I blink, unable to process the declaration that has rendered an entire summer of work pointless.

“That’s it?” Henry asks.

“Can’t we recruit another teacher to take over?” Fitz asks.

Her words reverberate and I recalibrate. “Yeah, we’ll find a new advisor!”

Mrs. Mulaney shakes her head. “I wish it were that simple, but there are other considerations. Beyond Miss Bryant’s position being eliminated, the school board also cut down advisor stipends for after-school art programs. And Barefoot was not a helpful note to end on.”

“Seriously?” I snap.

“I’m just stating an unfortunate reality, Natalie.” Mrs. Mulaney shoots me eye daggers that rival my mother’s every time someone questions the validity of romance novels. Which should be weird, but I’m used to it. Before she rose through the ranks and became the youngest principal in the district five years ago, Mrs. Mulaney was only Caroline, a history teacher on the LHS teacher bowling team with my dad. As a result, she’s more quirky aunt than viable authority figure.

“But you took a meeting with us,” Fitz says.

“I’m taking meetings for all extracurricular groups that have been cut,” Mrs. Mulaney says. “Listening to how much these programs mean to students and building a case for the school committee to reconsider next year’s budget is the least I can do. As for this year, I don’t have anything left to work with.”

“That can’t be true. The band—”

Oh my God.

It hits me all at once. Even though his supply and music budget got cut, in the two weeks since school started, my dad has been able to secure buses for festival auditions, an honorarium to cover a visit from a member of the New York Philharmonic, and a new percussion set for his classroom.

An an arts budget does exist!

It just all belongs to the band.

I stand and toss my backpack over my shoulder. “This was such a waste of time.”

“Can I be honest with you?” Mrs. Mulaney stands to match my height, her palms pressed against her desk. “Lincoln High School has the top-ranked concert band in the MetroWest area. The festivals, the grant money they bring in, the positive press that comes with it—to the school committee, that matters. Also, band enrollment and retention has increased year over year, whereas participation in other extracurricular arts programs has declined across the board. I’m not happy about the cuts, I can promise you that, but I am happy that your dad and his students are surviving this mess. They’ve earned it.”

I laugh. “And we didn’t. Because all that matters is the bottom line.”