The rehearsal studio was a mess — wires tangled like spaghetti, the scent of hairspray mixing with cheap iced coffee, and the constant thump of bass echoing from a Bluetooth speaker someone forgot to turn off.
Kayla was already on her second set of lunges."Two, three, four—" she shouted, pumping her fists in time with a beat only she could hear.Then came the crash.
The mic stand toppled over dramatically, landing with a hollow clang on the wooden floor."Kayla!" Minnie shrieked, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "That's the third time this week!"Kayla struck a triumphant pose. "I'm just testing the earthquake resistance of our setup. You're welcome."
Mona sighed from her usual place on the couch — one leg crossed, clipboard in hand, steaming tea within arm's reach. She didn't look up."Try testing it without risking a concussion next time."
At that moment, the door flung open.
"Morning, disasters," Robin greeted with a smirk, sunglasses still on indoors and an iced coffee in each hand."Afternoon," Mona corrected without missing a beat.
Robin shrugged, tossed one drink to Kayla (who caught it mid-squat), and collapsed dramatically onto a beanbag. "Fashionably late. And caffeinated. I bring balance."
"Late is still late," Jasmine said from the corner, stretching her arms overhead with dancer-like grace. Her skater tank top was already damp from warm-ups. "You're lucky this isn't a skate meet."
Minnie paced between them, lipstick in one hand and a dance sheet in the other. "Okay, okay! Everyone please focus! The choreography for the bridge still needs tightening. We're missing the last pose on beat five! Robin, I swear if you miss your cue again, I will smudge your eyeliner on purpose."
"Bold of you to assume I'm wearing eyeliner," Robin muttered.
Across the room, Luna stood silently by the door, fiddling with her gloves.
"...I forgot them again," she mumbled, low enough that only Mona heard.
The group mom stood, calm as always. "Check the lost and found drawer, second cubby. You left a pair here last time too. You know I keep backups."
Luna blinked. "...Thanks."
"Now," Mona said, clapping her hands gently, "let's breathe. Kayla, tone down the kicks before we lose another piece of equipment. Robin, get your butt off that beanbag and help set levels. Minnie, you're doing great, but please stop threatening people mid-contour. Jasmine, you're perfect as usual—don't get cocky. Luna, gloves and center stage for mic check."
Jasmine turned toward Mona with a grin. "Did anyone ever tell you you'd make a terrifying kindergarten teacher?"
"I considered it once," Mona replied calmly. "Then I met all of you."
---
As the final run-through ended — with only one more mic stand casualty — the girls collapsed across the studio floor in a heap of limbs, laughter, and heavy breathing.
"Solid... effort," Jasmine panted, wiping her brow with her shirt. "Minnie didn't yell once during that take."
"I was busy dying," Minnie replied from the floor, arms stretched out like a fallen soldier.
Kayla reached across the pile and gently flicked Minnie's forehead. "We crushed it. Admit it."
"Fine," she mumbled. "We're mildly decent."
Robin tossed a scrunchie at her. "We're stars, and you know it."
In the background, Mona dimmed the main lights, leaving only the string of warm fairy lights by the window glowing like distant city stars. She lit a lavender-scented candle from her tote — something she always did after long rehearsals.
The room softened. So did the noise.
Luna sat by the windowsill, hugging her knees to her chest, watching the others with that familiar, quiet gaze.
Robin noticed. "You okay, Lu?"
Luna nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just… watching."
"Wanna join the pile?" Jasmine asked gently, tapping the floor beside her.
Luna hesitated. Then nodded.
She walked over — slowly, shyly — and sat beside them. The moment felt quieter now. More full. Like something unspoken had been mended.
Mona handed her a mug of still-warm tea. "Peppermint. Thought you might need it."
Luna took it with both hands. "...Thanks."
They all fell into a companionable silence. Breath slowing. Music still humming softly from the corner speaker.
Then Kayla, lying flat on her back, stared up at the ceiling and grinned. "Same chaos, new year."
"Same family," Mona added.
"Same dumb jokes," Robin said.
"Same... everything?" Minnie asked, her voice softer now.
"No," Jasmine replied. "Not everything."
She reached for Luna's hand and gave it the gentlest squeeze.
"We've grown," she said. "We're still us, but better."
Luna blinked. The kind of blink you do when you're trying not to cry.
And then, without a word, she squeezed Jasmine's hand back.
The Bluetooth speaker crackled to life again — one of their earliest tracks playing softly in the background. Off-key. Roughly mixed. But undeniably theirs.
The girls didn't speak. They just listened.To the music. To each other.To the mayhem they called home.