Mrs. Mulaney crosses her arms. “Can someone please enlighten me?”

I pull the completed proposal out of my backpack and hand it to Mrs. Mulaney. “Look. We’re using the limited resources we have to show the school committee that we don’t need a budget to create art. Inside this packet is a play, a petition, and a vision that brings all the cut arts clubs together for a charity event.”

Dad’s expression softens. “You’ve all been working together on this?”

We nod in unison.

“It’s not only us. We’ve just been leading the quiet revolution,” Danica says.

“But we’re not anti-band!” Makayla says.

“Just anti-bureaucracy,” Arjun adds.

I continue, feeling empowered by my dad’s full attention. “If HAVE A HE(ART) is approved, the school committee gets good PR and will seem invested in finding creative solutions to retain arts programs. We’ll create something fun and meaningful. It’s a win-win.”

“No.” Mrs. Mulaney pinches the bridge of her nose and takes in the set, the stage, the mess. “You never should’ve been in the auditorium without an advisor. That cannot happen again.”

“We were just trying to—” Henry starts.

Mrs. Mulaney cuts Henry off. “You were just being defiant.”

I swear Henry’s teacher-pleaser heart stops.

“First period. Now.”

We march up the aisles of the auditorium and I just cannot even. I swallow my snark. Mrs. Mulaney is more focused on our so-called defiance than literal vandalism. I mean, seriously! Paint on waxed wood should be a felony. HAVE A HE(ART) is taking a stand. It’s creating something from the ashes of our programs. Not destroying—

“Natalie,” Dad says, standing by the door and stopping me in my tracks.

We make eye contact, my dad and me. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone, my phone. It’s a small victory, the weight of my phone in my hand, plucked from my dad’s palm. Maybe for the first time ever, Dad’s recognizing his perfect protégé isn’t so perfect after all.

“Good luck tonight,” Dad says.

He has the audacity to sound hurt.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“I hope, moving forward, you and Reid can set aside whatever—”

I don’t hear the end of Dad’s sentence. I’m already gone because once again it’s got to be both sides. It’s too much to hope an anti-Reid switch will flip in Dad’s brain.

Outside the auditorium doors, I pause.

Exhale a shaky breath and press the heels of my palms against my eyes.

“Natalie?”

My eyes pop open. Of course, of course, Reid is here to witness the aftermath of his scheme.

“Are you okay?” he asks.