“Alright, alright,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But let’s start small, okay? Maybe we can help with decorations or something behind the scenes.” I don’t do a lot of sculpting or types of art other than drawing and painting occasionally. This would be a good chance to try another medium—even if it’s balloons and festooning.
Paige nods, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye that tells me this conversation is far from over. “Deal. For now.”
I’m okay with that deal. Because I really like being with her. This girl could be dangerous for me. I think I’d follow her anywhere.
Seven
NOAH
The community center bustles with activity as I push the heavy glass doors open, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the chilly December evening. Cheerful chatter and laughter echo down the hallways, a reminder of the various holiday activities taking place throughout the building.
Paige bounces beside me. Her energy is infectious, and I find myself smiling despite the nervousness churning in my stomach. I’ve never been one for committee meetings or public events, preferring the solitude of my skate rental trailer or the quiet of my home. But Paige had been so excited about volunteering for the Christmas Parade that I couldn’t bring myself to chicken out.
My ankle has improved a lot. Sam rolled his a couple of years ago, and he gave me the printout from the physical therapist. I’ve been doing the exercises and icing it regularly. I hardly notice it anymore.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Paige says, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “I haven’t been to a Christmas Parade committee meeting since I was a kid. Remember how magical the parades used to be?”
I nod, a faint memory stirring of watching the parade with my siblings. “Yeah, seems like a lifetime ago.”
Paige laughs, the sound as bright and cheery as sleigh bells. “Well, get ready for a trip down memory lane because I have a feeling this is going to be just as magical as we remember.”
The center of the meeting room is dominated by a long rectangular table surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs. I can see power outlets built into the table’s surface, a modern touch that seems at odds with the traditional small-town feel of Benton Falls. A whiteboard and projector screen hang on one wall, while a small refreshment station is set up at the other, the rich aroma of fresh coffee mingling with holiday scents.
People are already gathered around the table, their excited chatter filling the room. I recognize most of them—it’s hard not to in a town this size—but seeing them all together like this, united in a common purpose, makes me realize I may have been missing out on something.
Martha Hendricks, the city secretary, sits at the head of the table, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in its usual neat bun. Beside her is Emily Thorne, owner of the local flower shop. Her face lights up with a warm smile as she discusses something with Sarah Chen. Sarah, who runs the town’s optometry practice, is arranging a platter of Christmas cookies on the refreshment table while her husband, Mike, chats animatedly with Lucas Ramirez, the eldest son of the family that owns the best Mexican restaurant in town.
Paige immediately dives into the fray, greeting everyone with hugs and excited exclamations. I hang back, offering small smiles and nods to those who catch my eye. The noise and energy of the room are a bit overwhelming after the quiet of my usual routine, but I push down the urge to retreat.
“Noah. So glad you could make it,” Martha says, waving me over to an empty seat. “It’s about time we got some new blood on the committee.”
I feel a pang at her words, a reminder of all the years I’ve spent on the sidelines, watching but never participating. She probably doesn’t mean it that way. I’m just used to filtering things through the lens my parents created, where they say something that sounds nice but it’s actually a sharpened blade. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” I start to say, but Paige cuts in.
“Don’t be modest, Noah. I’m sure you have plenty of great ideas for the parade,” she says, her eyes shining with encouragement.
Before I can protestPaige’s comment, Martha calls the meeting to order, and everyone settles into their seats. I’m sandwiched between Paige and Lucas, feeling a bit like a fish out of water as Martha starts going through the agenda.
As the meeting progresses, ideas are tossed around rapid-fire. Themes are debated (though nothing is decided), logistics discussed, and volunteer positions assigned. I’m content to sit back and listen, occasionally nodding when asked for an opinion. But Paige is in her element, enthusiastically contributing ideas and offering to take on tasks.
“What about you, Noah?” Emily suddenly asks, pulling me out of my passive observation. “Any ideas for the parade this year?”
I freeze, feeling all eyes turn to me. My mind goes blank, panic rising in my throat. Paige’s hand lands on my arm, a gentle, reassuring touch, and suddenly, an idea bubbles to the surface.
“Well,” I start hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper, “what if we showcased local artists and their work? Maybe have a float with live painting demonstrations or display reproductions of artwork along the parade route.”
The room falls silent for a moment, and my face burns. My idea isn’t like anything they’ve ever done before. They have done a Main Square theme, but nothing like this. There are two galleries in town and a couple of artists who have cabins where they do their work. They mostly sell things online, though. I’ve always wanted to talk to one of them but haven’t had the guts to just walk up to their door and ring the bell.
“That’s brilliant!” Paige claps her hands. “We have so many talented artists in town; it would be a great way to highlight their work and add a unique touch to the parade.”
Suddenly, the room is buzzing with enthusiasm. Sarah suggests having local businesses sponsor different art installations, while Mike proposes a photography contest leading up to the parade. Lucas chimes in about incorporating live music performances to complement the visual art.
I sit there, stunned, as my small suggestion snowballs into a central theme for the entire parade. Martha is beaming, jotting down ideas as fast as people can voice them. “Noah, this is exactly the kind of fresh perspective we needed,” she says. “Would you be willing to take the lead on coordinating the parade?”
My stomach drops. Lead? Coordinate? That’s not what I signed up for. I open my mouth to decline, but Paige jumps in before I can speak. “We’d love to. In fact, why don’t Noah and I co-chair the parade committee this year? Between his artistic vision and my event planning experience, I think we could really make this parade something special.”
The room erupts in agreement, and before I know what’s happening, Paige and I are being appointed as co-chairs. My head is spinning, a mix of panic and disbelief washing over me. How did I go from reluctant participant to co-chair in the span of one meeting?
As the meeting wraps up and people start to file out, offering congratulations and ideas as they go, I feel like I can finally breathe again. The relief is short-lived as the reality of what just happened sets in.
