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Chapter 36

It was late, it was snowing, and I hadn’t heard from Ryan all day.

There was only one thing to do: I had to climb Ryan’s ladder and knock on his window.

I needed to talk to him about the snow globe accusations—how I knew it wasn’t him. And about everything else. But he wasn’t responding to my texts. I had even put a note in my window asking him to text me back. He either hadn’t seen it or was ignoring me.

I had no other choice.

I stood by my closet, studying my shoes. Which had the best traction? My boots, probably. I pulled them out and tossed them on the floor by my bed. Then I yanked a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, and a winter coat off their hangers and got to work layering them on my body. I checked Ryan’s window again. Nothing.

I pulled on a pair of sweats and then my socks and boots.

I could do this.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I marched with determination to my door. Everything was quiet in the hallway. I crept down the stairs. The whole house was quiet. I had waited until everyone was asleep (or at least, I hoped they were all asleep) to enact this plan.

I walked to the front door. The mess of crumbled cookies on the floor had been cleaned up at some point. As I stepped outside into the cold, I thought about scaling the fence nearest Ryan’s shed. But I changed my mind when I saw the snow resting along the top. Instead, I let myself in through his side gate.

The drag marks my moms had referred to earlier were gone, probably smoothed out by the wind and covered by the snow.

The Morenos kept their ladder in the shed. That’s where I had seen Ryan return it. My heart was racing a mile a minute thinking about scaling the ladder. The wind was blowing and the snow was swirling, and the moisture around my eyes seemed to freeze between blinks. I pulled the scarf I wore higher, covering my mouth, and reached for the shed door.

I was so nervous but also excited to talk to Ryan. I knew that if we could just talk, we could figure this out, work through last night. I could convince him I hadn’t come to the ball to find out who was suing the city. I’d come for him. And we could talk about what had happened earlier in the front yard and how we could make our parents get along.

I carefully pulled on the handle to slide the shed door open, but it wouldn’t budge. I studied the handle for a lock. There wasn’t one. I tried the handle again, looking down at the tracks to see if anything was preventing it from opening. It seemed clear of debris so I tugged harder. I put my whole body into it. Finally it broke free of whatever was holding it back and opened with a loud, echoey bang against the metal side.

I didn’t have time to stress about that, though. Because when I shone my phone light into the shed in search of the ladder, my heart sank to my feet.

The snow globe was there, or at least what was left of it—mangled plastic, PVC pipes, and the replica of my house, crushed and folded and shoved into the shed like it meant nothing. Like I hadn’t spent hours of my life creating it and thinking about how to make it better this year. My frozen eyes produced hot tears.

“You think we stole your decorations too?” a voice said from behind me. “Thanks.”

I whipped around, my light coming with me and now shining on the angry face of Ryan. He squinted against the brightness, and I lowered the light to his knees. He probably couldn’t see what was behind me in the dark shed.

“I didn’t think you did, but I guess I was wrong.” I choked up.

“Then why are you here, checking the shed?” he asked.

I couldn’t say more past the lump in my throat.

“Just go,” he said, his voice resigned.

He was right. I needed to go. I turned my phone and lit up the remnants of the snow globe all while keeping my gaze on his face. It was hard to see his expression in the dark, but his mouth opened in apparent surprise.

“I’m going,” I said and walked away.

“Wait, Jasmine!” he called. “I didn’t touch your snow globe! I didn’t put that in here. I promise.”

“Okay,” I said but didn’t stop.

He ran around in front of me. “I didn’t. Maybe your family put it there to try to frame us.”

My face flushed. “You think my family destroyed one of our favorite decorations to frame you? What would be the point in that?”

“I don’t know. They hate us. That would be the point.”

“We’re not like that.”