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“Yeah, but who knows if it’ll still happen after this year.” He sighed. “Everything seems so up in the air right now.”
In so many more ways than you could possibly know, Sam.
I still hadn’t told him or Jo about the Adventure Italy Acad-emy. Technically, I hadn’t even confirmed with the travel group that I would be going. It just didn’t feel right to say anything. Not yet.
“So…” I swallowed, trying to process what my best friend might actually be proposing. “You’re telling me you want to go to the ball now?” I asked him.
He dropped his gaze to his boots. “I mean, only if you…erm, you guys planned on going. Or something.”
I had only ever seen Sam in jeans, except for the occasional “nice outfit” for holiday church services. The thought of him wearing dress pants and a tie made my stomach do unexpected flip-flops.
Wait.
What was I doing?
Sam was my best friend. I wasn’t supposed to think those kinds of things or feel all those fizzy bubbles around him. If he and I changed, if we both took that leap, it could totally ruin the friendship.
Could I really take that risk? What if it didn’t work out?
Would we be able to go back to being just friends?
Or worse: What if one of us could but the other couldn’t?
The thought of not having Sam in my life filled me with such a hollow, cold emptiness that it made it hard to breathe.
Slow down, G.
He probably didn’t even think of me that way.
He had mentioned both me and Jo when he spoke about the dance, so clearly it would be a group thing.
Right?
A text alert chimed all around us in the shop. Normally, no one would take out their phone to check a message during class since the state banned cell phone use in schools, but if we all got a message at the same time, then it must’ve come from the same place.
The Mullings Creek Remind App.
And sure enough, the notification on my lock screen proved me right.
Emergency Meeting at Town Hall Tonight. 7 PM.
Chapter Five
“Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to.”
—Miracle on 34th Street
Tourists often said that Mullings Creek felt like a trip back in time to when things were “slower” and “more meaningful.” That our small town was like something out of a movie, especially during the winter holiday season. Maybe it was our wreaths and garlands on every light pole, or the white twinkle lights draped over two dozen bare crepe myrtles lining both sides of the street, or the warm Christmas displays unique to each shop in their front windows. Whatever the reason, we knew how to really shine during the month of December.
But the one place that didn’t have the same coziness was always Town Hall. Yes, it had wreaths on its two wooden front doors, and sure, the poinsettias from Sam’s family looked great lining the walk up to those doors, but inside, it felt like a scary doctor’s office.
Bare.
Cold.
Sterile.
Definitely not the place I wanted to be to hear the fate of my favorite place in town.
