Up until this point, Reid, Henry, and I have been consumed by getting everyone off book, blocking choreography, and ensuring the ensemble harmonizes in perfect pitch. Now it is time to cue the second act in the theater production process—to bring the entire cast together, to build sets, to finalize the costume designs. Full cast rehearsals bring Arjun back into the fold and I am so happy to have a stage manager and tech crew, I could cry. Makayla and Cherish manage to convince Mrs. DiCarlo to let a handful of students paint the sets during class as an art project on modern impressionism. Fitz and Danica plan to scour thrift stores next weekend for all the metallics they can find for Fitz’s costume vision.

Slowly, the details start to come together, transforming the auditorium into Infernodelle.

The auditorium we need to sell out to impress the school committee.

It’s the final piece to focus on—and the one aspect of Melted that makes my stomach twist with uncertainty. I’m not worried about our ability to execute an incredible performance. I am terrified no one will come to see it. Tickets go on sale in two weeks. We need a strategy to get the community involved in Melted and show up the way they do for band events.

At least, we connect with an organizer at The Sunshine Project. Fifty percent of Melted’s ticket sales go to their organization, and in return they promise to blast out the details of Melted across their social channels.

So maybe that will help.

But of course, the group with the following and reputation to fill seats are the least engaged.

“It’s going to be awkward at first,” Reid admitted over break while we were watching Newsies in my basement. Yes. Actually watching. Research musical weekends are serious occasions! “There is still… um… Nationals angst. Most of the band doesn’t want to be a part of this.”

I paused the musical. “No one is forcing them to participate. It’s optional.”

Reid shrugged. “Not really. It’s the musical… or no music. And we always played for the musicals anyway. So it’s not like that’s the issue. It’s more like… the why we’re here piece.”

Reid and I sat on opposite ends of the couch for the rest of the movie.

The band entering the picture affects our dynamic as codirectors. It reminds me that Reid will always be loyal to them first and he’s only doing Melted because—like his friends—he has to. Not because he wants to. The reality check stings more than I expect it to. And it lasts, resulting in a rough week.

Monday, Reid and Henry had different visions for blocking Moritz’s death scene.

I voted Henry’s direction.

Tuesday, Reid was a rogue actor, performing Moritz’s death his way.

Wednesday, Dad suggested a key change for “In Winter” that felt unnecessary.