“I love the passion everyone is bringing here,” Dad says. He draws a line down the center of the board and writes “MORITZ” on one side and “MORITZ” on the other. “So let’s work through this. Why keep Moritz?”

Dad holds out the marker and we all take turns listing our reasons to keep or cut Moritz.

I become more protective with each new point added to the MORITZ column.

“You can’t cut Moritz on the basis of wanting more banter!”

Danica’s turquoise fingers drum against her arms. “Excuse me for knowing my strengths.”

“The evil trash people ensemble makes sense,” Fitz relents.

“What if we killed Moritz at the end of act one?” Henry suggests. “We’re destroying ourselves. It’s symbolic. It’s a comp—”

“No!” I exclaim. Evil trash people make sense? Kill off our villain? Nothing makes sense. “We are so far past the point of character development. So can we please just… unveil the songs like planned and stay in our lanes?”

Dad clears his throat. “Natalie. Cool it with the dramatics.”

His tone is harsh.

It pulls me out of my panic-induced spiral.

At school, Dad’s cool teacher demeanor is strong. But the way he says my name? It’s parental. It indicates another conversation to come. It’s further proof that no matter how many times Aaron Jacobson feigns neutrality with his Switzerland and pro/con lists, that is never the reality. It doesn’t matter the subject.

Also? I’m not dramatic. I’m protective.

Fitz’s blue mascaraed eyes connect with mine. “Natalie, I love your script, but this change feels right. For a musical. You know?”

“We always struggled with Moritz,” Henry admits.

“I felt that,” Reid says. “On the page. His voice fell flat compared to the rest of the cast.”

“Since when are you an expert on voice?” I ask.

“I know good writing when I read it,” Reid retorts.

“Well, I know a bad Melted decision when I hear it.”

Danica’s eye roll is scathing. “Really? Because it’s four against one. And what we need are directors who don’t argue over every creative decision. Also, this isn’t even about Melted. I can’t tell if you legitimately hate each other or secretly want to kiss each other’s faces but whatever this—” Danica waves at Reid and me “—is? It is embarrassing. I am embarrassed for you. Stop. In case you forgot, there are actual stakes.”

Reid is silent.