Mrs. Mulaney’s lips press into a thin line, her expression neutral. “Yes, Fitz?”

“Can we talk about the ‘across the board’ arts budget cuts?” Fitz stands on the bleachers, her voice a decibel too high. “You didn’t mention the music program.”

Silence ricochets off gymnasium walls. That’s a thing that happens when Fitz speaks. I mean, students never speak up at Mrs. Mulaney’s assemblies. But Fitz, standing on the bleachers with her arms crossed and bubblegum lips pursed, demands attention.

Mrs. Mulaney’s eyes meet Fitz’s. “We’re lucky to still have a core music curriculum and band program, but unfortunately there will be cuts there too.”

Danica Martinez, a senior who is at the center of both the musical theater and a cappella clubs, raises her hand. Hell yes! This is Fitz’s power.

“What does that mean for The Trebles?”

“It means…”

“No Trebles, Danica,” Fitz chimes in.

Danica frowns. “Is that true?”

Mrs. Mulaney nods. “I’m sorry.”

The choral students erupt into panicked whispers—and Fitz isn’t even finished. “No Trebles. No theater or film classes, or advanced art classes, or lit mag, or broadcast journal—”

“Enough, Ava.” Challenging Mrs. Mulaney behind closed doors is one thing. Calling her out in front of the entire student body? It’s next level. “There is a newsletter in your student emails explaining the cuts and how to get involved in other LHS initiatives—”

“It doesn’t explain why the band gets a pass,” Fitz says.

Reid whips around to face us. “Because we’re good?”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

Reid shrugs. “We put in hours every week. We deserve it.”

I… cannot even right now.

Before I can overthink it, I stand beside Fitz. “No. Makayla’s portraits win regional prizes. Over the summer, Danica spent a week in New York representing LHS in musical theater workshops. Fitz got second place at the state theater festival for her monologue from Barefoot in the Park. Don’t tell me this is about quality performances.”

My voice measured even though I feel hot, like a spotlight is beaming on me, center stage.

Reid raises one eyebrow. “We don’t get second place, Natalie. We win.”

“Art is not about winning!” I retort, my voice now an octave too high.

Mrs. Mulaney clears her throat. “Ava. Natalie. Sit down.”

Fitz sits. Smooths her skirt. “I’m good, Caroline.”

Silence transforms into collective ooohs. Now it’s a scene.

“Okay. Everyone, please report to your first period class. Fitz…” Mrs. Mulaney’s neck snaps to face us. “My office.”

Henry’s eyes narrow. “Good job, Fitzgerald.”

Fitz stands, tossing her checkered JanSport over her shoulder, and shrugs. “What’s she going to do? Suspend me from after-school activities?”

“You’re my hero,” I say.

Fitz blows me a kiss. “You were amazing too.”

“Natalie!” Henry sighs, exasperated. “Don’t validate this!”