Page 57 of Falling Like Snow

“I know, right?” I say, grinning at her.

“I heard it’s going to be High School Musical,” Parker says as we approach. As usual, her wire-framed glasses sit halfway down the bridge of her nose, and her frizzy brown hair is in two French braids, a mustard-yellow hat with a matching-colored pom-pom pulled over them.

I gasp. “Shut up. I would die. Who told you that?”

“She heard it from Dorothy, so take it with a grain of salt,” Sterling says from beside her, the breeze blowing their furry teal earmuffs.

Daphne frowns. “What does Dorothy know about the Bramble High musical? Sounds unreliable.”

“Psh, whatever. She’s a Gossip Girl! They know everything,” I argue. “I think it’s safe to start preparing for auditions now.”

Daphne laughs as we enter the winter wonderland. “I just want to play Sharpay.”

“We’ll need to have a smackdown for that role, then,” I tell her.

“It’s on,” she says, bumping her hip into mine.

We pass kids and families reading the story pages at the music stands along the trail. Sterling tells us about their family’s plans for winter break (flying to Arizona), Parker talks about her newest enemy (the lazy bag boy at the local market where she works) and refuses to talk about her recent breakup with her girlfriend, and Daphne bemoans the community theater’s production of Wicked ending before any of us had a chance to see it. And honestly, it’s so nice to have normal conversations that don’t revolve around cute boys, weird indecipherable feelings, or the Falling Snow Festival.

By the time we make it out of the woods, Daphne and I are howling with laughter while Parker reminds us of when we were in eighth grade and both forgot our lines on opening night and the community play somehow turned into an improv show about snickerdoodles and telepathy.

We were not invited to audition for any future productions.

Daph, Sterling, and Parker go to warm up by a heater, and I relieve Ellis of her photographer duties just as she’s finishing taking a picture of Dorothy sitting in the sleigh with her grandson, Harley.

After grabbing the camera, I help the elderly woman climb out, and the six-year-old tornado takes off running toward the reindeer enclosure with Ellis trailing behind.

“Thank you, dear,” Dorothy says, pulling her purple scarf over her chin. “It’s colder than my dead husband’s heart out here.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. I never knew her husband, but I’ve heard he sucked pretty bad. “Why don’t you go warm up by the heaters?”

“Because Harley is unaffected by the frigid temperatures. I have to keep close to him or he’ll probably end up riding off into the night on the back of a reindeer.”

“Seems like Ellis has him for a few. Go rest,” I tell her. “Oh, and we put a chest of blankets by the barn. You can borrow one of those, too.”

She pats my arm. “Thank you. Maybe I will.” I grin at her, but I’m taken aback when she suddenly frowns at me. “By the way, I’m going to need you to tell your boyfriend I don’t appreciate my walk with the girls being interrupted.”

I draw my eyebrows together, totally lost. But then it occurs to me that as a Gossip Girl, she has surely heard I’ve been hanging out with Micah. I laugh, remembering him playing coy with the elderly women at the soup kitchen. I imagine him striding up beside the Gossip Girls, trying to talk about the weather and giving them his best flirty eyes.

“It isn’t funny, Sloane,” Dorothy says. “He’s a very nice kid, but do you know why I live in Bramble Falls? Because, aside from Harley, it’s quiet. Tell him I like the quiet. I can’t hear my girls talk if he’s creating chaos.”

“Chaos?” I ask, not bothering to tell her Micah isn’t my boyfriend. “What exactly did he do?”

She looks at me like As if you don’t know, and shakes her head before trudging over to get a blanket.

I pull my phone from my coat pocket to text Micah. Partly because I want to know what he did to make sweet Dorothy so mad… and partly because I kind of just want an excuse to text him.

But then again, he hasn’t messaged me all day. So I put my phone away. Because I will not chase him like a desperate puck bunny.

A little while later, Jake comes over with some senior girl. The brunette climbs into the sleigh, and I whisper, “No Fern tonight?”

He raises a shoulder. “She knows where to find me if she’s interested.”

I grin and hold my fist out to him. “That’s the freaking spirit!”

He slowly bumps it with his. “Uh-huh…”

“Damn right. Now get in there with your girl.”