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“One kit per family! Just one kit!” Mrs. O’Leary called as she walked up and down the rows, passing out the starter packs for a basic gingerbread house on a budget—a square of thick cardboard wrapped in foil, a box of graham crackers, and a tub of frosting.

We picked a station at one of the tables, and Mrs. O’Leary handed us our supplies. “Welcome, Costa family. Have fun!”

Mom smiled at Mrs. O’Leary. “Thanks for putting this together, Mandy.”

“Of course. You know I love it.” Mrs. O’Leary moved on to the next family.

I wasn’t sure how my mom felt about Mrs. O’Leary. The woman was intense, not to mention she was friends with Mrs. Moreno. I sometimes saw them on morning walks together through our neighborhood. And Mrs. O’Leary seemed to know everything about everyone. That’s what came with being the leading voice in the town council, apparently. But she also seemed to be genuinely nice. I trusted my mom’s opinion when it came to people’s characters, though; she saw things others didn’t sometimes.

“Did you complain to Mrs. O’Leary about the Morenos’ music the other day?” I whispered to Mom.

“I didn’t!” Mom said. “Other houses must also play loud music because otherwise I doubt she would’ve put out an official memo. She would’ve just talked to Andrea—Mrs. Moreno.”

“Yeah, true,” I said.

Momma lifted the foil-wrapped cardboard. “Do we want to do a theme? For our house?”

“Wizard of Oz!” Harris said.

Momma’s mouth turned down as though impressed. “I like it.”

“Go collect all the green candy from the table,” Mom said, opening the package of graham crackers.

“I’m in charge of frosting,” Harris said.

Marcus was pulling another package of crackers out of the now open box. Momma was looking at her phone, mumbling, “Let’s find a good picture of Oz for inspiration.”

“How about we do Dorothy’s house?” I said. “With the Wicked Witch’s legs sticking out the bottom and the yellow brick road leading away?” My mind could already picture the scene.

“Yes! A smashed witch!” Harris said.

“Fun,” Momma agreed.

“I’ll look for black licorice for the legs and some yellow M&M’s for the road,” I said, heading for the candy table fifty feet away.

I walked up one side of the gazebo just as someone else was walking up the opposite. Ryan. I took an involuntary step back, and my gaze immediately shot to my family, who were still very much preoccupied with their gingerbread-house planning.

Ryan looked at them as well and then said, “You’re not allowed to talk to me?”

“Yes. I mean, no, I’m … not.”

“Like, officially?”

“Pretty much. You?”

“It’s more of a vibe.”

“The vibe is that I’m off-limits?”

“Very.” He gave a shrug as if to say Sorry or maybe it was a shrug that said he didn’t understand … or didn’t care? I couldn’t exactly read his body language.

“Are they here? Your parents?” I finished my walk to the candy table and rooted around in the packages. A pair of little hands shot in front of mine, grabbing hold of the Hershey’s Kisses with a laugh and then running away.

“No. I’m here with my aunt and cousin.” Ryan nodded behind him. There were a lot of tables and a lot of families. I couldn’t pick out his.

I found a pack of red Twizzlers but couldn’t find any black licorice. Red would have to do. Then I tried to find some regular M&M’s, but it seemed there were only Christmas-themed ones.

“Are you still mad at me about the other night?” Ryan asked.