Pumpkin Spice Up Your Life

by Suzanne Nelson

  I could hardly blame him if he wasn’t. He’d put in hours with me, and we were beyond exhausted.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes and smiled. “That … was phenomenal. You’re ready.”

  “Ooooh … thank God.” I collapsed onto the floor, so grateful to be lying down at last that I didn’t even care about the papers crinkling beneath me. “If you’d told me it wasn’t working. Again …” I tried to raise my head to glare at him but couldn’t. “I might’ve spurned you forever.”

  “You wouldn’t have.” He grinned and slipped to the floor beside me. “You love me too much for that. Admit it.”

  “I …” My pulse stuttered out its own reply. I didn’t want tonight to end on an awkward note, so I reluctantly fought the urge to tell him what my heart longed to say. “Hey.” I lifted my head then, realizing, with surprise, that he hadn’t brought Kiya up all night. “You never told me what happened with Kiya. Did you talk to her?”

  He groaned. “I’m not sure my sleep-deprived brain cells can cope with the rehash, but I’ll try.” He grabbed a pillow from the couch for himself and lay back down. “Long story short: I talked to her and … you were right.” He stared up at the ceiling. “She basically said she only liked me as a friend. But she was nice about it.” He sighed. “We could still go to the dance as friends.”

  “Oh …” My heart plummeted. “Right.”

  He studied my face for a long moment that made my pulse quicken. “But we’re not,” he said slowly. “Going to go together.”

  “Oh!” I exclaimed, then could’ve kicked myself a second later for how happy my voice sounded. “Why not?”

  He swiveled onto his side to face me. “Because I deserve better than to be somebody’s second choice.” His tone was certain, his eyes locked on mine.

  “You do,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, though. I know you’re disappointed.” Yet as I searched his face for signs of heartache, I saw a surprisingly calm acceptance.

  He gave me a sleepy smile. “You’re not that sorry.”

  I laughed through a big yawn. “True.”

  “You know, it’s funny … I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be.” He shrugged. “The fact is, I don’t really know her that well. It was like I was chasing after this beautiful mirage in the distance, but it wasn’t the real deal. Now I know better.” He met my gaze. “Next time, my heart’s holding out for the one-of-a-kind oasis.”

  “Oasis.” I smiled tiredly. “Daniel. You have impossible standards.” My eyes were starting to close against my will, and I struggled to keep them open. I glanced at Daniel, whose eyes were fluttering closed, too.

  “Not impossible.” He yawned and mumbled something that I thought sounded like, “I have you …”

  “Daniel …” I whispered. I tried to stay awake long enough to tell him that I was glad, more than glad, that he’d realized Kiya wasn’t right for him. Long enough to confess what was in my own heart. But sleep was the symphony I couldn’t ignore, and before I could say more, I was drifting into its melody, comforted by the fact that Daniel was near, only an arm’s length away.

  I was pulled from sleep by the sound of our coffee maker gurgling to life with a hiss of steam. I groggily opened my eyes and found myself staring into Daniel’s sleeping face, right near mine. I registered that we were still on the family room floor, nestled in the piles of composition papers left over from last night’s musical blitzkrieg. Somehow, our hands had found each other during the night, because right now, my hands were clasped snugly and warmly in Daniel’s.

  My heart thrummed happily in my chest, and I stayed as still as possible, wanting to linger near him. I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips. I wondered what they would feel like to kiss.

  He made a quiet stirring sound, and a lock of his hair slipped over his forehead. Before I even realized what I was doing, I slid my hand from his to brush the hair back from his face. As my fingertips grazed his temple, his eyes opened.

  “Nadi,” he whispered in a tone that made me love the way he said my name. My hand froze, and I wondered if he’d jump up, startled by our close proximity.

  But his eyes were dream-steeped, and instead, he smiled slowly. I still wasn’t sure if he was fully awake or half asleep as his head moved toward mine, and then my eyes closed, and—

  “Rise and shine, kiddos.” Dad’s voice made my eyes spring open. Blushing wildly, I scooted away from Daniel, banging my head against the coffee table in the process. Daniel quickly sat up, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment on his face. Dad glanced over at us, taking in the mess of papers and our makeshift beds on the floor. I snuck a side glance at Daniel, and we both smiled sheepishly. “Better get a move on,” Dad said. “I’m making coffee and breakfast sandwiches to take with us in the car. We’ve got to hit the road in fifteen.”

  “Omigod!” I cried, forgetting the awkwardness of the last thirty seconds. “I’ve got to get ready.”

  I lunged for the loft stairs while Daniel started scooping up some of the empty mugs and papers.

  “I’ll clean up down here and make you a Pumpkin Spice Supreme to go,” he called after me.

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully, and flew upstairs, adrenaline transforming my tiredness into frenetic energy.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling out of the driveway with Burlington plugged into Waze and a paper cup of Daniel’s Pumpkin Spice Supreme in my hands, warming me and fueling me with determination.

  All too soon, we were waiting in the hallway of the music building at the University of Vermont. The scene was chaotic; each musician waiting to audition tuned and retuned their instrument, or practiced that last measure with the tricky fingering. Dad paced, while Daniel stood by my side, giving me a smile that reminded me he had confidence in me, no matter what. I hugged my new cello to my chest, willing the perspiration slicking my fingertips to dry before the audition coordinator called my name.

  I sucked in a breath and caught Daniel studying my face. “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head, his smile never wavering. “I get that you might be hyperventilating on the inside, but on the outside …” He gave me two thumbs up. “Calm, cool, collected—”

  “About to pass out,” I offered, to which he laughed.

  “You always get this fierce expression before you perform. Like you’re that good, and you know it.”

  “Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know it.”

  He reached for my hand, and my breath caught. “Your fingers do.”

  For a second, as he held my hand in his, I wondered if he were about to raise it to his lips.

  “Nadine Durand.” My heart spasmed as I turned to see the audition coordinator peering over her iPad at the faces around the room.

  “I’m Nadine.” I glanced back at Dad and Daniel.

  “You got this,” Dad said, giving me a quick hug, while Daniel gave my hand one final squeeze.

  “Thank you,” I told them both. I couldn’t have done this without them.

  I forced my feet to move. One step, then two, then a dozen, past the other waiting auditioners and into the quiet room beyond. A panel of three admissions personnel sat solemnly at a long table. I eased onto the empty chair, my cello beside me, the loyal, constant friend it was.

  “Ms. Durand.” The spectacled man in the middle of the table gave me a brief but kind smile. “The title of the original composition you’ll be performing for us today, if you please.”

  “Oh.” My resolve faltered in the face of this question. Since I’d only finished the piece last night, I hadn’t yet named it. Panic rose in me, then stilled. I had the name. I’d known it all along. “ ‘Daniel’s Song.’ ” My voice was even and smooth.

  The man jotted it down on his notepad. “You may begin when you’re ready.”

  “Daniel’s Song.” I smiled. It was perfect for the piece that I’d written with Daniel by my side. It was a piece that sang of our friendship, of the laughter and Fallfests and coffees we’d shared together th
rough the years. It was a piece I could play by heart, without nervousness, because it was a piece that came from my heart. I rested my cello’s neck tenderly against my shoulder, lifted my bow, and played.

  “Nadi? Daniel? We’re here.”

  At the sound of Dad’s voice, I opened my eyes to find my head resting on Daniel’s shoulder. We were in the back seat of the car, and had just pulled into the driveway of Daniel’s house. Daniel stirred, too, and sat up, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

  “You two have been out for the last hour,” Dad said. Then to Daniel, he added, “Better get yourself to bed early tonight. It’s been a long day.”

  Daniel glanced at me with a grin. “Yep. But a good one.”

  I grinned back. The second I’d left the audition room, Dad and Daniel had been waiting to envelop me in a double hug.

  “You nailed it.” Daniel had beamed at me.

  “You don’t know that—”

  “It’s you, Nadi.” He nodded confidently. “I know.”

  I wouldn’t find out whether I’d gotten accepted to Interlochen camp for at least another month, but I had a good feeling about it. “Daniel’s Song” had flowed flawlessly from my cello. As I’d played, everything and everyone else in the room had faded away, until it was just me and the music. I didn’t know what the admissions panel would decide, but I’d given them the best performance of my life so far. That was all I could ask for.

  Now I followed Daniel out of the car, calling to Dad over my shoulder, “Back in a sec.”

  As we stepped onto Daniel’s porch, he turned to me.

  “Thanks for bringing me along today,” he said. “Someday, when you’re a world-famous cellist, I can say I knew you when.”

  I laughed. “Thank you for coming. For keeping me sane, for practicing with me last night, for making me that pumpkin spice latte, for”—I shrugged—“everything.” I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

  But when I moved to step away, he seemed reluctant to let go. He brought his forehead to mine and I felt my knees weaken. “Nadi?” he whispered softly. “Do you ever wonder if … I mean, do you ever feel like you and I are … ?”

  Omigod, I thought, is this it? Has he been reading my mind? Does he know what’s in my heart that I don’t have the courage to say? “What?” I whispered back, then waited breathlessly, hoping, wishing.

  He blushed furiously, looking so uncharacteristically unsure of himself that I blushed for him. “Never mind,” he said softly. “I’m delirious.” He shook his head like he was talking himself out of whatever he’d been about to say. “I, um, should go,” he added.

  I nodded as a flutter of happiness rose inside of me. He feels it, too, I thought. This new thing between us. Daniel Dae Cho, the most confident, spontaneous person I’d ever met, was nervous about telling me how he felt. It was adorable, and made him look even more maddeningly cute as he waved to me before turning to go inside his house.

  I barely waited for the door’s click before I was bounding off the porch steps, phone in hand, calling Elle. I knew what I needed to do. It would mean putting myself out there, risking rejection. For once, though, I was going to forget caution, calendars, and every other organized cell in my body. Life was too short to do anything else but to take giant leaps of faith every now and then, especially for people you truly cared for.

  “Did you get in?” Elle shrieked into the phone when she answered.

  “Not yet,” I replied after my ear stopped ringing. “That’s not why I’m calling. I need you and Brandon to meet me tomorrow after school at the entrance to the Pumpkin Blaze.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I have a plan, but I need your help.” I smiled as I climbed back into Dad’s car. “Operation Daniel is underway.”

  Any sign of him yet? I texted Elle.

  Not yet, she texted back.

  I stood in front of a glowing circus train sculpted entirely out of pumpkins, surrounded by the blaze of thousands of other jack-o’-lanterns. I knew Elle was standing at the Blaze’s entrance, keeping a lookout for Daniel. Brandon was stationed inside the Blaze’s main headquarters, overseeing the sound and lighting systems. He was waiting to play his role in Operation Daniel, too.

  I’d done my best to avoid Daniel at school earlier that day, worried that, if I saw him, I wouldn’t be able to hide the nervousness and excitement from my face. He’d know something was up. And Daniel had pulled off so many successful surprises through the years; this one time I wanted him to be the one who was genuinely surprised.

  Now, heart pounding, I scanned the crowds of Blaze-goers as they walked past. The scent of freshly made apple cider donuts wafted from the Blaze’s outdoor café. This Friday night was the perfect blend of crisp air and clear skies; the glimmering, colorful lights of the Blaze seemed to stretch forever across the base of Killington mountain. There was a field of pumpkin dinosaurs, a ghoulish pumpkin cemetery, and a huge web lit with glowing pumpkin spiders.

  As I took it all in, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. How many times had I come here with Daniel when we were younger? Each time, we’d been a little bit older but not an ounce less enthusiastic. Up until this year, we never would’ve imagined skipping it. This had always been a magical spot for us, and maybe now, it could be again. If he ever actually got here!

  I shifted from one foot to the other, trying to bide my time patiently but failing miserably.

  Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

  He’s on his way , Elle’s text read. I’ll text Brandon to start the music in 5. My heart struck a hard cymbal crash, all my hopes and fears crowding together.

  Elle and Brandon and I had already made our way through the Blaze’s walking trail three times over the last hour, carrying the pumpkins we’d spent hours last night carving. Yesterday, Brandon and Liam had wheeled a Radio Flyer wagon full of pumpkins over to my house, and then we’d set to work. Elle, Brandon, Liam, and even Dad had helped carve the words I wanted to say into the pumpkins. Then this afternoon, we’d brought them back to the Blaze and arranged them in what I hoped were obvious spots along the pathway. Even alongside the other, larger-than-life pumpkin-scapes, Daniel couldn’t possibly miss them, could he?

  I felt a shiver of worry. Suddenly, a loud warning boomed in my head, like a menacing voiceover for a doomsday movie trailer. He won’t like it, the voice declared. He won’t like you, either.

  I winced, thinking that this was exactly the reason why I never went out on a limb. But then I reminded myself of the last few weeks and all the risks I’d taken. I’d told Daniel the truth about Kiya—big risk. I’d auditioned at Interlochen without feeling totally prepared—bigger risk. And I’d called Mom and poured my heart out to her after six years of estrangement—the biggest risk I’d ever taken in my life. No matter what Daniel’s reaction now, this risk was worth it. He was worth it.

  And then … I saw him waving from a dozen feet away, his face lit by the jack-o’-lanterns lining the path. Before I knew it, he was standing in front of me, and my heart was toppling out of my chest like a racing runaway pumpkin.

  “Hey, you.” In the glimmer of the Blaze’s glow, his eyes lightened from brown to liquid gold. “Everything okay? I didn’t see you at school today and I got worried. I texted—”

  “I know.” A nervous laugh popped out of me before I could stop it. Please don’t blow it, I told myself. “I, um … had some stuff I needed to take care of. But hey …” My voice was a D-string wound too tight, and I couldn’t control its pitch. “… you don’t want to hear about that.” I waved a gloved hand dismissively. “I thought it’d be fun to walk the Blaze tonight. It’s our annual tradition, right?”

  “Right,” he said slowly. “But you said you didn’t want to go this year. That we’d outgrown it.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” I blurted, then walked a few steps down the path, motioning him to follow. “Come on!” Daniel cocked his head at me quizzically, and I could tell he knew something wasn’t right.

  “N
adi, what’s going …”

  The rest of his words died away as music—my cello music—suddenly burst from the speakers at the Blaze’s entrance. Silently, I thanked Brandon for making good on his promise to stream the song I’d recorded earlier from the sound system inside the Blaze’s headquarters.

  I hurried down the path ahead of Daniel before he had a chance to ask any questions. “There’s something you need to see!” I called over my shoulder.

  I breezed by the ghoulish cemetery, leading him closer to the first of my “surprise” pumpkins. With my pulse accelerating, I wondered how long it might take Daniel to notice the music. No sooner did I think it than he caught up to me. “Hey, isn’t this your song?” he asked. “The one you composed for your audition?”

  I nodded. “I gave it a title.” I smiled at him. “I call it ‘Daniel’s Song.’ ” Then I spotted my pumpkins and pointed to them, saying as casually as I could, “Hey! Looks like somebody left you a message.”

  Blazing orange words, carved onto half a dozen pumpkins, read: Daniel Cho, you are the sweetness in every pumpkin spice.

  “Nadi?” came Daniel’s mystified voice from beside me. “What’s going on?”

  But I couldn’t look at him yet. I was too afraid of what I might see on his face.

  Instead, I hurried to my next group of carvings, set up along the banister of a luminous pumpkin bridge.

  You are the cinnamon sprinkles, getting me through the cold, my pumpkins read.

  My face was burning and my knees were trembling as I led him to my last message, set up in front of a field of twinkling pumpkin-carved flowers.

  My heart trilled as I watched Daniel stop to read the flickering words on these pumpkins: You know the music in my heart, and I like you a latte.

  He faced me, and I knew there was no turning back now. I felt exposed but also, once I saw Daniel’s bright and expectant gaze, hopeful.