“I know you didn’t, Little O.”
I hadn’t heard that nickname in a long time. It was short for “Little Owl,” which seems kind of silly now that I tower over my mother by nearly a foot. She’s called me that ever since I was a baby and refused to sleep through the night. There’s even a picture of us wearing matching sweaters that she knitted with owls on the front and the initials “L. O.” for me and “M. O.”—that stands for Mama Owl—for her on the back.
The thing is, there are advantages to being a night owl. With five of us kids to take care of and Dad deployed most of the time, there hadn’t always been enough of my mother to go around. And ever since I could remember, when I’d wake up in the middle of the night and go to get a drink of water or whatever, she’d still be awake. Sometimes she’d be waiting for a call from Dad—when your husband is stationed halfway around the world, you can’t be picky about when to schedule a call—and sometimes she’d be reading or knitting or watching a movie, or just drinking tea and staring into the dark. It was the perfect opportunity to get some alone time with her.
I loved those nighttime visits. Sometimes my mother would make me tea or cocoa too, and sometimes we’d talk or she’d read aloud to me, but mostly I’d just curl up beside her on the sofa, content to be breathing the same air.
Since Black Monday, though, the initials in my nickname might as well have stood for “Largely Overlooked.” Between the move, worries over my father and the bookstore, going back to college, and now a part-time job, my mother had reformed her night-owl ways. These days, she was in bed, sound asleep, well before I was.
“Ouch!” Scooter squawked, springing back indignantly. “Quit daydreaming! You stepped on my foot!”
“Like you haven’t stepped on mine a million times already!” I retorted.
The music came to a stop, and Ms. Ivey clapped her hands one last time. “Excellent work, everyone!”
“Before you go,” added Mr. Abramowitz, “we have an announcement to make.”
Cha Cha and I exchanged a glance. This was it—the worm we were hoping would bait the hook for Calhoun.
“This year, for the very first time, the Starlite Dance Studio will be offering cash prizes at Cotillion!”
There was an audible buzz of excitement in the gym at this news. Scooter brightened, and I glanced over at Calhoun to see if it had piqued his interest too, but the expression on his face was unreadable.
“They’ll be awarded in a number of categories, including best dance partners, of course, but also best dressed and most improved.” Mr. Abramowitz slipped an arm around Cha Cha’s mother’s waist. “Mrs. Abramowitz and I are hoping that this will give you all an incentive to work especially hard this year, since it’s the one hundredth anniversary of our town’s Winter Festival. We’re expecting media coverage!”
Media other than the Pumpkin Falls Patriot-Bugle? Fat chance.
“Remember,” added Cha Cha’s mother, “you all need to sign up for two complimentary practice sessions at the Starlite.”
“Attendance will be taken!” noted Ms. Ivey. “Be sure and show up on time, and bring your best Pumpkin Falls manners!”
I smothered a grin. I’d have to add “Pumpkin Falls manners” to my list of things to tell Mackenzie next time we talked. My cousin is completely fascinated with my new hometown.
“It’s like you stepped through a wormhole or something,” she told me the other night. Mackenzie is a big fan of sci-fi movies. “Pumpkin Falls: The Town That Time Forgot!” she added in a fake radio announcer’s voice. “I can’t believe there’s a place that has a dance for the entire town.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Earth to Truly!” said Cha Cha, yanking me back to reality. “Come on—we’re going to be late for math.”
CHAPTER 16
“So, did you talk to him?” Cha Cha asked Jasmine, as the three of us headed back upstairs to our classroom. Lucas trailed a few feet behind.
“Franklin?” said Jasmine dreamily.
“No! Calhoun, duh,” said Cha Cha. She looked over at me and rolled her eyes. Jasmine’s case of Franklin-on-the-brain was starting to drive us both nuts.
“Oh, right,” Jasmine replied, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind an ear. “Yeah.”
“So what did he say?”
“He’s interested. Especially when I told him that my brother was sure to try for one of the prizes too.”
Jasmine had told us that even though they’re best friends, her brother and Calhoun are super competitive.
“The worm is on the hook!” crowed Cha Cha.
Now all we had to do was get the worm to the bookstore, where we’d unleash the second part of our plan.
The four of us were hoping to cut a deal with Calhoun. Private dance lessons with Cha Cha—and a shot at winning one of the prizes—in exchange for getting us into the college library.
Would he go for it? Would he even stay put long enough to listen to our offer? Calhoun was bound to be mad when he found out we’d tricked him.
Lucas had bravely volunteered as bait for our trap. Jasmine’s job was to cut Calhoun out of the herd after school, which mostly meant separating him from Scooter. Cha Cha and Lucas and I would run on ahead to Main Street, where I’d make sure the coast was clear at the bookstore while Cha Cha covered the door. Lucas would wait outside, hiding behind the mailbox in front of Lou’s Diner with an arsenal of snowballs. Calhoun always walked down Main Street to get home, and we figured once Lucas stepped out and fired off a snowball at him, Calhoun wouldn’t be able to resist chasing him down.
It was like dangling a red scarf in front of a bull.
At least we hoped so.
If everything went as planned, Lucas would duck inside the bookstore, Calhoun would come after him just like he and Scooter did before, and bingo, we’d have him cornered. Easy peasy lemon squeezie, right? Of course, there was the risk that Calhoun would break Lucas into tiny pieces when he found out we’d tricked him, but probably not with Aunt True onsite as backup.
First, though, I had to get through math.
“Pop quiz!” Ms. Ivey announced as we took our seats, and everybody groaned.
I glanced down at the sheet of paper she set in front of me. Word problems! My nemesis.
“When you’re finished, I’d like you to swap your test with the person next to you, and then we’ll all grade them together,” said Ms. Ivey.
Ten minutes later, our time was up. I handed my quiz to Cha Cha and she gave me hers. Our teacher put the answer to the first problem on the board. Dang! Cha Cha had gotten it right, but I hadn’t. A lot of my other answers were correct, though, which gave me hope that the end result would be enough to convince my father to let me try out for swim team.
Final score: 76 percent.
“Much better, Truly,” said Ms. Ivey, patting me on the shoulder as she came by to collect our papers. “Looks like that tutoring is paying off.”
I smiled at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scooter slouched down in his seat at the back of the room. He didn’t look so happy with his grade. That’s what you get for stomping on your dancing partner’s feet, I thought smugly.
After class, as I went to my locker to get my jacket, I texted the quiz results to my father.
ONLY 24% MORE TO 100%! he texted back.
I looked at his message, deflated. Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy was not easy to please.
“Are you ready?” Cha Cha whispered, nodding toward Jasmine and Scooter, who were over by their lockers arguing.
“Mom didn’t say anything this morning about another orthodontist appointment!” Scooter protested.
“You weren’t listening, that’s all,” Jasmine told him. “She’s meeting you in the parking lot in ten minutes. She won’t be happy if you’re a no-show.”
Scooter’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, dude,” he muttered to Calhoun, who was waiting for him. “Maybe we can hang out later.”
Jasmine slipped a han
d behind her back. She made a shooing motion at Cha Cha and Lucas and me, and the three of us hurried past her. Mrs. Sanchez was nowhere near School Street, but Scooter didn’t know that, and by the time he found out, we’d be long gone.
Outside, it was snowing yet again. My friends and I jogged through the flurries toward town, and five minutes later we were in place.
“Don’t let your mother see you,” I warned Lucas, who was crouched down between the mailbox and the curb outside the diner. “Cha Cha is right over there by the door, in case anything goes wrong. She’s got your six.”
“My what?”
“Sorry—military-speak. Your back.” I trotted over to Cha Cha. “Any sign of Calhoun?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Keep your eyes peeled.”
I doubled back and made a brief stop at the diner, then ducked into the bookstore. Now that inventory was finished, Lovejoy’s Books was officially open again, but business wasn’t exactly bustling. The only one inside the bookshop was Aunt True.
“Truly! What are you doing here?” she said, looking at me in surprise. “You’re early for tutoring. Your dad’s not back from his physical therapy session yet.”
“I know. I brought you a Winter Elixir.” My aunt’s eyes lit up, and I felt a pang of guilt. The steaming cup came with a side of ulterior motive. I was buttering Aunt True up.
“How thoughtful of you,” she said. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Aunt True had gotten hooked on Lou’s Winter Elixirs. They’re the diner’s most popular seasonal drink, a piping-hot blend of ginger tea, apple cider, and cranberry juice. I waited until she took a sip, then said, “Remember Lucas and Cha Cha?”
She nodded.
“They’re here again today.”
She looked around, frowning. “Where?”
“Outside,” I replied. “Waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
I had to get this next bit just right. “Um, for a boy.”
“Ohhhhhhh,” said Aunt True, her eyebrows arching skyward. “A boy.” She said the word like it had half a dozen syllables.
“You know the Winter Festival dance? Well, Cha Cha wants to—”
Aunt True held up her hand. “Say no more! I’ve got the picture. I’ll make myself scarce when they come in, shall I?”
I nodded. “Thanks, Aunt True.”
She was quickly becoming my favorite aunt.
Two minutes later, the front door flew open and Cha Cha and Lucas ran in. Our plan had gone off like clockwork, and Calhoun was right on their heels with a snowball.
“Excuse me, young man,” called Aunt True. “This is a snowball-free zone.”
Calhoun froze.
“Don’t make me sic Miss Marple on you!”
Over on her dog bed, Miss Marple heard her name. The snoring whuffled to a stop and she cracked open an eye, sizing up the situation. Fortunately, Calhoun wasn’t familiar with my aunt’s sense of humor or with Miss Marple. He eyed the dog warily, then dropped his arm.
“That’s more like it,” said Aunt True briskly. She held out her hand for the snowball. Calhoun gave it to her, and she opened the door and tossed it in the gutter. Closing the door again, my aunt regarded us thoughtfully. “If I leave the four of you alone while I go rustle up some snacks, will you promise not to kill each other?”
Cha Cha and Lucas and I nodded. Calhoun hesitated, then he shrugged and nodded too.
“Good,” said Aunt True, and she disappeared into the office.
We stood there awkwardly for a couple of moments. Then the bell over the door jangled and Jasmine came in, breathless from running. She broke into a big grin when she saw Calhoun. “Hey, it really worked!”
“What worked?” Calhoun glanced from her over to Cha Cha and Lucas and me. His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, you did this on purpose?”
Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re the world’s worst dance partner,” she told him. “People are making fun of us behind our backs.”
Calhoun’s face went from angry red to embarrassed red.
“But we can fix that for you,” Cha Cha added. “And we can make it so you have a shot at beating Scooter for a prize.”
Calhoun snorted.
“Really, we can.” Cha Cha explained what we wanted from him.
Calhoun looked baffled. “You want me to get you into the college library?”
We all nodded.
“What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one,” I told him.
“So what’s so important about the library?”
“None of your business,” said Cha Cha. “Are you in?”
He hesitated. “I’ll think about it.”
Aunt True returned just then with a tray of pumpkin whoopie pies. “You’ve multiplied!” she said, looking over at Jasmine.
“Oh hey, Aunt True, this is my friend Jasmine Sanchez,” I told her. “And you’ve already met Calhoun.”
“Greetings and salutations!” said Aunt True. “Welcome one and all to Lovejoy’s Books. Would you like one of our signature treats?” She held out the tray and we each took one of the silver-dollar-size whoopie pies.
“Take more than that,” she urged. “Please. Unless we get a rush of customers”—she looked around at the empty store and sighed—“these will just go to waste.”
“I’m going to walk my friends down to Lou’s,” I told her. “If Dad gets here before I get back, tell him I’ll only be a minute, okay?”
“You bet.” She winked at me as I walked past her. “Cute guy,” she whispered.
My mouth fell open.
Aunt True was supposed to think that Cha Cha had a crush on Calhoun, not me!
CHAPTER 17
“So,” said my mother, cutting up Pippa’s sausages. Wednesday was breakfast-for-dinner night, everybody’s favorite. “Do you think you’ll be able to join us at the meet tonight?” Her tone was neutral, and she gave my father the briefest of glances.
“Let him find his way back into the family again in his own way and his own time,” the therapists at the military hospital in Maryland had counseled my mother. She’d shared their advice with Danny and Hatcher and me, and we were all trying to help her follow it. It wasn’t easy, though, especially since progress seemed glacial.
Before, whenever he was home on leave, Dad had always come to as many of our practices and meets as he could, but now, even though he’s technically around, we hardly see him outside of the bookstore.
My father chewed his waffle, swallowed, then washed it down with a sip of coffee. “Maybe,” he said, and my mother left it at that.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m due at the library in five minutes,” I said. Calhoun had thought our offer over and said yes, and my classmates and I were scheduled to meet him tonight at six. “If it’s okay with you, ma’am,” I finished politely.
“Sure, honey,” she replied. “Just be back by seven, okay? I don’t want to be late for Danny’s first meet.”
I practically sprinted down Hill Street into town, the freshly fallen snow crunching under my feet at every step. Passing under Lovejoy College’s arched iron gates, I jogged on toward the library.
I’d been to the campus plenty of times before. My brothers and I used to play hide-and-seek here in the summertime when we’d visit Gramps and Lola. I’d never seen it in winter, though, and I looked around with curiosity as I crossed the quad. The old buildings and tall, sturdy trees were shawled in white, and the snow falling in the soft glow of the old-fashioned streetlights lining the paths was like something out of a postcard. In fact, I was fairly sure I’d seen this very scene on a postcard at the General Store. Students scurried along, bundled up in hats and mittens and scarves, and out in the middle of the quad, a group of them was building a snowman. I didn’t linger to watch, though. It was too cold, and I didn’t want to be late.
Calhoun was the only one on the library steps so far.
“Um, hi,�
� I said.
He grunted a hello back. I stood beside him, squirming a little inside when I recalled how Aunt True thought I had a crush on him. Crushes are right up there on the list of things I’m not good at. The last time I’d had one I was Pippa’s age. Growing up with two older brothers didn’t leave much room for crushes—in my experience, boys were mostly loud, smelly creatures who liked to tease me and make Toot Soup noises and play practical jokes. I liked boys just fine—but as friends and brothers, not crushes.
Mom and I had talked about it once last summer, after we’d moved into our Austin house and Mackenzie started talking nonstop about Mr. Perfect Cameron McAllister, the guy on our swim team.
“I just don’t get it, Mom,” I’d said. “He’s not that interesting. Or cute, whatever that means. Really, he’s not.”
She’d laughed. “You’ll get it one of these days, honey. No rush, though. And I know exactly how you feel—you think you’ve got it bad with two brothers? I have six of them!”
My mother told me she didn’t date much at all until she got to college, and I guess I just figure it’ll be the same for me.
My feet were cold, and I stamped them, wishing Cha Cha and Jasmine and Lucas would hurry up.
A few minutes later they finally showed, and Calhoun led us inside. “Hey, Chester,” he said, waving to the security guard.
“Calhoun, my man! What’s up?”
“Is it okay if I show my friends around?”
The guard looked past him at Cha Cha and Jasmine and me and grinned. “Way to impress the ladies, dude!”
Calhoun blushed to the roots of his sandy hair. The security guard laughed. “I’m just pulling your leg. Sure, go on in, buddy. Anybody asks, you tell them Chester okayed it.” He waved us through the metal detector.
From the outside, the library looked like just another traditional New England building, all white clapboard and sashed windows. Inside, however, was another story. I couldn’t help gawking as we entered the soaring lobby. To the right a broad marble staircase curved toward the upper stories. Overhead were rows and rows of skylights, and straight ahead the lobby opened onto a huge glassed-in courtyard.
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