I turn for the door but Reid is already there. He twists the handle so it opens. “Get out.”

Toby swallows. “Like—rehearsal is over?”

“No. Like, you’re out of the show, asshole,” Reid says.

“Reid,” I say, turning around in surprise. Do I want to permanently kick Toby out? Of course. But we are a week into rehearsals. Next week we already start blocking. Yeah, it’s nine weeks until show night, but we have a two-week hiatus during winter break since so many people are traveling and celebrating the holidays. Opening night will be here before we know it. “I’ll be fine.”

Reid shakes his head. “I won’t. I’m not working with someone who doubles down on fascism.”

Oh my God. Toby stares at him, jaw slack, waiting for him to say never mind. But Reid points toward the door, emphasizing the exit. Without quite thinking about it, I put my hand on his arm and it is tense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Reid angry. Upset? Yes. Annoyed? Absolutely. Reid’s anger manifests in passive-aggressive quips, never like this.

“Is Natalie intense? Yeah. But it’s because she cares about this show so much. Probably more than everyone in this room combined. I already have a short list of five replacement options for you. But no one could replace her.”

Honestly, I expected Reid would get pissed too. But Reid’s anger on my behalf—Reid defending me—is so unexpected, let me tell you. I look down at my hand and realize it is still on Reid’s arm and shit, I drop it to my side.

“I can go to Mulaney,” Toby says, trying to bluster.

Reid laughs, the sound sharp. “And tell her what? That you casually referred to your director as a Nazi? Because that will go over well.”

“Well—” Toby starts, but he’s flailing.

“It’s over,” Danica says.

“Apologize and leave,” Emerson says.

I flip through my brain, trying to remember the Moritz auditions, and almost regret fighting so hard to keep this character in the script. But Toby isn’t the only option. Reid is right—we don’t have to work with him.

I don’t want to.

I mimic Reid’s stance, pointing toward the door. “You’re out.”

Toby rolls his eyes. “Whatever. At least I’m getting out before this shit show goes down in flames.” He throws his backpack over his shoulder and pushes past us out the door. I step back so I’m not whacked with his Herschel and bump into Reid.

“Um… let’s pick it up on Monday?” I say.

Danica and Emerson exhale, relieved that this mess of a rehearsal is over. On their way out, Danica stops at the door and swivels back to face us. “Callahan, you are savage. Damn.”

“Toby’s a jerk,” Emerson says. “Good riddance.”