Henry exhales restless energy and pushes his clear plastic frames up the bridge of his nose before taking his own phone out of his pocket. He runs his fingers through black hair as he scrolls automatically through his phone. It sticks up in every direction, like he didn’t bother to brush it. Pillow Pet hair, we call it, since his sleepover pillow of choice when we were kids was Ribbit the frog, which always left his longer-on-top style extra tall the next morning. That’s how long Henry has been my best friend—since the era of Pillow Pets.

“She’ll be here. Hey—” I pat the empty bench space beside me “—let’s do a run-through?”

Henry takes a seat. “It’s perfect, Nat. You nail it every time.”

“I’m caught up in the fundraising logistics.”

“You are absolutely full of shit.”

But despite this, Henry presses his back against the wall, exhales, and begins.

“Thank you so much for meeting with us, Mrs. Mulaney. We know budget cuts are difficult to navigate. That being said, we—Natalie, Fitz, me, and every member of the drama club—have worked all summer to find a solution that cuts the budget without cutting the club entirely.”

I jump in. “We made a checklist of all of the costs associated with producing a school play—and learned the biggest barrier isn’t production costs. It’s licensing fees. Over some emergency dumplings, the entire Lincoln High School drama program put their heads together and came up with something unique and original… but most importantly, something free. Melted.”

Henry stands. “And now we’re at Fitz’s part. We can’t even rehearse without—”

I grab his wrist and pull him back down to the bench. “I was going to be Fitz.”

“You should’ve said that before we started.”

“Okay, well, I’m saying it now. Let’s start over. Maybe this time, don’t begin with the whole we know budget cuts are hard disclaimer?”

Henry frowns. “But they are.”

“Right. But I think stating it gives Mrs. Mulaney an auto-out.”

“Okay. Fair.” Henry nods and we rehearse the first part again. He takes my note and the introduction flows more naturally this time, leading me right into the Fitz portion of the presentation.

“Melted is the story of sisters Adina and Emma and a world where everything is on fire. It’s part sister story, part an incisive commentary on the climate crisis, and loosely inspired by Frozen. Classic theater productions like we’ve performed in the past have their place, but didn’t resonate with the student body and contributed to lower audience turnout. Melted solves the licensing problem and revitalizes audience engagement. I mean, who wouldn’t want to see a Frozen opposite play? It’s a show written by us, for us.”

“We’ll keep production costs low with homemade costumes and set design,” Henry adds.