Page 38

“You can go,” I hissed. “Sneak out.”

“Follow me in five?” he asked, his eyes hopeful. “Meet me by my car?”

I nodded, and he slunk away, leaving his trash on the table.

I shook my head but smiled. I would’ve done the same in my rush to escape.

“Santa Baby” sounded through the speakers overhead as I put his trash into the empty bag and added it to our pile on the tray. Mrs. O’Leary stepped up to the cash register, and I used the opportunity to get up with my tray and head to the garbage can.

There was a line at the trash, though, two little kids attempting to throw away a big pile of half-eaten food and half-full drinks. One of those drinks slid off the tray and onto the floor, sending a spray of dark-colored pop onto my light-colored jeans before it landed on the floor and spilled the rest of its contents there.

“Sorry!” the little boy yelled up at me. He reminded me of Harris.

“It’s okay,” I said, righting the cup and adding a stack of napkins from my tray onto the spreading liquid.

A woman who must’ve been their mom appeared. “What happened?” she asked the little girl.

“He dropped it.”

The woman sighed. “I’ll find a mop.”

I stood up from my squat and was about to advance to the garbage can when a woman’s voice behind me said, “Jasmine? Is that you?”

“Hi, Mrs. O’Leary,” I said, turning around and feeling myself start to sweat. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, waiting out the crowds.”

“Yes, I do know,” I said.

“Your decorations are so nice this year. The snow globe is so interesting.” Why did she say that with such a condescending voice? Did she not like our homemade decorations either?

“Thanks. I like yours too.” Mrs. O’Leary’s yard was always very traditional. It had a lit-up snowman, a lit-up Christmas present, and a lit-up ornament, plus lights all over the roof and snaking up every tree. She also housed the donation hut in her front yard, a little red kiosk where visitors could make donations. Those donations were used for the community activities.

“Who was that you were sitting with earlier?” she asked. “Was it—”

“Just someone from school,” I interrupted. “I don’t think you know him; he lives in Mountain Glen.”

“I know lots of people from Mountain Glen,” she said.

The tray in my hand was starting to feel heavy in my grip. I nodded to it and took the last remaining steps to the garbage can as an excuse to end the conversation. It helped that one of the workers came right at that moment with a mop and bucket.

“I’ll see you soon, Mrs. O’Leary,” I said around the worker.

“Yes, hon, take care. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” I dumped my trash and rushed out the door.

A slap of wind and the smell of frigid air hit me in the face. I ducked my head and walked in the direction of the parked cars, not knowing exactly where Ryan’s was. My eyes started to water from the cold.

“Psst,” I heard to my right as I passed his car. I whirled back around and to the passenger side where I climbed in.

“Hey,” I said, out of breath. The car was warm, and I put my hands up to the vents to warm them even more.

“Were you talking to Mrs. O’Leary?” he asked.

He must’ve seen me through the window.

“She cornered me at the trash. She saw us, by the way, but I told her you were someone else.”