“You can’t just play the keys for now?” I ask.

Dad shakes his head. “I can teach piano, but I’m out of practice. You can always tell when a musician is playing an instrument that isn’t their first love.”

“Right.” That’s one of Dad’s favorite lines, and I remember the first time he said that to me in his studio. In retrospect, I wonder how early he picked up on the truth of the clarinet not being my first love. That I wasn’t there for the music—so much as for the conversations we got to have about music. Together.

“Anyway—” Dad crosses the threshold to my room and sits in my desk chair, spinning toward me “—we need to talk about the reed situation.”

Damn. I thought I was off the hook.

“Which one?” I ask.

“Ha.” Dad deadpans, his expression Not Amused. “I’m not sure what’s going on between you two. Because Switzerland. But Natalie, what seems like a silly prank can derail an entire class period. You know how technically intricate the Stars Wars score is. The festival is next weekend. Every rehearsal matters. Next time, I’ll have to write you up.”

I make eye contact with my dad and call his bluff. “Okay.”

“Is this about Melted? Every artist faces rejection. There are productive ways to—”

“Not an artist,” I mutter under my breath.

“Melted can’t be a school event. But what if you pivot? Film and post it… online?”

I shake my head, frustrated that once again I am living a scene that is Aaron Jacobson totally missing the point! “That won’t work. Theater is meant to be experienced live.”

“I’m just trying to help—”

I put in my earbuds and play my favorite theater production podcast to cut him off.

It does the trick.

Dad exhales and stands. “Goodnight, Natalie.”

He backs off, whether he wants to or not. Either way, I’m glad he’s gone. Dad loves to tell me how I’m supposed to feel, but never, not once, asks how I actually feel. Key distinction. It’s why I haven’t told him about HAVE A HE(ART) and our plans. He attends school committee meetings to advocate for the band. If he knew what we’re planning, he’d shut it down so fast.

At first, I’m frustrated with my dad. Then I’m frustrated for being frustrated at all.

Whatever.

Next week, Dad will finally hear me.

CHAPTER EIGHT