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Are you in trouble? was his next text.

Not yet…

I watched as he opened his curtains, waved at me, then took down the sign. Then he pressed his hand to the glass. I returned the gesture.

He shut his curtains and his room went dark. I twisted away from the window and leaned against the wall with a happy sigh.

“All of us,” Mom said.

“All of us?” I asked.

It had snowed again that day, and Harris wanted to build a snowman after school. So we were all in our front yard doing just that. To make sure it didn’t interfere with our decorations, we were building it close to the house, by the porch. Like a welcome symbol.

Mom had just told us that her holiday office party was for the whole family, not only for her and Momma like she had originally told us weeks ago. She seemed excited about this.

“You have something else on Friday?” Marcus asked me, clearly noticing my stricken expression.

“I … uh, need to work on my painting.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes at me.

“We didn’t go to the office party last year,” I tried instead.

“Mr. Wakefield changed it last minute because everyone was saying how they didn’t want to leave their families this close to the holiday,” Mom explained. “So, he moved the location to his house, and everyone is welcome now.” She clapped her hands together like this was the best thing in the world.

“Sounds fun, Mom,” Marcus said, smirking in my direction. He was just being spiteful now. He must’ve guessed I had plans with Ryan.

“I found the arms!” Harris said, rounding the corner from the backyard with a stick in each hand.

“That works for you too, Jaz?” Mom asked.

“One is a little bigger than the other,” I said, pointing to Harris’s sticks.

“No,” Mom said. “The office party. I’m RSVPing now.” She held up her phone.

“I should probably work on my painting.”

“This is my last year here, sis,” Marcus said. “And you’re going to ditch out on a party?”

I shoved his arm. “You’re the worst.”

“No, you are,” he said, his tone stabbing me in the heart. He was still mad at me, and I wasn’t sure what to do to make it okay. Would he eventually come around?

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.”

“Its head is too small,” Harris said, fists on hips, staring up at our completed snowman.

Mom plopped a beanie on its head. “It fits perfectly.”

Momma’s car pulled into the driveway just as I stuck the second stick arm into the snowman’s side. She stepped out, wearing her navy-blue scrubs with little candy canes on them.

“A snowman! I love it!” she said as Harris ran to give her a hug.

“Everyone can go to the holiday party,” Mom told her.

Momma smiled. “That’s great! See, I knew they’d want to.” She squeezed my hand as she stepped up to my side.

“How was work?” I asked.