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He kept looking at me and then back toward the Bennetts’ yard like he could follow the direction of my eyes to the mouse. But I wasn’t looking at the mouse, I was taking in the lit-up Christmas tree in the window. It was stunning.

“I hope the Cherry Ridge lights aren’t all you love about Christmas,” Ryan said, “because this might be the last year our town gets to do these decorations, at least on this scale.”

“Wait. What?” I asked. “What do you mean?” I couldn’t explain the sense of dread that took over my emotions.

“The city is getting sued for noise and light pollution, plus traffic control.”

My mouth fell open, and I snapped it shut. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Yeah, crazy, huh?”

“But who? Who is suing us? Scrooge?”

Ryan shrugged. “That’s not public right now. I guess it hasn’t been officially filed. But my dad has heard some rumors around the courthouse for the last several months.” His dad was a lawyer so that made sense. “It seems like whoever is bringing this complaint might actually have a legitimate claim. A case serious enough that my dad thinks this could be the last year for all this, at least to this extent. That’s why Mrs. O’Leary is doing the whole contest. One last stand or something.”

“No,” I said.

“No?” Ryan said.

“This can’t be the last year.”

“I mean, I kind of understand. It took me an hour to get home from the library tonight. We’re all trapped here during December.”

“You’re on Scrooge’s side?”

“What? No, of course not. I think it sucks. But it’s not like Christmas is canceled or anything.”

Then why did it suddenly feel like exactly that? “No,” I said again. “This can’t happen.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

“Can you find out?”

“If we have a choice? Pretty sure we don’t.”

“No, I mean, can you find out who is suing the city?” I asked.

“Nothing has happened yet. Until they actually sue, it won’t be public record.”

I turned on my heel, walking back toward my house.

“Jasmine! Where is the mouse?”

“It’s on top of the porch!” I said but didn’t stop walking.

“Oh!” Ryan said behind me, obviously finding it. Then he was at my side again. “I can’t believe I missed the mice all these years.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I said.

He tilted his head, maybe because I’d said that sentence in a short, snappy tone. “Are you mad?”

“About our holiday lights being shut off? Are you not?”

“Maybe the case will never get to court. And even if it does, I don’t think they’ll be completely shut off. Just dimmed.”

“Dimmed? That’s better?”

“Yes?” he said, his voice like a question.