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I was startled out of my thoughts as loud music suddenly rang out from the Moreno house. Christmas music. The lights danced to the beat of the song.

Mom appeared on the porch with her hands over her ears. “What is that?” she yelled.

I pointed to the Moreno house, where I could now see the speakers on their front porch.

“Seriously?” she said. “Didn’t they have people tune into a radio station last year? They decided not to give people a choice this year?” She looked ready to march over there.

“No contact,” I reminded her.

“It’s like they know I declared that and are doing this just to bug us.”

“Probably,” I agreed.

“What are you still doing out here?” she asked me.

“Trying to decide if we need more.”

“More?”

“For the competition.”

“Our house looks amazing, Jasmine.”

“I have this project for art class,” I explained. “If I think of something that will look really unique for my painting, can I try to incorporate it into our display? Before Christmas Eve.”

“Only if you want to. We’ll help.” Mom looked at the Morenos’ yard again. “You really think they’re going to do something extra? Aside from the extra loud music.”

I opened my mouth to tell her about the ridiculous live reindeer idea but clamped my mouth shut.

“What?” she asked.

Why didn’t I want to tell her? Because the reindeer probably weren’t going to happen? Because I felt like I was giving away insider information and that somehow made me feel bad? No, it couldn’t be that last one. I had zero loyalty to Ryan Moreno.

“I just think winning the competition would be really cool,” I said instead.

“It would be,” Mom said, pulling the edges of her robe together as wind whipped around us. “Brrr. Feels like snow is coming. Let’s go in.”

I looked up at the black sky. It was a perfectly clear night. I didn’t think snow was coming at all, but I hoped I was wrong. It hadn’t snowed yet this year. And we needed a white Christmas. That was a must when creating Christmas magic.

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” I said as Mom slipped inside. The music next door seemed to get louder, or maybe the song changed. It made my teeth hurt. Maybe it wasn’t the song that made them hurt but the fact that I was clenching my teeth. I tried to relax my jaw.

I moved to go inside, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure emerge from the Moreno house. Ryan. He paused halfway down his walkway to look at our decorations. He stood staring for several minutes. I wondered why. What was he examining? Was he mentally making fun of our homemade offerings again?

When he was done with his assessment, he kept walking all the way to the sidewalk, where he opened his mailbox.

We probably had mail too, I decided, quick-walking off the porch and down the path. My eyes met Ryan’s, and he gave me a hesitant wave.

My hand seemed glued to my side, but that felt petty. He had no idea that my mom had declared no contact. So I waved back.

He yelled something I couldn’t hear over the music. I held my hand to my ear to indicate that I had no idea what he’d said. He looked toward his house, then took several steps toward mine.

I checked to make sure my moms weren’t peering out the window, and then took a few steps toward Ryan. We were still a good thirty feet from each other, but this time I could hear him when he said, “There are mice looking into your snow globe!”

“They’re the neighborhood mice,” I said. “There are forty.”

His brows went down, and then he was studying the yard again. “Forty?”

“Not just in our yard. Throughout the town. The visitors count them.”