“We’re already on a ridiculous deadline, Natalie. Why would we make any part of the process harder for ourselves?” Reid asks.

“Because we put in the work! We stripped down a song for Fitz! I… thought we were on the same page.”

“We were. But it’s hard to be now, when Emerson is right in front of us.”

Dad raises his hands and shoots me a hear me out look. “Look, Natalie. I know you’re invested in Fitz. It’s understandable.”

“She’s one of the best actresses we have,” I insist. “This isn’t friendship bias!”

“But this is show business and also school committee business, and if you want to be taken seriously… Fitz isn’t strong enough to lead a musical,” Dad says.

There is it. The word. Serious.

And okay. I know I’ve said it. But it hits different, hearing it from Dad.

So far, taking the musical seriously has meant losing Henry as a codirector and putting our friendship in the worst place it’s ever been. Now it means dropping Fitz. I hate that there are stakes. That I’m helming a serious production without my favorite people—the exact opposite of why we fought so hard for drama club.

This is not why I Art.

But right now, it’s how I need to Art if I ever want to be able to do it that way again.

If a casting error—if my stubbornness—ruins next year’s art programming for an entire student body, I will never be able to show my face at LHS again.

I don’t even let the other worst-case scenario become a thought.

“You’re not wrong,” I say. “But I have conditions.”

I don’t know who looks more shocked.

“Really?” Reid asks.

“You’re… not going to fight this?” Dad asks.

I shake my head. “I want to keep stripped-down ‘Keep It In.’ We can write a simple melody for Emerson, but we’re not reverting. She’ll be a great Adina. And if that gets us the funding, I can write something great for Fitz next year.”

“Deal,” Reid says.

“Fitz is also Emerson’s understudy,” I say.

Reid nods. “Fine. But no pranking Emerson out of the show.”

“I would never!”

Reid looks at me like, really though?

Dad is stunned silent for a beat, before he pulls it together. Of course it stings, the way Dad was so obviously taking Reid’s side. The way Dad always takes Reid’s side. But I swallow it. For now, I am a professional. I am putting the future of the arts ahead of my own issues. It’s called growth.

“Great!” Dad says. “Huh. Maybe we won’t be here all night.”