I love this school. Well, as much as one can love a middle school. And I love Flurry. But if there’s no festival, and Mom and Thierry decide to move …
I can’t even bring myself to tell Lark what I overheard. Not yet. That would make it too real.
“It needs to happen,” I say. “It just does.” My voice is loud enough that it draws the attention of everyone around us. Luckily, that’s when the bell rings, and my outburst is quickly forgotten.
* * *
I spend the day brainstorming creative solutions for the festival while I pretend to be interested in what my teachers are saying. Can we import snow? Can we generate machine-made snow like ski slopes do? Or maybe we can change the starting day from Friday to the following Monday so we can buy ourselves more time? But each idea is as impractical as the last. By the end of the day, the only thing I’m convinced of is that I can’t do this by myself. If only because I apparently lack the imagination for it.
Luckily, we have a student council meeting set for that afternoon. Maybe together, we can brainstorm a good idea for what the festival could look like if there’s no snow.
Marcus, Kyle, Lark, and Yoshi are already in the study room when I make it to the library after the last bell. Mr. DeShawn held me back in art because he, correctly, could tell I was making no effort at all. But when he saw my tears welling up, he let me go pretty quickly.
“Maayan came by and said we should start without her,” Lark reports when I walk in. “She had to run to a last-minute staff meeting.”
“Okay,” I say. I wish Maayan was here to help calm my nerves, but I’ll do the best I can.
I stand in front of the room, clasp my hands, and try to give off a sense of calm and authority. Ha.
“Hi, guys,” I begin. “We all know that rumors are going around that there’s a chance the town might decide to cancel the festival.”
I pause for dramatic effect, but nobody really seems to be reacting, so I power on, only slightly daunted by their silence. “So, because we’ve done such an epic job reimagining Snowman Building into something totally awesome, I thought we could take on another project.” I take a breath and continue. “Welcome to Operation Save the Festival! All we need to do is figure out how we can convince the grown-ups in town not to cancel the whole thing.”
I smile widely, like this is some sort of fun adventure that we’re all embarking on together. Everyone, even Lark, just looks at me like I’m a little crazy.
“Think of it like one of those movies,” I go on hopefully, “where the kids have the opportunity to save the day! So the question at hand is, how can we have the famous Flurry Winter Festival if there might not be snow in time?”
There’s still no word from the others. I try smiling again, but I think that might be scaring them. “Please,” I whisper, taking the enthusiasm down a few notches. “I can’t imagine not having the festival. We know that the businesses in town need the festival. And the festival is such an important event in all our lives …” My voice trails off, and I plop into an empty chair. “We need to find a solution.”
“We shouldn’t be interfering with it,” Lark finally speaks up, her tone firm. “It’s not like the town council wants to shut it down. They don’t. But they need to think about what’s best for the whole town. Not just this year, but for future years. If they keep the festival on, but half the activities are closed because there’s no snow, nobody will come back next year.”
“If we cancel this year, it’s entirely possible we won’t be here next year,” I shoot back. Well, I won’t, I think sadly.
Lark narrows her eyes at me. “Wait, what?”
I take a tight swallow, and at the last minute, I fudge. “I didn’t mean anything in particular. Just that the town depends on this money, and many businesses will suffer if the festival doesn’t happen.”
Her eyes stay on me as though she’s trying to catch me in the lie. But this isn’t the time to tell her about what I overheard last night.
“None of us want to skip the festival this year,” Kyle jumps in, looking around the room. “But what can we actually do?”
“We’re in middle school,” Marcus says with a shrug. “At best, most of us remember the past five or six years of festivals. Our parents remember dozens. And some of them even remember coming as kids. We need to let the adults in town make this call. We can’t step in.”
My tears are making it hard for me to see people clearly, but at least I don’t think anyone can tell that I’m crying. Yet.
“We need to try, though,” I argue.
“Mia is right. We should do anything we can to help,” Yoshi says, and I feel a flicker of relief. “But we should be strategic about it. There’s going to be an emergency town council meeting, right?”
“Yeah,” Lark confirms.
“Why don’t we find out what’s needed after that?” Yoshi suggests. “And then we can spend our time brainstorming wisely. For all we know, it won’t even be necessary. Maybe the grown-ups have a plan.”
“And if they don’t?” I snap. The fact that it’s Yoshi making these comments is transforming my sadness into anger. What does he even know about the importance of the festival to this town? His parents don’t run businesses that will be affected. This town will always need doctors like his mom and weathermen like his dad.
Not like my family’s business.
“Then maybe it isn’t solvable.” His voice is gentle, which infuriates me. “Some things just can’t be saved.”
His words hang in the air around us, but nobody pushes them away. Nobody tells him that he’s wrong, that the festival needs to be saved at all costs. Lark won’t even meet my eyes.
“Fine,” I whisper, hating how my voice cracks. The tears are so close to overflowing that I have no choice: flee or have everyone see me cry.
So I take the only real option. I grab my bag and speed walk out of the library. I stop by my locker to get my coat and scarf, then I head for the school exit. At least I have a whole weekend before I have to see anyone again.
“Mia, wait!”
I’m halfway out the school doors when I hear Yoshi running up behind me. But I refuse to turn around.
“I get it. Not everything can be saved,” I say bitterly, still walking quickly ahead, out into the cold. “You made your point.”
I’m not going to outrun him, so instead I turn the corner of the school and lean against the brick wall. It’s not like I think that he’s going to run right past me like in an action movie, but it would be a nice gift. Especially since today has basically been the pits.
Yoshi doesn’t even need to slow down; he takes the same turn I did and then stops where I’m standing. He’s just in his sweater; he didn’t stop to get his jacket, and he hugs himself to keep warm.
“I really don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I tell him.
“Listen, I don’t know if we can save the festival,” Yoshi says, his gaze intense. “But I also know what it’s like when you feel hopeless. So I’m happy to help you in any way I can.”
The chill is deep in my bones, and for a moment, I wonder if the cold is making me hear things wrong.
“I thought you said we should wait until we know what the grown-ups need?”
Yoshi’s shoulders rise and fall quickly. “I mean, it’s probably the smart move. But there’s no harm in coming up with options in advance. Since there’s such a time crunch and all.”
I stare into his dark eyes, but I see no hint that he’s just trying to placate me. “You know my mom owns the Rocking Horse Inn,” I start. His eyes are on mine, and he gives me a tiny nod, as if to say go on.
So I do, because I have to tell someone. And if I can’t tell Lark, who am I going to tell? “It’s been in our family forever,” I explain. “But lately, some of our guests have been canceling, and last night I heard my mom say that if things don’t improve, if all the guests cancel that weekend, then we may have to …”
I’m not even sure I can get the
words out.
“Well, let’s just say the town really needs a successful festival,” I finish instead. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.
But Yoshi seems to have read between the lines, because he takes a step closer. “I’m sure if you told Lark what’s at stake, she’d do everything she can, too.”
“I don’t want to add to her stress. It’s hard enough having the mayor as your mom. I don’t want her to worry about whether we’ll … about me.”
“Well, we can do it just the two of us,” Yoshi offers. “I’m probably a good person to brainstorm with because I have no expectations about the festival, and maybe I can help you think outside the box.”
It’s almost completely dark now, and I know that as soon as we move away from the outdoor lights of the school, we’ll barely be able to see each other. I wish I knew for sure why he was doing this, whether he really does care or if he just feels bad for me.
Either way, I’m grateful.
“Thank you,” I whisper. This feels like an important moment. Like it’s filled with possibility.
“Were you planning to walk home?” he asks hesitantly. “Because maybe we could start brainstorming as we walk?”
I feel my heart skip a beat. I turn back to the lit-up school. I should go in there and tell Lark I’m leaving. But …
“I told Lark that I was going to walk you home,” Yoshi says. “I hope that’s okay.”
I nod. I’m glad that the near-darkness is hiding my blush.
“I’m just going to go inside to grab my jacket,” Yoshi adds, his teeth starting to chatter. “There’s only so much cold a Californian can take.”
“Yes, don’t get hypothermia on me now!” I laugh, shooing him inside the building.
“Be right back,” Yoshi says, and darts inside.
As I stand there waiting for him to return, my stomach leaps with hope and nervousness.
Yoshiki Pennington might be my new favorite person in the universe. I just hope I don’t totally embarrass myself.
* * *
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Yoshi says as we walk along. He’s trying not to laugh. “When you were six, you set up a stand in front of the inn selling sno-cones?”
For the last half hour, I’ve told Yoshi about all my favorite memories of the festival, which meant we needed to circle my neighborhood several times in the cold. And now we’re back at the entrance of the inn. Again.
“Yup. And I made ten dollars.”
“But who buys sno-cones in the middle of December?” Whenever Yoshi tries hard not to laugh but doesn’t succeed, tiny little dimples appear in his cheeks. I’ve never seen anything that cute. Ever. I’m trying to appear cool and collected, but really, I’m melting into a pile of mush.
“Well, until Mom discovered what I was doing, it was mostly guests at the inn who thought it was adorable that I was carving up ice with my Snoopy Sno-cone Machine,” I explain. “That, and they felt sorry for me because it was really cold.”
Mom had almost lost it when she discovered what I’d been up to. But Thierry? He just laughed and laughed.
“Please tell me there are pictures,” Yoshi begs, and I wink.
“I might be able to hook you up.”
His eyes widen, and I’m suddenly mortified. Because I’m clearly flirting with Yoshiki Pennington.
Oh. My. God.
I’m flirting. Like, actually flirting.
And Yoshi and I are friends. And I don’t want to mess with that.
My cheeks heat up, and I cover them with my mittened hands. But Yoshi seems not to notice because he’s staring up at the inn, his head tipping back to take in the full view. “This place is amazing. You really live here?”
I forget sometimes that he’s new to town. But he’s right: The Rocking Horse Inn is amazing. I lift my gaze so I can see what he sees. And while the property is so much prettier when it’s covered in snow, I have to admit that it’s still pretty spectacular.
“Well, I technically live in the little house behind the inn. But, yes, I do.”
“I can see why …” He pauses and clears his throat, looking away from the building for a moment. “I can see why you need the festival to happen. This is a really special place.”
I blink hard to make sure the tears don’t come back. I want to tell him that my mom grew up here, that the room where I sleep is the one she slept in as a child. But I feel silly talking about a piece of property as though it were a member of the family.
“Um, do you want to come inside? I can give you a bit of a tour. I mean, not of my house because my mom and stepdad are probably in the inn working, so I can’t …”
I’m full-on babbling. Is it weird that I just invited him for a tour of the inn? Does it sound like I’m boasting? Or like I’m trying to get him alone? Or …
“I can’t right now,” he says, and I feel a mixture of relief and disappointment in my chest. “I need to get home. Can I come back another time?”
Another time. There’ll be another time. Hope flares. I nod, trying to appear nonchalant.
I realize that I don’t remember where Yoshi lives. It’s odd: At school, we spend a lot of time together, especially with the student council and the festival coming up. But I don’t know all that much about his life outside school.
“I can’t remember where you live. Is it nearby?” I ask.
“My mom’s office is a few blocks away, and I can catch a ride with her.”
I think back to what I know about Yoshi’s parents, which again is really not that much. I should ask him more, but before I can speak up, he’s made his way down the path to the sidewalk.
“Do you mind if I text you later so we can brainstorm?” He’s stopped to pull out his phone and his look is expectant.
I gulp. This is totally normal. Totally. Normal. Nothing to freak out about.
I tell him my phone number, and he taps it in, and a moment later I hear the ping of an incoming text.
Unknown Number: Hey! ☺
Mia Buchanan: Who is this?
I don’t dare look up. What if he thinks I’m totally ridiculous or …
Unknown Number: Your partner in Operation Save the Festival.
I need, like, an hour to come up with the right GIF, something that gives the appearance of nonchalance and a bit of excitement. My heart is racing and I finally give up, raising my eyes to a smiling Yoshi.
“Oh,” I manage to joke. “I thought it was my grandpa or something. Like, maybe he finally learned to text.”
Yoshi cracks up and gives me a wave as he walks away. “Talk to you later.”
* * *
He texts at six forty-five p.m., a full hour and seventeen minutes after I started staring at my phone. It’s not like I couldn’t text him, but I couldn’t think of a good opener. I’m a dork.
Yoshi Pennington: Hey! Remember me?
I put his name into my phone, of course, but I can’t resist teasing a little.
Mia Buchanan: You mean Grandpa?
Yoshi Pennington: Ouch! I hope that’s not my new nickname. Anyway, aren’t we the same age?
Mia Buchanan: Depends. When’s your birthday?
Yoshi Pennington: If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?
My stomach is going crazy. It’s like a billion butterflies hatched inside.
Mia Buchanan: If you’re lucky!
I smile to myself. Flirting is … kind of fun. In addition to being terrifying.
There’s a long pause, and I have to force myself to breathe in and out.
Yoshi Pennington: February 14th
My heart jumps.
Mia Buchanan: Really?? You were born on Valentine’s Day?
Yoshi Pennington: Yes. Good job on recognizing the date. #eyeroll
I giggle out loud. This is literally the best thing that’s happened this week.
Mia Buchanan: Well, you’re older than me. My birthday is February 29th.
Yoshi Pennington: Wait. Leap Day? For real?
Mia Buchanan: Yep.
Yoshi Pennington: No wonder you called me Grandpa. You’re what? Four years old?
Mia Buchanan: Har har har. Good job on figuring out the math.
Yoshi Pennington: Well, you’re very smart for your age, too!
Mia Buchanan: My turn to #eyeroll. I celebrate my birthday on March 1st when there isn’t a leap year. It’s more annoying when I have to tell people my birthday because they freak out like I told them I have six toes on one foot.
Yoshi Pennington: OMG. You have six toes on one foot? That’s so cool!!!
I perch up on my windowsill and get comfortable. Because I hope this conversation doesn’t end anytime soon. I don’t have a good reply for Yoshi, so instead I stick out my tongue and take a quick selfie. I send it before I have a chance to really think about it. As soon as it’s gone, I wish I could reach into the phone and pull it back out. Mom always tells me that I should think for a while before sending any picture via text or over the Internet.
Mia Buchanan: Feel free to delete that picture.
The thing about texting is that it isn’t as fast as conversation. So for people like me who get anxious over everything, there’s a lot of room to get anxious between texts. Finally, Yoshi responds.
Yoshi Pennington: I like this picture! I like your curtains.
I glance over at my curtains. The ones I’ve had up in my room since I was little and never got around to changing. I hadn’t realized that he could see them in the photo.
Mia Buchanan: Don’t mock the Powerpuff Girls.
Yoshi Pennington: Never.
And then Yoshi texts a picture of himself, standing beside his curtains. They are pink and floral. And Yoshi is making the same tongue-out, kooky look on his face as I did. While managing to look adorable, of course.
Snow One Like You Page 4