by Wendy Loggia
Karolyn picks up a set of nested Christmas-tree cookie cutters with crinkled edges.
“I think we need to get some bigger cookie cutters for next year. We could bake more cookies faster, and a bigger cookie means more icing.”
“True.” My thoughts float back to last night. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Charlie showed up, gave his cookies to Jacob, and disappeared.
As if she can read my mind, my sister brings him up. “So Jacob seems really nice,” Kar says, tossing the cookie cutters back into a giant bin. “And he’s hot. Do you like him?”
I shrug. “I mean, I don’t really know him.”
My sister raises a plucked blond eyebrow. “But you invited him to the cookie swap.”
“Uh, well, technically…”
“You wouldn’t invite a guy you didn’t like to the cookie swap,” she presses, folding her arms across her sweatshirt.
“No. Well…” I try to find the right words to explain how I feel about Jacob, but the truth is, I’m not really sure. My first impression of him was that he’s a sports bro who likes to goof around, tell crude jokes, and be loud. Now, though, I’m not sure that’s entirely fair. Now he’s a boy who has been in my kitchen, has had his cheeks pinched by my neighbors, and has given gingerbread men pants and chest buttons.
My sister gives me a mischievous smile. “You don’t have to explain, Bailey. It’s written all over your face.” She holds up a pair of giant googly eyes and waves them in front of me. “Like looking in a mirror, right?”
“Stop!” I hiss, feeling my cheeks start to warm. I grab the eyes and hang them back on the metal hook. Then I give her a little shove. She giggles.
I point to the exit. “We are leaving in five minutes whether you find your stupid poster board or not.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Still laughing, she finally finds the right aisle and pulls out a poster board. “I think I should get two of these just in case.”
“Yeah, because we are not coming back here anytime soon,” I say, shaking my car keys in her face. “Okay, we’ve got to go. I have to be at work in an hour.”
“Thanks for taking me,” she says after we pay and are out the sliding glass doors. “You’re the best.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, smiling at her. “And before you even ask me to help you put the presentation together, the answer is no.”
Karolyn’s face falls. “You’re so mean!”
The car doors unlock. “I’m your big sister, Kar. It’s my job.”
* * *
• • •
I’m not always the most organized person when it comes to my backpack or my room or, well, my life, but when it comes to display tables in bookstores? I can’t get enough. That’s why Victoria lets me be in charge of the round mahogany wood tables where the New Fiction and New for Kids and Teens are displayed. I take way more time than I probably should making book stacks and deciding which covers look good next to each other. Sometimes we have authors come in and sign stock, and those books get gold SIGNED COPY stickers on them. And we sell other things besides books—candles, handcrafted jewelry, greeting cards, and pottery by local artisans.
I am in the middle of straightening up the New Fiction table—my version of a workout. An added benefit of working in a bookstore: muscles. Books are heavy. After a few weeks of hauling around book tubs, carrying books in my arms from the back room, and climbing up ladders to reach the tippy-top shelves, I definitely noticed definition in my arms where there had been none before.
A familiar British voice from behind me almost makes me drop the armful of thrillers I’m holding. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
I spin around. “Oh!” I exclaim with absolutely no sense of chill. It’s Charlie. He is wearing gray corduroys with a black sweater and a dark jacket over it. His blond hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower, and he smells clean and soapy. There is a tiny cut on his chin, probably from shaving. “You…you were?”
He nods, resting his elbow on a high stack of paperbacks. “Scout’s honor. I wanted to give you this.” He reaches over and casually wraps a scarf—my scarf, the one that had blown off the night of my car accident—around my neck. It smells like what I imagined Charlie would smell like.
“Oh! Wow, yes, thank you so much,” I say. Is this actually happening? I admit it—I stare at him for about twenty seconds trying to think of something witty to say. I’m surrounded by books with words, but they’ve all left me. But he doesn’t seem fazed. Only Charlie could pull off hanging out in a bookstore, actually leaning on a pile of books like a character in a movie, and make it look cool. Not to mention he hasn’t knocked them over. “Are you feeling better?” I ask.
“Loads,” he says. “Sorry, that’s why I’m here. I want to make it up to you for not coming to your cookie party last night.”
“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head in what I hope is an Are you kidding? That’s long in the past now motion. “Totally not a big deal at all.” Then I stop. “I mean, it would have been great if you had come, but don’t worry about it. Really.” I so badly want to ask him if he’s Mystery Blond Cookie Guy. But I can’t think of a natural way to lead in to this question.
“You’re very sweet.”
No one except my grandma has ever said I’m sweet. Now I definitely can’t ask about the cookies—I’ll go from sweet to dork in a flash. I can feel my pulse start to flutter in my wrist. “That’s sweet of you to say,” I say back. Suddenly I realize I’m still holding a pile of very heavy books. I drop them onto the table with a thud.
“So, Bailey. I mean it—I do want to make it up to you. We’re supposed to get a couple inches of snow tonight. That means it will be perfect sledding weather tomorrow.” He ducks his chin and looks up at me as a lock of blond hair dips across his eyes. “Would you want to go with me?”
Is the Pope Catholic? I think, reaching my fingertips to the table for balance. “Sure, that sounds like a lot of fun,” I tell him, trying to contain myself. Then I suck in a whoosh of air. “Oh no.”
“What?” he asks.
My shoulders sink. “I totally forgot. I’m babysitting.” For the past year I’ve had a pretty steady gig babysitting the Parker kids: Adelaide, age five, and Garrett, age seven. The kids are really cute and the Parkers pay really well. Usually I babysit in the evening, but tomorrow Mr. and Mrs. Parker wanted to go Christmas shopping without the kids.
This news doesn’t seem to deter him. “Well, can you bring the kids to the park and we can all go sledding?” He smiles. “I bet they’d love it.” His teeth are extremely white. I wonder what kind of toothpaste he uses.
I think for a moment. “Um, probably?” In the past I’ve taken Adelaide and Garrett out for pizza and to the pool in the summer. The Parkers always tell me I’m their favorite babysitter. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Parker would be okay with it. “Where do you want to go?”
“The golf course has some really good hills,” he says, shrugging.
I nod. “Everyone goes there. It gets kind of wild with teenagers. For little kids I think Allen Park is better.” That’s where I always go sledding with my family.
Charlie smiles at me, little sunbeams shooting out of his dimples.
“Smashing. It’s a date, then.” He leans over and tugs on both ends of the scarf. He’s not exactly pulling me closer—but he almost is. And I like it.
“Again!” Adelaide shrieks with the piercing voice unique to kindergartners as our giant purple saucer skims to a stop, ice crystals spraying our faces. It’s a clear, cold Saturday afternoon, and between the sun and the pure-white snow, the brightness is almost blinding.
I grin down at her. Adelaide is wearing blue snow pants, a puffy pink coat, a striped hat, a matching scarf, and pink waterproof gloves that clip to her jacket. She’s very cute. “You really want to climb back up th
e hill just to slide down again?” I ask. But I already know the answer.
“Uh-huh.” Adelaide’s cheeks are rosy and she has a light dusting of snow on her eyelashes. “Let’s do it again, Bailey!”
Charlie and Garrett have barreled to a stop right next to us. Garrett gives Charlie a fist bump. “Dude, that was so cool! Did you guys see how fast we were going? That was awesome!”
We all climb to our feet, our jackets and legs covered with snow. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but so far, it has been a really fun day. Allen Park is one of the best sledding places in our town, and while it is a bit of a hike up the hill, the slide down is worth it. And the vibe here is fun—whether you want a low-key slide or a wild ride, there is a hill here for you. There are little kids, families, couples—I even saw a dog in a snow tube.
Just as Charlie predicted, we had a nice snowfall overnight, and it isn’t too icy or too slushy—it’s perfect sledding weather. The Parkers were fine with me taking the kids sledding as long as I made sure everyone dressed properly for the cold. “I hate sledding,” Mrs. Parker said to me under her breath. “You’re doing us a favor by taking them—plus they’ll be extra tired tonight. Parent win!” And I take this obligation seriously. I am not about to be responsible for anyone getting frostbite on my watch.
The truth is, though, I may have gone a little overboard. After I arrived at the Parkers’ house, it took us at least thirty minutes to get ready. Sunblock was liberally applied to all visible skin. And there isn’t much visible. Each of the kids has on a T-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, and their winter coat, along with hat, scarf, and gloves. Garrett’s snow boots fit him, but we discovered Adelaide’s were about three sizes too small. Luckily we found an old pair of Garrett’s that fit her, and while she wasn’t a fan of wearing “Garrett’s stinky old boots,” I distracted her by telling her we’d have hot chocolate afterward, and pretty soon she was clomping across the kitchen floor in her brother’s footwear like a champ.
“You make a cute snowman,” Charlie said when we arrived, lugging two giant purple saucers. He was waiting for us at the top of the hill. The park was crowded, but I spotted him right away. He is in black snow pants and a black coat, and he brought an old-fashioned wooden toboggan. “I might just have to call you Frosty.”
“Cute snowman” wasn’t exactly the look I was going for, but under the circumstances, I decided I’d take it.
“I feel like I can barely walk with all these layers,” I admitted. I have on a navy pom-pom hat and scarf. Under my puffy coat, I have two thermal tops and a polar fleece. I don’t have snow pants, but I do have on long underwear, a pair of leggings, and sweatpants, which in the past have worked okay. I hate hate hate when my feet are cold, so I have on two pairs of high wool socks and waterproof snow boots. No wonder I’m moving so stiffly.
So far we’ve been down the hill on the saucers three times. I’ve gone twice with Adelaide and once with Garrett. “I want to ride with Charlie,” Adelaide announces loudly as two kids on lunch trays fall into a tangled heap behind us.
“I already called it. I’m riding with Charlie,” Garrett tells her with the authority of an older brother. “We’re going to go faster than everyone else.”
“That’s not fair,” Adelaide says, pouting. “You’ve already gone with Charlie twice. Why do I have to get stuck with Bailey?” Then her eyes grow big. “Sorry, Bailey!”
“Please, don’t fight over me, guys,” I say, laughing. I honestly can’t blame them. While I approach the hill with a little trepidation, waiting for just the right moment to push off, and telling the kids to hold on and keep their arms and legs tucked in, I noticed that Charlie simply gets on the saucer, wraps his arms around whichever kid he’s with, and jets off.
Charlie shoots me an apologetic look, then crouches so he’s at kid level. “Okay, here’s what I think,” he says, looking from one kid to the other. “We’ll get the toboggan and I’ll ride it down with both of you guys. Sound good?”
Garrett is already running back up the hill. “Race you!” he shouts as Adelaide stomps after him.
“You’re really good with kids,” I tell Charlie as we make our way up. “Do you have siblings?”
Charlie shakes his head. “ ’Fraid not. I wish I did. How about you?”
“Older brother, younger sister,” I tell him. Charlie’s so attentive and easy to talk to, and I chatter away about Liam and Karolyn. “I’m the peacekeeper in the family,” I finish, taking a breath. “If it wasn’t for me, they’d be at each other’s throats.”
“Vital family role,” Charlie says, nodding. “One of my best mates is a middle child. He’s the most loyal friend I’ve ever had. I wish I could see him again.”
“Why can’t you?” I ask, curious.
“He’s, well, he’s still in England,” Charlie says with a tinge of sadness. “I had to say goodbye when I came here.” He pulls back his sleeve to reveal a small black tattoo of a lion. “He was a bit unwell as a child, and his mum used to call him her lionheart. It means a person who is brave and determined. That really spoke to me, and I got this so I’d never forget to be brave.”
“I love that,” I say, lightly touching the tattoo. His skin is soft and smooth. “So you grew up in England?” I ask as he pulls his sleeve back down. Each bit of information he shares makes me want to know more.
He nods. “Yorkshire. We moved to the U.S. when I was ten for Dad’s job. He works in film production. Now we’ve been here so long I’ve lost my accent.”
I laugh. “Trust me, you still have it.”
“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned.
Only for every other guy in the vicinity. “Definitely not.” I’m loving learning more about him and decide to be brave. “I wanted to ask you—are you on Instagram or Snapchat?” I leave off the part about me trying to find him there. “And, um, where do you go to school?”
He shakes his head. “I stay away from those things—I’d waste way too much time if I got on. And yeah, sorry—I go to a private school about an hour from here. Clarence Hall. It’s quite small, really.”
I’ve never heard of Clarence Hall, but I don’t really know any private schools. And while it’s hard to imagine not being on Instagram, he does have a point about wasting time. “Oh. That’s cool.”
“Well, come on, Charlie Travers. I want to slide!” Garrett complains, tugging on Charlie’s leg.
“His mom calls him Garrett Parker when she means business,” I whisper under my breath, trying not to laugh.
“Dude, say no more,” Charlie says, giving me a wink.
I watch as the three of them pile onto the toboggan and push off. Charlie is in the rear, then Garrett, and then Adelaide. Charlie is holding on to Garrett, and Garrett is holding on to Adelaide. In seconds they are a tiny speck flying down the slope.
When they get back to the top, Charlie motions to the toboggan. “You and me this time, Bailey?”
Finally! “You two stay here, and don’t talk to anyone, okay?” I say to the kids. They must be getting tired, because they don’t argue.
“They’ll be fine. Right, guys?” Charlie asks them. They nod.
“Okay, then,” I say, clomping over and sitting in the front of the sled. Charlie climbs on behind me and sits down, his long legs framing mine. I lean back against him and his chin rests against my shoulder.
“Let’s go!” he shouts, pushing off. Cold air rushes against my cheeks and tears form in my eyes. We whiz past other sliders, shrieking and whooping. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a saucer careening toward us, way, way too fast. I would scream but there isn’t enough air in my lungs. Charlie jerks hard on the rope and steers us out of the saucer’s path in the nick of time.
“Hold on,” he says in my ear, wrapping a protective arm around me to keep me from flying off the toboggan as we
skid to the left, hitting icy bumps on the hill. I can’t catch my breath and I can’t talk—all I can do is laugh hysterically. But I’m not scared. I feel completely enveloped and safe. And then as fast as it began, it’s over. We skid to an abrupt stop.
Charlie is on his feet, pulling me to mine. We need to get out of the way of the other people coming down the hill.
“Holy smokes, that was fast,” I gasp out, wiping the tears from my face. “Those people almost hit us. I think I saw my life pass before my eyes.”
Charlie stops short. He closes his eyes and seems to shake something off. Then he opens his eyes and he’s himself again. “Seriously thinking we could be in the luge at the Olympics,” Charlie says. “We’re a good team, Bailey.”
“For sure,” I tell him. We start making our way up the hill. On the sled is the closest I have physically been to Charlie. Sitting with him on the toboggan, his arm wrapped around me, had felt really nice. But something about the way he said we’re “a good team” bothers me. Is he feeling more like a brother than a boyfriend? Like a teammate? Is that why he closed his eyes? Is he thinking we’d be better off as friends instead of something more? I decide not to overthink it and just enjoy the moment…whatever it was.
I’ve had such a good time today that I haven’t really paid attention to how much energy I’ve been using. Suddenly a wave of tiredness hits me. My legs are quivery and some snow has fallen down my back, making me shiver. I shield my eyes with my gloved hand. “Is it me or does the top of the hill get a little farther away each time we slide down?”
“I think you’re right,” Charlie agrees. “Hate it when that happens.” Then he motions to the toboggan. “Hop in.”
I stop. “Are you serious?”
Charlie does a little bow. “I’m your knight in shining snow gear. At your service, milady.”