“One good night isn’t going to save the store.” Her mom glowered at him.
“But it helps,” Elena said. “And doesn’t it prove that we can survive if we try doing some new things once in a while? People loved the event.”
“Trying new things.” Her mom cleared her throat.
Ignoring his wife, her dad said, “They loved it this one time. We can’t do special events every week. People wouldn’t come.”
“So, what now?” said Elena. Panic settled into her bones and cold crept up her limbs. What did any of this mean?
“Patti gave me and your mom a loan to get us back on our feet.” Her dad reached over to grab his wife’s knee, but she scooted away. “We’re going to get new jobs. We’re going to start over.”
“Maybe even in a new town,” her mom said with a hint of scorn.
“We’ve been here for so long.” Her dad shot his wife a warning glance.
“Are we moving?” Elena said through clenched teeth. Here they were again, making decisions without including her.
“Nothing’s been decided yet, honey.”
“We’ve been running the store for twenty years,” her dad said. “We never got to take vacations or even go away for a weekend. We’ve been chained to that place. We’re kind of looking forward to exploring new options.”
“You are,” her mom muttered.
Her dad ignored this. “Your aunt has a job for me at her company in Wisconsin.”
Elena knew her dad was trying to make her feel better, to turn this whole situation into a positive, but she was nowhere near ready for that. They were screwing her. She was the one who’d tried to keep the store going, to bring in new business. She was the one who had to give up her school trip and quit the track team. She was the one who was going to have to take out a billion-dollar loan to pay for college and who might have to leave her school before her senior year.
Her dad grinned like this was the greatest news in the history of the world. “This is such a fantastic opportunity for us. It’s an adventure.”
“Yeah. An adventure.” An adventure Elena had no desire to embark upon. She held up her phone. “I’ve gotta call Harper.” She dashed up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time.
When she was alone in her room, however, she didn’t call Harper. It wasn’t that Harper wouldn’t understand, but…no. That was kind of it. Harper’s family was loaded. She couldn’t fathom worrying about money or her dad’s business closing or any of that. In Harper’s world, everything was always okay, even when it wasn’t. Things unfailingly worked out in the end. Elena didn’t need sunshine right now.
She opened up her Stash Grab app and messaged the one person in her life she could talk to freely right now. She wrote Stashiuk4Prez. “My parents are selling their business, and I probably have to move to Wisconsin.”
“Shit,” he wrote back right away.
“Yeah. We’re both having a pretty bad night, aren’t we?” Tears stung Elena’s eyes.
“Messaging you has made it a bit less terrible,” he responded.
A tear rolled down Elena’s cheek. Chatting with her enemy was exactly what she needed right now. Only Oliver understood what she was going through at the moment—his parents were messing up his life as much as Elena’s were screwing with hers. “You know what?” she told him. “You’re right.”
…
Oliver messaged proud_hoser once more on his walk home from school Tuesday afternoon. “I will try watching Gilmore Girls, but no promises.”
“You’re gonna love it, don’t worry,” she replied, with a winky-face.
Ever since they’d opened up about their respective family problems, Oliver and proud_hoser had been messaging each other with more urgency and more frequency. They were on borrowed time now. His family was in flux; hers was about to move out of state.
“And you have to promise me you’ll check out Black Mirror,” he said.
“It’s a deal.”
He hesitated a moment, then wrote, “And maybe, after the dance on Friday, we can watch this stuff together some time.” The fact that the two of them had plans to meet at the Valentine’s dance this week was one topic they avoided. Oliver wasn’t sure why proud_hoser never brought it up, but he felt superstitious discussing the whole thing. Like, if he mentioned the dance, maybe she’d take that as her cue to back out. It didn’t seem too implausible. Oliver was already up half the night worried about meeting her, worried about all the potential disasters that could destroy their fragile relationship, or whatever this was.
His most potent nightmare: that Regina and proud_hoser were the same person, and she had fabricated this entire identity for the sole purpose of messing with Oliver.
In response to his suggestion that they Netflix and chill together sometime, proud_hoser sent him a smiley face, which Oliver took at face value.
He’d spent the past two days at school trying to figure out who might be behind the proud_hoser account. The biggest clue he had so far was that her family owned a business in town, one they were about to sell. There was Dottie, whose family owned the bakery. Gretchen Ludlum’s dad owned the grocery store. Katie Murphy’s parents owned the gun shop.
And, of course, there was Elena Chestnut.
But Oliver banished that unpleasant notion to the outer fringes of his mind.
When Oliver got home, he discovered his dad curled up on one of the loveseats in the living room, sleeping in the middle of the afternoon, with a fire blazing in the hearth. Almost an entire ream of paper and several empty cans of Michelob Golden Lite were strewn across the table in front of him. Oliver recycled the cans. His dad wasn’t usually a big drinker, especially not alone during the day.
With a knotted stomach, Oliver started stacking the papers, figuring they were divorce papers for his dad to sign. But the header on page one caught his eye.
It said “Plan for Prince’s and Chestnut’s,” and there was a neon pink Post-It in the top right corner. “Please read this, Trip,” the note begged. “I think my idea could really work. If you get on board, then we only need to convince Tom. Ha-ha. Sincerely, Emily.”
Emily. Emily Chestnut, the woman who used to be engaged to Oliver’s father.
But this wasn’t a romantic proposition. It was all business.
Standing there in the living room, Oliver read through Mrs. Chestnut’s plan. The idea was an interesting one—a collaboration between the two stores, but with a hint of independence built in. Chestnut’s would carry the fall and winter sports in their store, Prince’s would take care of spring and summer. They’d work as a team—sharing customers, profits, and employees. It’d solve the problem of both shops being too small to handle the inventory. She suggested bringing the stores into the new century with a website capable of handling sales. Oliver started developing the site in his head. The one Prince’s had now was from ten years ago, when someone forced his grandfather to buy a domain, and it was basically just a parking lot.
Mrs. Chestnut painted a picture of what it would be like—Chestnut’s would be busy in the winter, while Prince’s would thrive in the summer. They could host events with athletes and do demonstrations—how to tie survival knots, how to care for your snowboard, how to properly chip out of a sand trap. As she pointed out in her plan, part of the problem with the non-specialty megastores like Wal-Mart was the lack of expertise available in shop. Prince’s and Chestnut’s, with the help of some of the more athletically inclined townies, could provide that level of help and know-how.
“What are you doing?” Oliver’s dad barked.
Oliver hid the papers behind his back and faced his father, who was now upright and rubbing his temples. “Cleaning up.”
Trip held out a hand. “Give me that.”
Oliver shrugged, but held onto the stack. “It’s an interesting idea. We’ve been fighting Chestnut’s for so long, competing for the same customers. Maybe teaming up isn’t the worst idea.” He remembered the photos of his dad and Mr. Chestnut
in the album inside Prince’s office. They had been friends since childhood. Emily Chestnut was set on rekindling that friendship and helping both stores, not seducing Oliver’s dad. “It’s not like Prince’s has been doing that well.”
“It’s moot,” said Trip, standing and beckoning again for the papers. “I’m closing the store.”
“What? What do you mean ‘closing the store’? What would you do instead?” With the money his dad had made from selling the restaurants down in Florida, he could do whatever he wanted. He could open a new restaurant here. He could become a ski bum.
“I’ve been thinking.” Trip paced in front of the fireplace. “Maybe the problem is North Pole. Maybe it was a mistake to move here.”
“No,” Oliver said right away. “It wasn’t a mistake. It’s been great, actually. Regina and I have made new friends. We like it here.” proud_hoser was here.
Trip laughed. “Your mom wants a divorce. The business isn’t doing so great. We’re stuck in an icy tundra. Mistake, mistake, mistake.”
Oliver couldn’t argue with that last point about the cold. “But you always wanted to take over your dad’s store. It was your dream. You had to go after your dream.”
“Yeah, but that’s not going well, is it? You’ve been working there. You see how slow it’s been.”
“It’s February. It’ll pick up as the weather gets warmer.” It was the ebb and flow of life in North Pole. They were in the lull right now, the dead of winter, before spring and the summer vacationers. “People hibernate this time of year.”
“Maybe,” said his dad. “But they’re still running around playing your game. They’re just not coming into the store to buy stuff.”
“They will,” said Oliver. He shook the papers in front of his dad’s face. North Pole was much closer to Wisconsin than Florida was. Oliver was not going to move back to the southeastern tip of the country now, not when things were just starting to heat up between him and proud_hoser. He was even willing to team up with Elena Chestnut and her family. These were desperate times. “And this could be the solution.”
“I failed.” Trip picked up an empty beer can Oliver had missed and tilted it toward his mouth. A few drops dribbled past his lips. “I ruined the business my family spent decades building. I never saw this coming. I’ve never failed at anything.”
“You still haven’t,” Oliver said.
“And your mom…we were doing so well before this whole Minnesota thing.”
“No, you weren’t,” said Oliver. He clenched his fists, incredulous that he was about to insert himself into someone else’s business, but his dad was not thinking straight. “The divorce is a positive thing, Dad. For everyone. Maybe I’m a pragmatic, unfeeling robot for seeing that, but it’s true.”
“I’m going to close the store,” his dad announced.
“No, Dad. Don’t make any rash—”
“It’s for the good of the family and the good of the town. I’m going to bow out, let the Chestnuts have a monopoly on sporting goods in North Pole. If Emily wants it, she can have it.”
“But what does that mean for—”
“We’re going to move back to Florida to be a family again,” said Trip, standing up. “It’s the right thing to do.” He snatched Mrs. Chestnut’s papers from Oliver’s clutches and tossed them into the fire. Oliver stood rooted to the floor and watched his future in North Pole burn.
Chapter Eleven
“You guys, you guys, you guys! We are in the home stretch of Stash Grab, and you’re sitting here in Santabucks studying Latin!” Harper danced around the table where Elena and Oliver were trying to study.
“He has a big test on Friday,” said Elena. “I need to help him pass it.” Elena shot him a quick smile and focused on Harper again. This was their first study session since Oliver had stormed out of Harper’s basement on Sunday. Elena thanked the universe for Harper’s presence, because her mind and body were a clutter of confusion. She had just spent the past three days messaging Stashiuk4Prez more than ever and about increasingly personal stuff, knowing the whole time that the guy on the other end was Oliver Prince. And the thought, amazingly, no longer completely bummed her out.
Elena had been a bundle of nerves on Monday morning, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. She didn’t have any tests or quizzes scheduled. When she took her seat in social studies for first period, she opened up her assignment notebook and checked to make sure she hadn’t forgotten about a paper or anything. She hadn’t.
Then, right before the bell rang, the door opened and in walked Oliver Prince with his floppy auburn hair and his warm brown eyes, and Elena’s cheeks began to ache. She touched her face. She was smiling. At Oliver Prince. Her stomach was effervescing. Because of Oliver Prince.
He, Oliver Prince as Stashiuk4Prez, had chatted with her until midnight on Sunday, talking first about their parents’ situations, and then about other personal stuff. He told her he had a sister he wished he understood better. She told him she wished she had any siblings at all. He confessed that he was so shy he hadn’t really dated anyone before. She told him that her romantic experience was limited to an unfortunate few-week dalliance with one of North Pole’s biggest dumbasses.
“Kevin Snow?” he’d asked right away.
She’d laughed then, and she laughed now, in Santabucks, with Oliver Prince sitting right across from her. Elena clamped her mouth shut immediately.
He frowned, bewilderment settling into his warm, suddenly delicious brown eyes. How could she have ever convinced herself he was a six? He was a nine. He never wasn’t a nine.
“Sorry. Just remembered something funny.” She shook herself out of her stupor. It was foolish to think this way. He was still Oliver Prince. That hadn’t changed, and was never going to change. Whatever existed between them, online or elsewhere, was dead on arrival. Elena sucked in her cheeks to temper the perma-grin she’d been wearing since Monday morning. “We’re here to study, Harper,” she said, tapping her pencil eraser on the table.
Harper flailed her arm toward the window. “Look outside! Everyone is catching Stashes!”
Elena followed her friend’s gesture. Harper was right. The sun had been out all day, the snow was starting to melt just a hint, and throngs of people scurried up and down Main Street with their eyes on their phones, trying to maximize productivity during this unseasonable warm spell. Channeling her mother, Elena wondered how no one had managed to seriously injure themselves yet. Elena turned to Harper. “You don’t even care if you win.”
“I do!” said Harper. “I always care about winning!”
Elena couldn’t argue with that. “Harper is a chronic winner.”
“You’re not as big a winner as my brother Danny,” Brian Garland added from behind the counter.
Harper rolled her eyes. “Please.”
Slowly, cautiously, Elena swung her gaze to Oliver. “What do you say?” she asked. “Are you good? Is there anything else you’d like to go over?” She glanced down at her own notes and shuffled through her papers to see if they’d missed anything important. She peeked up at him. “Did you hear me? Do you want me to go over anything else?”
“You’re not yelling at me,” said Oliver.
“Do you want me to?” She felt her eyes sparkle.
“I’m just…” He pinched his arm. “No, I’m awake.”
Elena raised her brows. “I’m taking my job seriously,” she said. “You trust me with your Latin grade—”
“My mom does,” he said. “And she said I need to keep meeting with you if I ever want to see my computer again.”
“Either way,” said Elena. “I…am here for you.”
Oliver scrunched up his nose, then rotated slowly away from this new Bizarro World version of Elena and focused on Harper. “You guys go have fun,” he said.
“Okay.” Harper grabbed Elena’s arm.
“Come with us,” Elena blurted.
Oliver paused, having only gotten one arm through his
jacket.
“Or whatever…” Elena shrugged, shaking her head. “Do what you want.”
Harper clutched Oliver’s arm and yanked him toward the door. “Yeah, come with us! It’ll be fun, and you probably know all the answers.”
“You know I don’t,” he said.
“Please, your sister can’t keep a secret.”
His eyes twinkled at Harper. “She can about this.” Oliver nodded toward Elena. “You’re playing?”
She blushed. “Yes.” Then reluctantly, “Your game is fun, Oliver, and I want to win it.”
He grinned. “Cool.”
The three of them shoved on their coats, hats, and mittens and ran out onto the street with their phones at the ready, dodging other Stash Grabbers who were doing the same thing. They caught Stash after Stash, running all over the place—from the park up to the edge of the golf resort where Harper lived, and over by Mags’s restaurant on the far west side of town.
In front of the diner, Harper bent forward and rested her hands on her knees, panting. “When did you start running, Oliver? You’re almost as bad as her.” She jabbed a finger toward Elena.
Oliver grinned. “Something I just took up recently.”
Elena’s heart pounded as she focused hard on Harper. He had started running because of her, though he had no idea that it was because of her. In fact, he’d probably shit several bricks if he ever found out. This whole situation was so weird and surreal. “You want to rest, Harper?”
She shook her head. “I can keep up with you two.”
“I’m just saying,” said Elena, “it’s”—she checked her phone—“five thirty. We can stop for a bite—”
Harper waved her off. “I’m fine, I said.” She straightened up, waving her phone in the air. “In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m going to catch that Stash over by the video store before you do!”
Elena and Oliver jogged after Harper as she sprinted down Cedar Street, toward Main. And then they paused and watched—in slow motion—as Harper bolted across the street, hit a patch of black ice, flew into the air, and landed hard on her right leg.
“Holy crap, Harper!” Elena darted into the street toward her friend, barely checking for cars.
Any Boy but You (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 13