“You were humming the melody during breakfast,” Reid says.

I shake my head. “I was not.”

“You were!”

No way. “I don’t sing. Not at breakfast. Not in front of you.”

“You were humming. Whatever. The point is the stripped-down version we wrote is great. Fitz would monologue the hell out of it. But I’m still imagining it as a song. I think you are too.”

I sigh. “You’re wrong.”

As if on cue, Fitz slips and falls on her ass midsong.

“I’m okay!” she yells over the music.

“Ugh.” I groan into my hands.

To cut one of my best friends for a better show… or cast someone who can’t sing and has no rhythm in a leading role in a muscical?

Okay. When I put it like that, the choice sounds obvious.

But it’s an impossible decision.

“It’s not personal,” Reid says. “It’s an audition.”

Danica, satisfied everyone sans Fitz knows the steps as well as they can, jumps off the stage, jogs over to us, and takes her seat with the judges. It’s unfair how good she looks in MC Hammer pants and a loose crop top tank, her dark hair pulled back in a wavy ponytail, a black baseball hat on her head. She collapses into the seat next to me with a loud exhale.

“Cue music,” Danica yells.

Makayla, who in addition to being an incredible artist is also a secret tech wizard, has been commanding the sound booth with Arjun. Music fills the auditorium, an upbeat Bruno Mars song, and the tappers are tapping. It is… interesting? The sounds are not all in sync, arms are flailing, and it’s kind of a mess. But there is potential, I think. Emerson is annoyingly great. Toby, a junior who is the top contender to play Moritz, doesn’t fall on his face. Everyone miraculously ends on the same beat. I start to actually get excited about it.

“Again,” Danica yells. “It’s shuffle hop step toe toe heel heel! Not toe heel toe heel!”

It takes three more rounds for almost everyone to nail the basic choreography. Then Danica breaks the dancers into smaller groups so we can assess each individually. This goes on for about an hour, until Danica is satisfied. Thirty minutes or so into it, Henry steps away from the wings, joining us in the audience and taking the empty seat on the other side of Danica.

Danica is literally between us.

The metaphor is not lost on me, but I avoid eye contact through the rest of the tap routine.