by Lee Matthews
“But it’s not like he could have gone skiing with all of you. His leg is broken,” my mother said indignantly.
“Yes! Thank you! That’s what I said!” I felt a little giddy over vibing with my mother. It had been a long time since we’d had a conversation like this. One that wasn’t all tangled up with negative emotions about her and my dad breaking up. Maybe my parents had done the right thing sending me and Lauren away for the week. Maybe being physically farther apart was somehow bringing us closer.
“Anyway, I saw his parents this morning, and they said he’d left. He’s going to spend the rest of his break at his cousins’ house,” I finished, staring up at the ceiling. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her about the lawsuit, and how that complicated everything. “So…so much for that.”
“You don’t think it’s because of you, do you, honey?” my mom asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, we have this big fight and then he’s gone? If it’s not about me, it seems kind of like a big coincidence.”
“Well, I have to say I like the sound of this list,” my mom told me. “You should get out of your comfort zone every once in a while.”
I rolled my eyes, so not surprised that she liked the idea of the list. My mother was always after me to be more adventurous. To try out for the soccer team or go out for the school play. To meet new people. To be more like Lauren. Even to get back on my skateboard. Is that all my list was to her? A sign that I was going to become more like her favorite daughter? I bet she was psyched about that.
“Whatever happens with Christopher, you should keep chipping away at your list,” she told me. “Don’t let some boy and what he wants or doesn’t want derail you from living your life.”
Her voice sounded oddly bitter as she said this, and her words seemed to hang in the air around me. My fingers and toes tingled, and not in a good way. I clutched the phone a bit tighter, waiting for her to break the silence that had suddenly descended. When she didn’t, I asked, in a small voice, “Mom…is that how you feel about Dad? Do you feel like he derailed your life?”
Please say no, I thought. Because if that’s what she thought, didn’t that mean that Lauren and I were part of that…derailment? That we were the result of some train wreck?
I knew my mom had moved away from her family and given up her job when my dad had been moved by the company to Philadelphia, right around when Lauren was born. She’d been working as a low-level assistant at some fashion company in New York that no longer even existed. But had she had dreams of a career in fashion? Did she regret letting my dad’s job take over their lives?
How had I never asked her about any of this before? Suddenly I felt both very selfish and very scared. What if my mom hated our life together, and that’s why she was breaking it all up?
“It’s more complicated than that, Tess,” she said finally. “Your dad and I…we both made decisions, apart and together, that got us to where we are. But I do sometimes wish that I’d spoken up for myself more when I was younger. That I’d understood that the things I wanted weren’t frivolous or less important.” She took a breath. “Tess, the things you want…they matter. They matter more than you know. So I say finish this list. Prove to yourself that you can do it. It could change everything.”
I sat up straight on the bed, a steely resolve coming over me. She was right. This wasn’t about Christopher. It was about me. Even if that did sound selfish. I had to finish my list. And I only had a day and a half to do it.
“Okay, Mom. I’ll do my best.”
* * *
• • •
There was one item on my list that had to happen today. Get Adam Michel’s autograph. His book signing was at The Little Bookshop in town at two o’clock, and it was already pushing noon. I needed to find a way to get into town ASAP. If I knew Adam Michel’s fans, and I was pretty sure I knew them well, as I’d been one of them almost my entire life, I knew they were already lined up to meet him. I texted Lauren.
WHERE ARE YOU? I need a ride into town.
Then I paced the room for ten minutes waiting for her to respond. No dice. I thought about going to find Loretta. But she’d been so pissed at me yesterday and, to be honest, I was still pissed at her for treating me like a baby. Besides, I was sure she was insanely busy, either dealing with lawyers or even just getting the staff ready for tomorrow night’s New Year’s Eve celebrations. I didn’t want to bother her.
I glanced at the calendar she’d left for us on our first day here. There was a gingerbread house competition today, and it was marked as mandatory on our schedules. I paused, wondering if Lauren had any intention of showing up for that.
The thought made me laugh out loud.
I looked at my phone again. The last text I had was from Carina. I didn’t think she was old enough to drive, but however I got to town, I was going to need a wingman. There was no way I was going to get up the guts to talk to Adam Michel on my own. Besides, if there was a long line to get my book signed, I’d need someone to talk to. I texted her back.
Hey! I’m fine. Where are you?
She wrote back right away.
Cafe. Reading.
Be right there.
I grabbed my backpack and headed back downstairs. Carina was sitting in one of the deep chairs by the window at the Best Bean, her feet up on the coffee table in front of her. I glanced over at the counter and was relieved to see that Damon wasn’t working. I didn’t want to get into last night’s party and why I wasn’t there. And I definitely didn’t want to talk about Christopher or whether Damon was worried about losing his job.
“Hey!” Carina said, closing her book as I arrived. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing today?” I asked.
“Not much. Why?”
“I need to go get Adam Michel’s autograph. Do you want to come?”
“Adam Michel?” She seemed to freeze. Her hand went to her book, which she’d laid aside on the chair, and she clutched it almost like it was a security blanket. “What do you mean you need to get his autograph?” she said. “Why are you asking me?”
I sat down in the chair across from hers and opened my backpack. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but I made a list of ten things I have to do before the new year, and getting Adam Michel’s autograph is on it. My sister found out he’s going to be signing copies of his new autobiography in town today, and so I need to go.”
I pulled out the laminated list and handed it over to her.
“Tess’s New Year’s Bucket List,” she read, then gasped and looked at me. “You’re not dying, are you?”
“No!” I said with a laugh. “Nothing like that.”
Carina narrowed her eyes as she scanned the ten items and the various check marks. I felt like I was completely exposed, suddenly. Like she was either going to laugh at me for being such a dork or tell me I was insane. But instead, she lay the list down on her lap and looked at me.
“There’s a date on this. You made it a couple of days before we met.”
“Yeah.” I felt a beat of apprehension. Why was she being so weird about this?
“So…you really don’t know who I am?”
“I…what? Who are you?”
Carina smiled slowly, and her smile reminded me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Disturbing, but also intriguing. “Oh, this is going to be such fun.”
* * *
• • •
Ten minutes later, Carina and I were in a sleek black car being whisked into town by someone named Phil, who kept calling her Miss. I felt a little bit like I’d just stepped into a movie and was either going to be kidnapped and held for ransom on a speeding train somewhere, or taken to the nearest posh city for a ridiculous makeover. Whenever I tried to ask Carina a question, she changed the subject, and before I knew it, we were pulling up i
n front of The Little Bookshop, where there was—as predicted—a line of rabid fans three deep and two blocks long waiting outside in the frigid cold. Half of them were wearing Adam Michel tour T-shirts, or had their hair teased and spiked up in Adam’s preferred style. I suddenly felt kind of lame in my favorite comfy outfit.
“Is this all right, Miss?” Phil asked.
“This is perfect, Phil, thanks.” Carina texted rapidly on her phone as I stared out the window.
“Ugh, it’s too late,” I said. “There’s no way I’m ever getting to the front of this line. I bet these people got here at ten this morning.”
“Some of them actually camped overnight,” Carina said. She glanced at her phone as a text came in. “Okay. Let’s go. Phil, we’ll be back in, like, ten minutes unless I text you.”
“Sounds good, Miss. I’ll just circle the block for a bit.”
“Ten minutes?” I said. Was she out of her mind? Did she not see the line? “What’re you—”
But Carina had already opened the door of the car. Everyone on line near us turned to look, as if expecting someone famous to be stepping out, and a few of them actually did gasp when they saw us. What the heck was happening? Carina slipped on a pair of sunglasses and looked at the open door, where the line was snaking through. A woman with a short blond haircut and an earpiece in her ear popped her head out, smiled, and waved us forward.
Carina took my arm. “Just stay close.”
“Okay, who are you?” I demanded as she pulled me across the sidewalk and past the eager fans. Some of them yelled at us and cursed as we slipped past them into the store. Others actually used their phones to take our picture.
“Carina! I’m so glad you’re here. He’ll be so excited you decided to come,” the blond woman said to Carina as she led us through the shop.
“I’m really here more for Tess,” Carina said. “Tess, this is Faith. She’s Adam Michel’s personal publicist. Faith, meet my friend Tess.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tess,” Faith said. “And thank you for getting Carina down here.”
I stared at Carina’s profile, but she refused to look at me. Suspicions were starting to eat away at the back of my skull, but none seemed able to form themselves into a coherent thought.
The line went right down the center aisle of the small store, ending at a table in the back where Adam Michel himself sat, smiling up at a fan as he signed her book. I almost tripped at the sight of him, my breath catching in my throat, and forgot all about the Carina weirdness. It was really him. Adam Michel. Sitting not five feet away from where I was standing. His dark hair was spiked up in front, and he wore a black leather jacket and his dozens of signature necklaces. His black eyeliner was perfectly applied, and his fingernails were painted a deep purple. I’d had this man’s poster on my wall since I was in third grade and had seen him perform on a zillion different awards shows on TV. I couldn’t believe I was now breathing the same air as him.
Faith left us near the corner of the table and slid behind it, leaning down toward Adam’s ear from behind his shoulder.
“Adam!” she said quietly as he handed over the book. “Look who’s here.”
He looked up, and his whole face lit up. “Carina! Sweetheart!”
Carina smiled. “Hi, Daddy.”
* * *
• • •
So. I got Adam Michel’s autograph. And a half dozen pictures with him. And then we all had lunch together in the back room of the bookstore after he was done signing about three hundred books. I found out he doesn’t drink soda, because he thinks it’s poison. That all the rumors about him having a foul mouth were untrue. And that he had a daughter my age whose last name was Granger (Michel was a stage name), who he’d mostly kept secret, until it had leaked a few weeks ago on some gossip site along with a picture of the two of them swimming in St. Bart’s. I had somehow missed this, but it was the reason Carina hadn’t wanted to come to the bookstore. She’d always tried to stay out of the spotlight, and didn’t want to lose her right to privacy now.
But she’d made this one appearance. For me.
“Thank you,” I told her as Phil drove us back to the Lodge. “I really can’t thank you enough.”
“It was my pleasure, honestly. Also, it made him happy, so it’s a win-win.”
I couldn’t believe I’d met Adam Michel. I couldn’t believe I was now friends with Adam Michel’s daughter. Lauren was going to lose her mind over missing this, and Christopher was going to freak out when I showed him the list.
My heart thunked. Christopher.
I took out my phone. Maybe this was the way to get through to him. To show him I was still working on the list. Would it hurt his feelings, though, to know I was doing it without him?
I thought of my mom and remembered. This wasn’t about him. But I still missed him. I didn’t want him to think back on this whole thing and hate me, either. I texted him.
Missed you today. Hope you’re having fun at your cousins’.
I put the phone facedown in my lap and counted to one hundred. When I looked at it again, my face flushed. No response. Normally, this wouldn’t upset me much, because I don’t necessarily expect everyone in the world to be looking at their phone twenty-four seven. But I knew Christopher was. He had almost nothing else to do with his time.
And suddenly, I wanted him to know that I was still on my mission, with or without his help. I wanted to show him that he hadn’t derailed me.
I scrolled through my photos and found a shot of me and Adam holding up his book and sent it to Christopher.
#7 Complete! Wish you were here!
I didn’t care whether or not he’d think that last comment was sarcastic. Really I didn’t. This time I put my phone away, refusing to watch for a response. One more item down, only four more to go.
TESS’S NEW YEAR’S BUCKET LIST
Make a paper airplane that actually flies (20 seconds at least) ✓
Sing in public ✓
Strike up a conversation with a stranger ✓
Wear high heels outside the house ✓
Make out with a guy whose last name I don’t know (???)
TP someone’s house
Get Adam Michel’s autograph ✓
Get a short, stylish haircut
Ski a black diamond slope ✓
Eat sushi
I went to the gingerbread house–building contest, hoping to see Loretta. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. And that she didn’t entirely hate me. It wasn’t like her not to get in touch for the whole morning, and I was starting to worry. Maybe this lawsuit thing was eating away at her. Maybe it was even more serious than I feared. Besides, after meeting my idol and getting more than halfway done with my list, I was feeling magnanimous. I could do this for Loretta. Maybe it would even cheer her up. Maybe it would even help the two of us make up.
The competition started at three o’clock, and we were home from the bookstore in plenty of time. I texted Lauren first in an attempt to guilt her into meeting me there, but she did not respond. Carina, however, was surprisingly excited about the prospect.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said, clapping her hands giddily as we walked into the spice-scented meeting room. “Being a rock star’s daughter doesn’t leave a lot of time for traditional projects like this. Most Christmases we didn’t even have a tree.”
“That’s so not cool. Not even on the tour bus? A little fake one?”
She shook her head. “My dad did have one tattooed onto his leg one year when I complained, though. Said we’d never be without one again. Does that count?” She raised an eyebrow at me, and I laughed. “Anyway, thanks for bringing me here. It’s so cool!”
I had to agree. Little stations had been set up ar
ound a half dozen tables, each with the pieces for constructing a modest-sized house, along with bowls and bowls of colorful candies to use in decorating. I saw bags of multicolored frosting at each chair as well, and remembered how my dad used to like to squirt it directly into his mouth, making it difficult to get any sort of cohesive design scheme going. It was a fun memory, but it also might be nice to build a gingerbread house without having someone there to eat the possibilities.
“I don’t see Loretta, though,” Carina added, rising up on her toes to search the room.
She was right. My grandmother was nowhere to be found. A few aproned lodge workers were corralling the guests, showing them to their stations and helping them get started, but Loretta was not among them.
“Maybe she’s running late,” I said, glancing at my phone. Still nothing from Lauren. Or Christopher for that matter. “Come on. Let’s grab seats.”
We took two chairs next to each other at a relatively empty table, and I showed Carina how to use the white royal icing to cement the walls of her gingerbread house together. While we were working, I noticed that Damon was one of the worker bees roaming the room, stopping to help whenever someone flagged him down. He caught my eye and smiled, and I smiled tentatively back. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about Damon at this point. I wondered what he would say if I asked him point-blank what had happened with Christopher. Was it odd that he hadn’t brought it up, considering he knew that Christopher and I were friends? Did he even know about the lawsuit?
“Hey! How’re my two favorite ski bunnies?” Damon asked, stepping up behind our chairs.
Carina and I exchanged a look. “What is this, the nineteen seventies?” Carina said. “You can’t call girls that.”