Page 63 of Pining for You

“Perfect, I’ll tell Naomi I’m staying at yours,” I say to Diya, and that settles one thing.

Except I still haven’t answered my mother. I’m going to have to somehow send her a message that I’m not going to be home tonight, while also avoiding her question. But one thing at a time.

“The forecast is clear for the morning,” Izaac says, looking at his phone.

“Yeah, Seichi said it’s supposed to stop snowing around two a.m.,” Diya says (and I briefly wonder when they’ve been texting).

“Usually they get the trains back up and running pretty quickly, but you should give yourselves some wiggle room for delays,” Audra instructs, and we nod.

“So. Back to where that leaves us tonight…,” Cash reminds the group.

Everyone is quiet. Considering options? Internally melting down? Plotting my murder? This mess is obviously all my fault. If I had just gotten her number, or met a nice girl from Ripton, none of this would be happening. I rub the bridge of my nose and shiver.

“Well, we can’t think on an empty stomach,” Izaac says finally.

If Izaac is the one suggesting food, things must really be getting dire. Usually the dude can operate on adrenaline and ideas. We never did get that pizza before, between the market and Bootgate.

“Agreed,” Audra says, stepping in. “Let’s find somewhere to regroup.” If things weren’t so bleak, I’d point out her little brother said those exact words, in this exact place, literal hours ago.

“We will have food, for real this time?” Cash asks me, when everyone else has started walking.

“Yes, buddy. We will have food.”

“Are you positive?”

I put my arm through his and, for a moment, squint against the falling snow.

“Well, I’m… hopeful.”

And right now, that feels pretty big.

19

My mom always says that I’m great at compartmentalization. I still don’t know if this is a compliment or an insult, but tonight, it feels like the only option for communicating with my mother. I can’t get too deep down the rabbit hole of whether I’ll go with her on “Friday,” because then we might not make it through tonight. I need my head in the game, to focus and prioritize, and I don’t multitask well (as evidenced yesterday).

Which is why I pull out my phone just before we start walking away from the bakery and fire off a message to Naomi without overthinking. I need to get the message to her ASAP. I can’t risk that she’ll get off early and write back right away—or worse, call me.

Hey sorry but my phone is about to die. (I know, I’m the worst!) Staying at Diya’s tonight. See you at the Bazaar!

And… if she does, I’m going to do my best to put it in one of those compartments and not open it. It won’t do any good now, anyway. I still haven’t made a decision. I’m not sure if today’s events will make a difference, but I haven’t had a chance to process them either way.

I hit send and fall in line. We follow Audra away from the bakery, trundling along in the accumulating powder like the puppies in 101 Dalmatians fleeing Cruella’s estate as hipsters in fingerless gloves play games of snowball catch. Young dads wearing cooler versions of the caps we have at Cooper are dragging sleds behind them, giving their miniature Brooklynites a ride. Restaurants are brimming with people taking advantage of blizzard dinner specials advertised on sandwich boards with quippy lines.

It’s the kind of thing I should be filming, the holiday spirit cutting through even the most chaotic storm. But whether it’s having to think about Naomi and Michelle or that I just used up the last burst of optimism by trying to rally everyone—or maybe I’m just straight-up hangry—I’m getting kind of irritable.

Earlier today, it seemed like everywhere I looked with a wide lens I saw magic, but found misery when I zoomed in. Now, with the rest of the world oblivious to our catastrophe and awash in holiday cheer, it’s easier to see how people become annoyed during the season, when they can’t share in the lightness of others, because their own world feels heavy and dark.

But even though I’m feeling like the burnt-out bulb in a string of twinkle lights, my subconscious won’t stop soundtracking my thoughts with holiday classics. At the moment, “Joy to the World” starts playing on a loop in my head—which feels ironic. Then a minute later I realize that Diya is humming it too.

“Whooooa,” I say, brightening at the mind meld. “That song just started on my mental playlist!! How are you in my head?”

“No, B.” She glares at me like I’ve finally gone nutty. She points a finger to the sky, and I realize the song is actually playing somewhere close by. And just as I’m making the connection, we approach the now familiar turn onto Court Street and Cash sticks his nose in the air, sniffing deeply.

“What is it, boy?” Izaac probes, and scratches behind Cash’s ear.

“Something… grilling?” he answers.

“No,” Diya says, turning her own nose up into the air. “It’s tree sap! Don’t you smell the pine?”