I make it in time for the first official event: the Snowshoe Races. Maybe because I know how close we came to not having this event at all, I scream and cheer louder than I ever have before. Especially when Kyle’s five-year-old sister wins the under-seven race. I can’t believe that in the next few years, I’ll be hollering for the littles as they compete. They’ll either win every event or they’ll be a total disaster. Either way, I’ll be right here cheering them on.
After that, I find Lark, Yoshi, and Marcus. Yoshi is wide-eyed, taking it all in.
“This is so cool!” he exclaims. “Marcus and I are going to Top of the Mountain next to watch the cross-country skiing. Do you guys want to come?” he asks me and Lark.
We shake our heads. Lark and I have our traditions, which involve checking out the craft fair and then getting some of the snacks only available on Fridays. We say good-bye to Marcus and Yoshi, who we’ll be seeing bright and early tomorrow. Then we roam around, stopping at all the craft booths. We try on bracelets and earrings, and I buy a handmade snow globe to give to the littles.
“Where to next?” I ask Lark. “I’m thinking I might need to sit down. I’m exhausted from all this walking. Want to try one of the fried snowflakes and sit on a bench?”
Lark gives me a look of utter contempt. “Seriously? How long have we been friends? Do you really think you need to fake being tired so that I don’t feel badly about needing to sit down?”
I cough into my glove. “No, apparently I’m just out of shape. Because I’m actually exhausted.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Lark says. “But I do want to try one of the fried snowflakes.”
There are a dozen food trucks parked in a large circle with picnic tables and benches in the center. The whole area is lit up by the Flurry Trees and it brings tears to my eyes.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say, mostly to myself.
“It is,” Lark says. “I’m really proud of you, you know. You made so much of this happen.”
I think back to the conversation I had yesterday with Yoshi. And suddenly there’s a part of me that’s glad there’s no sleigh ride this year. It’s not that I didn’t work hard as junior coordinator. I know I did. But this year was such a team effort, it wouldn’t feel right to be in that sleigh by myself.
“We all made this happen,” I respond.
“We did, but you brought it all together, Mia. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about suggesting all those ideas.”
“You were right, though. I mean, it seems like the ideas will work, but it could have been a disaster.”
“But it isn’t.”
“Nope.” I smile.
We get in line for Bari’s Fried Snowflakes, and I notice Kyle is working the cash register.
“Kyle must be in heaven.” I laugh.
“It’s the closest Bari will let him get to deep-frying dough. But he’s wearing her down.”
“Do you think he can get us extra fried snowflakes?”
“Definitely!”
And he does. Lark and I end up eating three each, and the stomachache is totally worth it.
* * *
Early the next morning, thirty seventh and eighth graders meet downtown to open both the Snow Carnival and the Snowman Building event. Yoshi gives everyone a quick orientation on what needs to be done for the Snow Carnival, and Lark explains the Snowman Building event.
The instructions are clear, and the volunteers are excited to help. So we open up the booths to the public.
The crowds are crazy right away. First, I hang around at the carnival, and I watch the little kids flood in to explore the booths, all of them eager and excited. I can’t believe the aim that some of these kids have for the snowball tossing events. I might need to be extra careful at the snowball fight tomorrow. And the snowball bowling and golf are hilarious to watch.
As I leave, I wave at Yoshi, who is explaining to a little boy that he needs to let someone else into the snow chalet to play. Especially since there’s already a line. But it looks like everything is under control.
So I move on to the Snowman Building booth, where a group of kids have apparently decided that they don’t want to put the costumes on the ready-made snowmen; they want to use them as dress-up for taking pictures in the photo booth part.
“Is it okay that we’re letting them?” Lark asks as two eighth graders bring out the background screen for a photo.
“I don’t care,” I admit. “I just want people to have fun.”
“They are definitely having fun.” Lark laughs and makes Kyle show me some of the ridiculous pictures he’s taken so far.
“I love this so much,” I gush. “Are the snowman building professionals behaving, also?”
“I think initially they were a little taken aback,” Lark says, “but I’ve seen them using the selfie sticks with their own creations when nobody is watching. You should check out their stuff—they’re just as cool as the ice sculptures.”
“Are you sure they won’t get mad at me for polluting their snowman building with all these costumes and props?” I’m only half joking. I mean, I think it’s great, but my snowman building skills are much closer to the little kids’ than the professionals.
“Go check out the northeast corner. Ask about the different versions of Mount Rushmore they’ve created and nobody will say boo about the little kids.”
There’s a large crowd around the four teams in the Mount Rushmore section, each one reimagining a modern-day memorial. From what I can see from the back of the crowd, there’s an all-women’s version, an African American version, and two I don’t recognize.
“What are the two on the left?” I ask a man in front of me.
He turns and grins. “One is dedicated to the immigrants who built this country. And the other is WWE inspired.”
A wrestler’s monument?
I truly love this festival so much that I get teary-eyed.
I split my time between our areas, relieving people who need breaks or whose shifts are over, bringing box lunches for volunteers from the volunteer center. Wherever I go, I get high fives, and I feel so happy I could burst.
“Mia! Mia!” I’m finally taking a break on a snow-covered bench when Talulah and Tabitha descend on me.
“I can’t get up,” I complain to Shannon, which is a little ridiculous since she’s just carted three kids around in a sled behind her. I’m grateful she doesn’t call me on it.
“Come on, girls, let your sister relax,” Shannon says, scooping Lilou up in her arms from the sled.
“Did you get fried snowflakes?” I ask the littles in a fake quiet voice.
Their eyes widen and their mouths open. “How do you fry a snowflake?”
“Tell your mom to take you to get some. And when you come back, I’ll go through the Snow Carnival with you.”
“There’s a long line,” Tabitha says.
“I think I can get you through.”
And I do. After all, there has to be a benefit to having a crazy older sister.
* * *
Saturday passes in a blur. Before I know it, it’s Sunday, and the marathon cross-country skiers are circling Flurry, and everyone is preparing for what we hope will finally be the World’s Biggest Snowball Fight. The last two days have been better than I could possibly have imagined, but the one thing that has been bothering me is that I haven’t really spent much time with Yoshi. And this is his first festival.
Luckily, the person I most want to see is now walking toward me wearing his bright blue, green, and yellow snowsuit, which makes him hard to miss.
“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days,” Yoshi says when he reaches me.
“Was that on purpose? Did you get tired of me?” I tease, surprising myself.
“Never,” he says, and it almost looks like he’s serious.
“I feel bad because I wanted to show you around the festival, but now it’s almost over.”
“It’s never too late to be my guide.” Yoshi holds
out his gloved hand. “Plus, I’ve barely left the Snow Carnival, so I haven’t seen that much.”
Is this a hold out your hand so we start moving or a hold out your hand because I want to hold your hand? But then I push the worry aside and take his hand.
“Tell me that you’ve had the amazing fried snowflakes.” I laugh.
Yoshi and I are holding hands.
“Oh my gosh. They were awesome. Fried snowflakes are my new favorite food.”
Yoshi and I are holding hands.
“Did you get chestnuts?” I ask, and I hope that Yoshi doesn’t hear the quiver in my voice. Because we’re holding hands.
“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”
It might be freezing cold outside, but I feel all warm and toasty. “Let’s go get some chestnuts, then.”
We each get two bags. I know it’s too much, but the festival is about to end and I don’t want to wait until next year to get a bag of roasted chestnuts.
“You up for a walk?” he asks when we’ve scarfed down most of the chestnuts. His smile is contagious, and I can’t help but grin back. “Wait. But the snowball fight.” Yoshi turns to me. “Are you okay if we don’t do the snowball fight?”
“Are you willing to live with the possibility that we might be the difference between making it into the Guinness World Records or not?” I ask. “Because I definitely am.”
Especially since it means that the rest of the festival will be less crowded.
We walk in silence, and all I can think about is the fact that I’m holding hands with a boy I like, and it’s the final night of a really successful Flurry Winter Festival, and we won’t have to move. It’s like the whole world is perfect for a little while as the sun dips behind the trees.
Except, I know it isn’t perfect. Nothing is. “I wanted to ask you how your dad is,” I say to Yoshi.
Yoshi gives my hand a tiny squeeze. “He’s doing okay,” he says, his voice heavy with caution.
“Really?” I ask.
“I think that now that the snow is here, he’s relieved. Plus, he and my mom really do love it here in Flurry.”
“That sounds encouraging,” I say, and he squeezes my hand again.
I think I really like holding hands.
“It is,” he agrees. “He’s also been seeing a therapist a couple of times a week, so that’s been helpful. Thanks for asking.”
“Of course,” I say.
We begin to walk again, our hands still linked. Our conversation feels very grown-up, and part of me wants to dive down into the snow and make a giant snow angel just like I’m sure the littles have been doing all day. In the distance, I can hear the roar of the giant snowball fight.
“What happens when the snowball fight finishes?” Yoshi asks.
“There’s a big closing ceremony,” I say. I think of the sleigh ride that would normally happen then. But surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt so much to think about missing out on the ride. And it actually gives me an idea.
“I want to make sure someone gets a picture of the five of us together,” I say. “You, me, Marcus, Kyle, and Lark.”
“Definitely,” Yoshi says.
We walk on. “Do you remember the story I told you about Lark and the climbing wall?” I ask. We’re heading past the food trucks, which are closed for business now. Soon we’ll be in Snowflake Park, and once we’re there …
Once we’re there, I’ll tell him how I feel, I promise myself.
“Of course I remember it. It’s a great story.”
I take a cue from Yoshi and pause, thinking about how I want to say all of this. I’m not sure it’ll come out right, but I think it’s important. “I feel like this festival was our climbing wall,” I start. “I feel like we all had things we needed to prove to ourselves, and we all did them.
“I think for me, it was discovering that I could stand up for my ideas and see them come to life. It would have been so easy to give up or let the grown-ups take over, but I’m glad I stuck with it.”
Yoshi nods, and without speaking, we move to a snow-covered bench and face each other. “I think for me it was becoming a part of things,” he says. “And telling you about my dad.”
I think about Marcus trying to find a place for himself in the school again, Kyle learning that he and Lark can be friends, even if they like each other in different ways, and Lark opening up to me about how she felt.
The sky isn’t fully dark, so we can’t see the stars, but I know they’re there. It’s a clear night, and if we can sit in the cold long enough, we’ll be treated to an amazing sight.
Which means it’s time to tell him.
“I have one more climbing-wall moment left,” I say. I want to look in his eyes, but I’m not that brave. I know it will be okay if he doesn’t feel the same way. I’ll be sad, but we’ll be able to make the friends thing work. But I really, really hope he does.
“Me too,” Yoshi says. “You go first.”
I take a deep breath. I can do this. “I wanted to tell you that I’m really glad you came to live in Flurry. That I’ve known for a while that you’re really fun to hang out with, but that in the last two weeks, I’ve really gotten to see that.” I take another breath. “Yoshi, I think I like you a lot.” Noooo, that’s not right. I cover my eyes with my gloves again, and then force myself to look at him. “Let me try again. I know I like you a lot. And I don’t know how you feel about me but …”
Yoshi eyes are focused on mine. “I like you, too,” he says. “A lot.”
My whole face heats up.
“Like a lot a lot? Or—”
“Like a lot a lot,” he admits.
“Really?” I ask. I know I shouldn’t be arguing, but what if I’m misunderstanding him?
“Like enough that I want to ask you if I could kiss you—”
I lean forward, his words propelling me, and my lips brush against his. I open my eyes, our faces so close together, and for a second I worry that he didn’t want to kiss me or didn’t want me to be the one to kiss him or …
But he smiles that tiny, hidden smile that I like so much, and then he leans forward until his lips hover over mine again. “Can we do that again?” he asks, and this time he takes the lead, and it’s gentle and sweet. I don’t know when he took off his gloves, but his warm hands are cupping my cold cheeks, and it makes the kiss that much more … everything.
Then we pull back, and the stars are lighting up the night sky. And I can’t believe how lucky I am to live in a town like Flurry.
Whether you’re creating them for outdoors or indoors, photo booths are easy and inexpensive to make on your own. It could be a temporary setup for a birthday party (or a winter festival!) or a more permanent setup in your home.
The Backdrop
Go simple: Use a blank wall or take pictures against a closed door. Taping wrapping paper to the wall can also create a uniform and temporary background, as can taping a large piece of fabric (or a sheet!) to the wall.
Go all out: Find a few large pieces of fabric and fold one end over about three inches and sew, or staple, down the line. Pick up a tension rod (available in the home section of most big stores) and use that to hang the fabric in doorways, over windows, etc. The rod can easily be taken down to change out the fabric. Be sure to ask an adult for help with these steps!
The Props
Go simple: Props such as fun hats and sunglasses can be purchased at most crafts stores, or online. If you want to make your own props, you can cut objects out of card stock or foam paper, and then tape or glue them to thin wooden sticks. Online, you can easily find patterns to trace for various kinds of hats, glasses, hair, lips, etc.
Go all out: Check out the thrift stores for costumes you can use for your photo booth. Carefully pop the lenses out of old glasses, and look for cool jackets, handbags, scarves, boas, ties, etc. Before wearing anything, make sure you clean it well!
The Signs
Go simple: Use the same paper you used to make the props, but write funny m
essages that can be held up. Arrows are always a popular choice, as are speech bubbles, thought bubbles, and hashtags.
Go all out: For signs that are a little less temporary, buy precut pieces of wood and paint them with chalk paint. With pieces of chalk or chalk markers, you can use the signs over and over again.
The Photos
Go simple: Prop up a camera, camera phone, or tablet, and use the timer. Take a few practice shots so you know exactly where people should stand. Otherwise, have a friend or family member be in charge of taking pictures.
Go all out: A selfie stick is the obvious choice if you’re using a camera phone, but you can also purchase special boxes that will hold the camera phone in place to take the picture.
Most importantly, have fun! When it comes to printing or posting the pictures, you can keep them exactly as they are, or use photo editing software that lets you mimic the effects of a real photo booth! And remember to check with a grown-up and be responsible when it comes to sharing photos anywhere.
Once again, I am awed by the number of people who are responsible for this book reaching your hands.
Aimee Friedman is the editor of my dreams. I learn so much about good writing from your edits and e-mails. Your support continues to be invaluable, but even more than that, your friendship is a true gift.
Rena Bunder Rossner is, as always, the type of agent every author dreams of having in their corner. Thank you for believing in me and my words.
The team at Scholastic has once again spoiled me for all others. Many, many thanks to David Levithan, Olivia Valcarce, Jael Fogle, Jennifer Rinaldi, Ann Marie Wong, Kristin Standley, Elizabeth Tiffany, Jody Corbett, and Natalia Remis.
My critique partners—Amy Pine, Megan Erickson, Lia Riley—are amazing and have kept me sane. I would be lost without you.
For this book, I’m grateful for the help especially of Jordy Heinrich, who was kind enough to share with me a tiny glimmer of what it’s like to live with cerebral palsy. I made Lark as extraordinary as I could, but she still isn’t nearly as fierce, strong, and generous as you. Thank you also to her parents, Inbar and Ken, and her fabulous siblings, Jonah and Noa.
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