“It’ll be fine, Nat,” Henry assures me, and I want to scream. It will absolutely not be fine. The whole point of this was to do one last show, to direct something we wrote together.

Reid looks at my dad, his expression incredulous. “You’re seriously okay with this?”

Dad nods. “Since it’s a band event, I’m stepping in as advisor. We’ll use my classroom to rehearse every Monday and Wednesday. I’ll conduct too, and tie it into the band curriculum.”

“What?” I repeat.

Since it’s a band event. Wow. Codirecting with Reid is enough of a plot twist. But Mr. Jacobson—my dad—calling our proposal, my show, a band event. It’s too much.

“It’s a perfect compromise,” Mrs. Mulaney says. “Everyone can work toward the common goal of putting together Melted: The Musical. I am already imagining some of these scenes as musical numbers.”

“I mean, it’s based on Frozen,” Fitz says.

“Exactly!” Mrs. Mulaney latches onto the agreement, not willing to let in any more drama today. “Also, the school committee will be in the audience, assessing the execution. Next year’s budget could very much depend on the success of this event.”

I swallow. “Define ‘success.’ ”

“A sold-out audience. Local media attention wouldn’t hurt either. Think of this as an opportunity to prove how your art adds value to this community.”

Mrs. Mulaney’s delivery is so casual, I have to laugh. Adds value? We’re students.

I see so many pizza bagels in my future.

We’re dismissed and Henry bolts from the room first, unwilling to miss too much of AP Lit even in the middle of total drama catastrophe. Everyone else exits the office, dazed, while Dad, Reid, and I stare at one another for a four-bar rest.

Dad smiles at me. “Well, congratulations, Natalie. Melted is happening.”

“I played a few harmless pranks. You ruined an entire concert! How did this even become my problem?” Reid asks.

“You’ll want it on your resume, Reid. We’re not going to D.C. this year.”

Reid and I react in unison. “What?”

Every year, the band ranks high enough to perform at Nationals in Washington D.C.

“Melted is coming out of the band’s budget and there is no way we can afford both. We crunched some numbers—and ultimately, Melted’s costs are low and revenue potential is high. Funding an out-of-state trip in a way that makes out-of-pocket costs affordable is pretty much the opposite. So this semester we focus on Melted and on delivering a great show… and then recalibrate for the local festival circuit in the spring.”

“Wow. Okay. You really do win after all, Natalie,” Reid says.

“This isn’t winning,” I insist.

Dad scratches his beard. “Can’t you try to be open-minded?”

“About you turning Melted into a band thing?”