Unable to focus on the music, I observe the audience—the sold-out seats by the stage, the groups of picnic blankets scattered on the lawn, the long lines at the food trucks. Plenty of townies who have no personal connection to LHS or the band are captivated by the magic that is Star Wars music live.

It’s amazing.

It’s also infuriating.

I mean, it is so bullshit, the school committee comparing any other arts club at LHS to the band. Of course the band is better! It has support, resources, opportunities. But seeing the way a community can come together and support a group of artists? It’s motivating.

If anything is going to distract me from HAVE A HE(ART) and Melted, it is a well-executed prank. So I stand. Smooth down my floral print midi skirt. Start to walk in the direction of the sound tent. Consumed by tech week, Reid hasn’t pranked back since my sheet music prank.

Giving me an opportunity to double down, per the double prank clause.

Honestly, the fact that creepy “Let It Go” is still torturing me deserves a double prank.

So I approach the sound tent with confidence. Cody and Jessica, Dad’s Berklee friends who lead the technical sound crew, welcome me into the area FOR CREW MEMBERS ONLY.

“Natalie!” Jessica’s tattooed arms wrap me in a hug.

“Aaron didn’t tell us we had backup,” Cody says, offering me a headset.

The sound tent is the motherboard of any outdoor event. Without its intricate setup and multiple tech checks, the band’s music would not carry in an open space. I take in the main system and the dozen cables attached to it, powering the band and making sure the sound is crystal clear, as the performance is also being recorded for the public access channel for accessibility.

Memories of being backstage as a kid flood back and I am ready to make the most of this knowledge. Also, everything is labeled. While Cody and Jessica discuss volume levels, their backs to me, I unplug the mic line labeled CLARINET #1.

It’s almost too easy.

I make small talk with Jessica and Cody about music (I haven’t played in years!) and college (very much undecided!). Then I join my mom and Delia at the main stage, just in time for my favorite song, made even better by mild public embarrassment.

Dad raises his arms in the air to cue the music.

Reid brings his clarinet to his lips and straightens his posture.

A rogue curl falls into his eyes when he flips the page.

I exhale, attempt to keep it cool. It’s a prank. It’s a prank. It is a prank.

Cody or Jessica will hear the problem. It will be resolved in seconds. But five seconds is all it will take to rattle Reid, to make him wish he hadn’t given me an opportunity to double prank.