Nervously turning the gold band on my finger, I turn my gaze to Claire. I take a moment to admire how incredibly beautiful she is. Her dark hair flows down her back. Her blue eyes draw me in like they always do. She’s stunning.
Mildly infuriating, but stunning.
“So, is that why you need to get back to New York? Because you want to celebrate Christmas in the city?”
“No.”
“Okay…” I breathe out a long breath and try to calm myself. “Then why do we have to get back for Christmas?”
“The Sugar Plum Fairy in The City Ballet’s Christmas production ofThe Nutcrackerhas been my dream since I was five and saw the ballet with my mom.” She blinks back tears, and her nose makes a little sniffling sound. “Yesterday before the game, I was given the role after the dancer I was understudying hurt her ankle.”
“Wow. That’s incredible.”
“It was. Until we ended up here.” She throws her hands out and gestures around. “If we don’t get back, then everything I’ve worked for will have been a waste, and my chance at any other lead role in the futurewill be ruined.”
She blinks her eyes shut and takes a deep breath.
“I’m already missing rehearsals, at this rate I’ll be lucky if he hasn’t already given my part to another dancer.”
Looking down at my watch, I say, “It’s not even nine. I’m sure you haven’t lost the part yet.”
“Rehearsal starts at ten, so assuming we’re in the same time zone as New York, which, who could know because this place doesn’t show up on any map, I have one hour before I no-call no-show the biggest rehearsal of my entire dancing career.”
“Then we’ll get back,” I promise.
“In an hour?”
“Well, maybe not an hour, but we’ll get back in time for you to perform. I’m missing hockey too, so I get it, but it’s going to work out. I promise.”
She forces a smile and so do I. I’m not sure if I just lied to her or told her the truth, and that’s a very humbling thought.
Chapter 17: Candy-Colored Hell
Claire
Ihope Everett is right, but if falling in love with one another is the answer, then I fear we are most certainly fucked.
Turning a curve in the sidewalk, we make it to the entrance of a small town square. The street sign reads Main Street, and a large mural painted on the exterior side of the first shop greets us.Sugarplum Park: The Sweetest Town There Ever Wasis written in large, curly letters and is surrounded by pastel colored sweets. Different lightly-colored buildings line either side of the long street. Each store front is adorned with a large window, giving each passerby a glimpse of what’s inside. Garland and wreaths decorate the lamp posts that are perfectly spaced down the cobblestone sidewalk as far as the eye can see. It looks like we stepped into a holiday card. It’s the quintessential Christmas town, and despite never being here before, there is something oddly familiar about it.
“Sugarplum Park?” Everett questions pointing at the wall. “I think you may be right. It’s like we stepped into candy-colored Hell.”
“More like Candyland,” I say, gesturing towards a fudge shop called The Chocolate Bar, and then across the street to Gum Drop Sugar Shop. “Maybe she’s trying to help you find your Christmas spirit.”
“If that’s the case, then this is a really dramatic way of doing that,” he says.
“Morning, Everett. Hi, Claire,” a tall stranger says as he walksby us. He’s wearing a long, khaki trench coat, chocolate-colored pants, and an argyle scarf. A brown fedora sits on top of his dark hair. His umber skin is smooth, and round olive glasses rest on his nose, framing his dark brown eyes. A newspaper is tucked under his arm.
We both offer him a wave and watch as he crosses the street toward the candy shop.
“Should we follow him?” Everett asks.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because he seems to know who we are, and he’s holding a paper that could give us more information about where we are.”
“Okay, Sherlock. How do you suggest we ask him any of those things without sounding like we’ve gone insane?”
“I have a way with people.”
