanted to ask you when your next performance is.”

Trixie stared at Octavia with her mouth wide open, crumbs from the bite she had just taken still lingering in her mouth.

“Trixie?”

“Do you really mean it?” Trixie asked, her voice filled with excitement.

“Yes, it’s the least—”

“Next Saturday!” Trixie pulled out of a pocket a flyer and handed it to Octavia. “Trixie will make sure you get the best seat, right in the front row. No, Trixie will even make you an assistant for one of the tricks if you want!”

Octavia was too taken aback to say anything. She hadn’t expected Trixie to be this enthusiastic about a classmate watching her show.

“Trixie, calm down,” Spectacle’s voice was heard as she approached them.

“Oops,” Trixie chuckled nervously and scratched the back of her head. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“Only a little?” Spectacle raised an eyebrow with a smile before turning to Octavia. “Great performance, Octavia. I’m sure you’ll be reaching the top spots.”

“Thank you,” Octavia replied.

“Pah, the top spots are not enough,” Trixie exclaimed. “You deserve the first place in the competition, and if the judges disagree, then the Great and Powerful Trixie will personally clean their ears!”

“Trixie,” Octavia tried to interject, but Trixie carried on.

“In fact, if they dare to deny you a place on the podium, Trixie shall burn this place—”

“That’s enough, Trixie,” Spectacle intervened, pulling her daughter close. “You’ve expressed your gratitude more than enough.”

Octavia sighed. “I highly doubt I’ll even make it to the top five. There were so many talented performers here.”

“Trixie didn’t hear any talents besides you!” Trixie exclaimed.

“Because you fell asleep.” Spectacle rolled her eyes.

“No, Trixie didn’t!”

“I had to wake you up because you were snoring.”

“Mum!” Trixie protested.

Octavia hid her laughter with her hand.

The cellist walked up to the announcer, wearing an expression of surprise, as she graciously accepted the second-place medal. Her heart had sunk when her name hadn’t been called before the announcement of the first three places, so it was an even greater wonder for her to have achieved such a high position.

Turning towards the spectators, she was greeted with applause. A tear welled up in her eye as she felt an overwhelming rush of joy. All those countless hours of practice had finally paid off, and she had reached a new milestone in her musical journey.

For a brief moment, a pang of sadness tugged at her heart, knowing that her own parents weren’t there to witness her achievement. However, she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. This was her moment to bask in happiness, and she wasn’t alone in this celebration!

Stepping to the side, she watched as the announcer slowly opened the envelope, preparing to announce the first-place winner.

“And in first place, we have… Fiddly Twang on the violin!”

“Are you kidding me?!” Octavia heard Trixie exclaim from the crowd just before the applause began.