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“That’s what I thought!” Mrs. Moreno said.

“Mind your own business!” Marcus yelled.

“Gladly!” she called back.

This time I took Marcus’s arm before he said anything else.

“They’re horrible,” he said under his breath as we walked together inside.

“What happened?” I asked Mom, who was now in the kitchen downing a glass of water.

“Nothing,” she said. “I shouldn’t have spoken to her. We’re supposed to be no contact.”

“Mom,” Marcus said. “Just tell us what happened.”

“I asked Mrs. Moreno nicely if she could turn down her music tonight. Or do the radio thing again. I mean, why does she get to pick the music for our whole street? Maybe people want to provide their own soundtrack for their viewing experience.” My mom was highly opinionated, but I had never seen her get as worked up as when she talked about the Moreno family.

“Right?” Marcus said. “I agree.”

“Thank you!” Mom said.

I folded my arms across my chest. This was all my fault for bringing up the music the other night when I was trying to change the subject.

Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry. Don’t follow my example. We are ignoring them. Right?”

“Agreed,” Marcus said.

“Okay. I need to go pick up Harris from his playdate.” Mom left, but Marcus was staring at me.

“What?” I said.

“You didn’t agree,” he said.

“What?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You didn’t agree to ignore the Morenos. Are you planning something sinister? I want in.”

“No,” I said with an eye roll. “I’m not. I agree.” I said those last two words in a mousy voice without intending to.

“You don’t agree! You’re going to do something. Don’t you dare leave me out.”

“You told Mom you wouldn’t talk to them.”

“I lied,” he said.

So did I. But for completely different reasons.

The next day there was a red flyer tucked into everyone’s door. It read: If you’re playing music as part of your holiday decorations, please keep it at respectable levels.—Mandy O’Leary

Had Mom talked to Mrs. O’Leary? The Morenos weren’t going to be happy about that.

Chapter 10

It was the day of the gingerbread-house building—the first Saturday activity of the season. The town square was teeming with bundled-up people when I arrived with my family.

Momma plopped one package of peppermints and another of red and green M&M’s onto the candy table under the gazebo that was already piled high with offerings. Then we looked for an open spot at one of the long plastic-covered tables that filled the square.

Along with the planned holiday activity, there was always a craft market set up. People were selling typical wintertime goods—scarves and jams and homemade ornaments—for tourists and locals alike.