‘Before Saturday?’ Milo asked.

Harper hesitated. Brightline’s polished attraction would open on Saturday. The children wanted to present their version first, or at least at the same time, before an audience assumed their story was the copied one.

‘It’s Thursday,’ Harper said. ‘We have less than two days.’

‘We had a year to make the first one,’ Ari replied. ‘Most of it is already inside our heads.’

The other brother, Ben, pulled a flattened dragon jaw from his bag. ‘And some of it is in a lot of bags.’

They laughed. Harper did too, then stopped as a question formed.

‘What do you want the audience to know about the other show?’

Sachi considered. ‘That they made something pretty, but it isn’t what we meant.’

‘And that our names aren’t decorations,’ Nell added.

Milo moved three buttons into a row. ‘And that this is not a fight between two shows. We want to perform the one we made.’

They voted to attempt a new production. Then they divided responsibilities. Three children would build missing scenery. Two would rewrite scene transitions. Sachi volunteered to coordinate the shadow lights. Harper would find a venue and supervise construction. Odessa offered transport and snacks, then asked whether anyone objected to her helping after what she had done. Nell said she could carry boxes, provided she did not make any more dramatic protests.

It was a small joke, and Odessa looked grateful for it. Harper remained cautious. Forgiveness was not a prop that could be pulled onstage whenever the story needed a happy scene.

After the children left, the librarian, Mr. Ko, approached Harper. He was a patient man with a magnificent white mustache and a habit of carrying a notebook in his shirt pocket.

‘Our meeting room is free on Saturday,’ he said. ‘Seats forty.’

‘The children’s stage needs more room.’

‘What about the covered market arcade?’

‘It’s booked for a craft sale.’

‘You could speak with the vendors. They might enjoy a little theater.’

Harper pictured the long arcade with its stone pillars and broad roof. It had no curtains, no fixed stage, and unpredictable daylight. But it could hold two hundred people without anyone paying admission.

Mr. Ko saw her thinking. ‘Sometimes the proper venue is the one that welcomes the people who need it.’

Harper thanked him and began calling vendors. By six, five had agreed to move their tables. Two refused. One offered an extension cord. Another told her Brightline had purchased exclusive use of the arcade on Saturday for promotional photographs.

‘Exclusive use?’ Harper repeated.

‘Apparently,’ said the vendor. ‘Somebody from Brightline paid the market manager to keep the main aisle clear.’