Everyone is more or less unfazed by Reid’s suggestion. Fitz continues sketching costumes in her notebook, her eyebrows pinched together, focused. Henry scrolls through his phone and Danica punches numbers into her graphing calculator. Even Dad is in his own zone, grading quizzes on the chromatic scale at his desk. I know Reid and I have a reputation of our meetings devolving into unproductive bickering—but this is serious! This is beyond a key signature, a botched lyric, or shooting down the notion of Reid turning Melted: The Musical into a full ninety-minute opera.

“Infernodelle didn’t randomly start over-burning,” I say. “Your suggestion… implies that climate change is inevitable. It’s not.”

“Obviously that’s true,” Reid says. “But we can take creative liberties with Infernodelle.”

In my peripheral vision, Dad raises his eyebrows, an indication that more unsolicited feedback is incoming.

“You can’t take creative liberties that impact the message,” I insist.

“Natalie has a point,” Henry says, looking up from his phone.

“Thank you!”

It’s the most Melted interaction Henry and I have had in weeks. He shows up to every after-school meeting, but he tends to multitask with homework, never all that present. Until now.

Danica’s eyes widen and she raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, like she had a light bulb moment. “What if instead of one lead character who represents humanity… we use the ensemble instead?”

“I love that.” Reid removes the pencil behind his ear. “We can convey how multiple small actions crescendo over time into irreversible damage. That’s it. We make ‘In Winter’ darker.”

Fitz stops sketching. Danica lights up at Reid’s enthusiasm.

Henry shakes his head. “Can’t we enhance the ensemble without losing Moritz?”

“Then the symbolism of the ensemble is less obvious,” Danica says.

No.

The plan has always been to adapt the script that Henry and I wrote.

Not delete characters or change plot points.

Henry swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t know. I’m with Natalie. I can’t support the musical direction if it’s going to change the heart of our show. Is there a way we can meet—”

“Melted doesn’t work without Moritz,” I reiterate.

“—in the middle?” Henry finishes.

I blink, processing the concept of meeting in the middle with Reid. I don’t know why I’m surprised. While maybe Henry would outright object to a Reid idea, there’s no way he’s going to object to a Danica one.

Danica shrugs. “It works. It’d also give Emma’s relationship with Kris more time to breathe in the second act.”

“We’re adapting. Not rewriting,” I declare.

Reid runs his hand through his hair. “You’re too invested in the play.”

“I think so too,” Danica agrees. “It’s a musical now.”

Dad stands and walks up to his whiteboard and reaches for a green dry erase marker.