Текст книги "Let It Snow"

Автор книги: John Green

Соавторы: John Green,Lauren Myracle,Maureen Johnson
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Fourteen

Christina? Not an option. She got dropped off this morning by her boyfriend, per usual. Joyce, the barista whose shift just started, was also without car. Joyce walked to work no matter what the weather was like and wore one of those personal pedometers to measure how many steps she took.

Hmm, hmm, hmm. Not Dorrie and not Tegan, because (a) their street was still being plowed (hopefully), and (b) no way was I going to tell them why I needed said car.

Not Brenna, heaven forbid. If I asked her to take me to the south end of town, she’d drive north just to spite me. And she’d blast her reggae-emo-fusion crap, which sounded like drugged-out ghouls.

Which left only one person. One evil, charming, too-handsome-for-his-own-good person. I kicked a whump of snow, because he was the last person in the world I ever wanted to call, ever ever ever.

Well, guess what? I told myself. You’re going to have to suck it up for the sake of Tegan. Either that, or say bye-bye to Gabriel forever.

I flipped opened my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and jabbed CALL. I clenched my toes inside my boots as I counted rings. One ringie-dingie, two ringie-dingies, three ringie—

“Yo, mama!” Charlie said when he picked up. “S’up?”

“It’s Addie,” I said. “I need a ride, and I’m only asking because I have absolutely no other choice. I’m outside Pet World. Come pick me up.”

“Someone’s bossy this morning,” Charlie said. I could practically hear him waggle his eyebrows. “I like it.”

“Whatever. Just come get me, will you?”

He lowered his voice. “What’ll you give me in return?”

“A free chai,” I said flatly.

“Venti?”

I tightened my jaw, because the way he said it, even “venti” sounded lewd.

“Fine, a venti chai. Have you left yet?”

He chuckled. “Hold on, babe. I’m still in my skivvies. My venti skivvies, and not because I’m fat, but because I’m”—ridiculous, loaded pause—“venti.”

“Just get over here,” I said. I started to hang up, then thought of one last thing. “Oh—and bring a phone book.”

I hung up, did a shake-it-off shudder, and despised myself all over again for fooling around with such a skeeze. Yes, he was hot—in theory—and once upon a time, I suppose, I’d even found him funny.

But he wasn’t Jeb.

Dorrie had summed up the difference between them one night at a party. Not the party, but just a normal, pre-breakup party. Dorrie and I were slouching on a sofa, rating a bunch of guys according to their strengths and weaknesses. When we got to Charlie, Dorrie let out a sigh.

“The problem with Charlie,” she said, “is that he’s too charming, and he knows it. He knows he can have any girl in the grade—”

“Not me,” I interjected, balancing my drink on my knee.

“—so he sails through life like a typical trust-fund baby.”

“Charlie has a trust fund? I didn’t know that.”

“But what that means, sadly, is that he has no depth. He’s never had to work for anything in his life.”

“I wish I didn’t have to work for anything,” I said wistfully. “I wish I had a trust fund.”

“No, you don’t,” Dorrie said. “Are you even listening?” She took my drink, and I made a sound of protest.

“Take Jeb, for instance,” Dorrie said. “Jeb is going to grow up to be the kind of man who spends his Saturdays teaching his little boy to ride a bike.”

“Or little girl,” I said. “Or twins! Maybe we’ll have twins!”

“Charlie, on the other hand, will be off playing golf while his kid kills people on his Xbox. Charlie will be dashing and debonair, and he’ll buy his kid all kinds of crap, but he’ll never actually be there.”

“That is so sad,” I said. I reclaimed my drink and took a long sip. “Does that mean his kid will never learn to ride a bike?”

“Not unless Jeb goes over and teaches him,” Dorrie said.

We sat. For several minutes, we watched the guys play pool. Charlie’s ball hit its mark, and Charlie pulled his fist in by his side.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he crowed. “Ice, baby!”

Jeb looked across the room at me, and his lips twitched. I felt warm and happy, because the message in his eyes was, You’re mine and I’m yours. And thank you for not using expressions like “Ice, baby.”

A twitch of the lips and a loving look . . . what I wouldn’t give to have that back. Instead, I threw it all away for the guy who was rumbling into the parking lot this very second in his ridiculous gray Hummer.

He pulled up short, spraying me with snow.

“Hey,” he said, powering down the window. He jerked his chin at my hair and grinned. “Look at you, Pink!”

“Stop smiling at me,” I warned him. “Don’t even look at me.” I trudged to the passenger side and heaved myself in, straining my quads. I felt like I was climbing into a tank, which, basically, I was.

“Did you bring the phone book?”

He flicked it with his finger, and I saw that it was resting on the seat beside me. I found the residential section and flipped to the Bs. Baker, Barnsfeld, Belmont . . .

“I’m glad you called,” Charlie said. “I’ve missed you.”

“Shut up,” I said. “And no, you haven’t.”

“You’re being awfully mean toward someone who’s giving you a ride,” he said. I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Adds. Ever since you broke up with Jeb—and I’m sorry about that, by the way—I’ve been hoping we could, you know, give it a go.”

“That’s not going to happen, and seriously, shut up.”

“Why?”

I ignored him. Bichener, Biggers, Bilson . . .

“Addie,” Charlie said. “I dropped everything to come pick you up. Think you could at least talk to me?”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re an asshat.”

He guffawed. “Since when have you been hanging out with JP Kim?” He shut the phone book, and I just barely managed to keep my finger in it to mark my place.

“Hey!” I said.

“Seriously, why don’t you want to go out with me?” he asked.

I lifted my head and glared. Surely he knew how much I regretted our kiss, and how much I hated just being here in this ridiculous Hummer with him. But as I took in his expression, I faltered. Was that . . . ? Oh good grief. Was that plaintiveness in those green eyes?

“I like you, Addie, and you know why? ’Cause you’re zesty.” He said “zesty” with the same intentional cheesiness as when he’d said “venti.”

“Don’t call me zesty,” I said. “I am not zesty.”

“You’re zesty, all right. And you’re a good kisser.”

“That was a mistake. That was me being drunk and stupid.” My throat closed, and I had to gaze out the window until I pulled myself together. I turned back and attempted to divert the conversation. “Anyway, what happened to Brenna?”

“Brenna,” he mused. He leaned back against the headrest. “Brenna, Brenna, Brenna.”

“You’re still into her, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “She seems to be . . . involved with someone else, as I’m sure you know. At least, that’s what she tells me. I, myself, can’t see it.” He swiveled his head. “If you had the choice, would you pick Jeb over me?”

“In a heartbeat,” I said.

“Ouch,” he said. He gazed at me, and beneath his posturing, I saw that plaintiveness again. “Once, Brenna would have picked me. But I was a cad.”

“Um, yeah,” I said glumly. “I was there. I was an even bigger cad.”

“Which is why we’d be great together. We might as well make lemonade, right?”

“Huh?”

“Out of our lemons,” he explained. “Which is us. We’re the lemons.”

“Yeah, I got the reference. I just . . . ” I didn’t finish my sentence. If I had, it would have gone something like, “I just didn’t know you saw yourself that way. As a lemon.”

He snapped out of it. “So what do you say, Pink? Trixie’s having a rocking New Year’s Eve party. Want to go?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He put his hand on my thigh. “I know you’re having a rough time. Let me comfort you.”

I pushed him off. “Charlie, I’m in love with Jeb.”

“That didn’t stop you before. Anyway, Jeb dumped you.”

I was silent, because everything he said was true. Except, I wasn’t that girl anymore. I refused to be.

“Charlie . . . I can’t go out with you if I’m in love with someone else,” I finally said. “Even if he no longer wants me.”

“Whoa,” he said, drawing his hand to his heart. “Now that’s rejection.” He laughed, and just like that, he was back to being obnoxious Charlie. “What about Tegan? She’s hot. Think she’d go to Trixie’s party with me?”

“Give me back the phone book,” I demanded.

He let go of it, and I pulled it into my lap. I opened it back up, scanned the entries and—aha!

“Billingsley, Constance,” I read out loud. “108 Teal Eye Court. Do you know where Teal Eye Court is?”

“No clue,” he said. “But never fear, Lola is here.”

“Do guys always name their cars?”

He punched commands into his GPS system. “Quickest way, or most use of highways?”

“Quickest.”

He hit SELECT, and a sexy female voice said, “Please proceed to the highlighted route.”

“Ahhh,” I said. “Hello, Lola.”

“She’s my girl,” Charlie said. He shifted the Hummer into gear and bumped over the ridges of snow, slowing when he reached the parking lot’s exit. At Lola’s prompting, he took a right, drove half a block, and took another right into the narrow alley behind the stores.

“Prepare for a left turn in point one miles,” Lola purred. “Turn left now.”

Charlie wrenched the wheel to the left, taking the Hummer down a dinky, unplowed cul-de-sac.

There was a bing, and Lola said, “You have reached your destination.”

Charlie stopped the Hummer. He turned to me and lifted his eyebrows. “This is where you needed a ride to?”

I was as baffled as he was. I craned my neck to read the street sign at the corner of the cul-de-sac, and sure enough, it said Teal Eye Court. A hundred feet away was the back of the Starbucks. The entire ride had taken thirty seconds, tops.

A laugh rolled out of Charlie.

“Shut up,” I said, willing myself to stop blushing. “You didn’t know where it was either, or you wouldn’t have had to use Lola.”

“Don’t you tell me you’re not zesty,” Charlie said. “You are zesty with a capital Z.”

I opened the door of the Hummer and hopped out, sinking deep into several feet of snow.

“Want me to wait for you?” he called.

“I think I can make it back on my own.”

“You sure? It’s a long way back.”

I shut the door and started walking.

He rolled down the passenger’s-side window. “See you at Starbucks—I’ll be waiting for my chai!”

Chapter Fifteen

I waded across the snowy alley to the apartment complex at 108 Teal Court, praying that Constance Billingsley didn’t have a little kid, because I didn’t know if I could take a baby pig from a little kid.

I also prayed she wasn’t blind, or paralyzed, or a dwarf like that lady I saw on the Discovery Channel who was less than three feet tall. I could not take a teeny-tiny pig from a teeny-tiny woman, no way.

Someone had shoveled the walkway leading to the individual apartments, and I climbed over the ridge of packed snow and hopped down to the much less treacherous pavement. One-oh-four, one-oh-six . . . one-oh-eight.

I set my shoulders and rang the bell.

“Why, hello, Addie!” exclaimed the gray-braided woman who opened the door. “What a treat!”

“Mayzie?” I said, befuddled. I glanced at the credit-card receipt. “I’m . . . uh . . . looking for Constance Billingsley?”

“Constance May Billingsley, that’s me,” she said.

My brain struggled to catch up. “But . . . ”

“Now, think about it,” she said. “Would you go by ‘Con-stance’ if you had a choice?”

“Uh . . . ”

She laughed. “I didn’t think so. Now, come inside, I have something to show you. Come, come, come!”

She led me into the kitchen, where on a blue quilt folded several times over sat the most adorable piglet I’d ever seen. He was pink and black and looked soft to the touch. His snout was a funny, squished thing, and his eyes were curious and alert. The curl of his tail said sproing even without being stretched and released, and yes, he was just the right size to nestle snugly into a teacup.

He oinked, and my insides went buttery.

“Gabriel,” I said. I knelt by the edge of the quilt, and Gabriel stood and trotted over. He nosed my hand, and he was so sweet, I didn’t care that I was being slimed with pig snot. Anyway, it wasn’t snot. Gabriel had a damp snout, that was all. No biggie.

“What did you call him?” Mayzie said. “Gabriel?”

I looked up to see her smiling quizzically.

“Gabriel,” she said, trying it out. She scooped Gabriel up. “Like the Angel Gabriel!”

“Huh?”

She put on an I’ll-be-quoting-now face. “‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said, ‘to talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—of cabbages—and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot—and whether pigs have wings.’”

“Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“‘And whether pigs have wings,’” Mayzie repeated. “An angel pig, you see? The Angel Gabriel!”

“I don’t think my friend was being that deep,” I said. “And please don’t start talking about angels again. Please?”

“But why not, when the universe has such fun revealing them to us?” She looked at me with pride. “You did it, Addie. I knew you would!”

I put my hands on my thighs and pushed myself up. “What did I do?”

“You passed the test!”

“What test?”

“And so did I,” she went on exuberantly. “At least, I think I did. We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.”

Something tightened under my ribs. “Mayzie, did you go to Pet World and buy Gabriel on purpose?”

“Well, I didn’t buy him on accident,” she said.

“You know what I mean. You read my note, my pig note. Did you buy Gabriel just to mess with me?” I felt my lower lip tremble.

Her eyes widened. “Sweetie, no!”

“I went to Pet World, and Gabriel wasn’t there . . . and do you know how frantic I’ve been?” I fought back tears. “And I had to deal with Nathan, who hates me.” I sniffled. “Only it’s possible he doesn’t hate me anymore.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Mayzie said. “How could anyone hate you?”

“And then I had to deal with Charlie, which, believe me, you don’t want to hear about.” I ran the back of my hand under my nose. “Although weirdly enough, I handled it pretty well.”

“Go on,” Mayzie said encouragingly.

“I think he’s even more messed up than I am.”

Mayzie looked intrigued. “Maybe he’ll be my next case.”

With those words, my next case, I remembered that Mayzie wasn’t my friend anymore, if she ever had been. She was just a kook who had my friend’s pig.

“Are you going to give Gabriel back?” I said, keeping my voice as level as I could.

“Why, yes. I was never going to keep him.” She lifted Gabriel so that she and he were nose to snout. “Although I will miss you, Mr. Gabriel. It was nice having company in this lonely apartment, even for just a while.” She nestled him back into the nook of her elbow and kissed the top of his head.

I curled my toes inside my boots. “Are you going to give him back today?”

“Oh, dear. I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”

“Whatever, just let me have Gabriel.”

“And here I thought you’d be happy to have an angel looking out for you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Enough with the angel bit,” I said. “I’m not kidding. If the universe gave me you as my angel, then I deserve a refund.”

Mayzie chuckled. She chuckled, and I wanted to throttle her.

“Adeline, you make things so much harder for yourself than you have to,” she said. “Silly girl, it’s not what the universe gives us that matters. It’s what we give the universe.”

I opened my mouth to tell her how stupid and hokey and woo-woo that was—but then I didn’t, because something shifted inside me. Big shift, like an avalanche, and I could no longer resist it. The feeling inside of me was so big, and I was so small. . . .

So I let go. I gave myself over to it and let go . . . and it felt marvelous. So marvelous that I couldn’t understand why I’d resisted at all. So marvelous, in fact, that I thought, Holy cow, has this been here all this time? A state of being that isn’t tight and tangled and full of me me me? Because damn it felt good. And damn it felt pure. And maybe I could be full of light, like Nathan said, and maybe I could just . . . let that light be, and let it shine, and say screw it to being pinchy-squinchy-life-sucks-I suck-guess-I’ll-go-eat-worms. Was that possible in this existence of mine? Could I, Adeline Lindsey . . . could I evolve?

Mayzie escorted me to the door. “I think it’s time for you to get going,” she said.

“Uh, okay,” I said. But I dragged my feet, because I no longer felt bitter toward her—and, in fact, I felt bad that I was about to be leaving her all alone. I wanted her to feel as expansive inside as I did, and I worried that might be hard in her single-person, soon-to-be-pigless apartment.

“Hey!” I said. “Can I, um, come visit you sometimes? I promise I won’t be boring.”

“I don’t think you could possibly be boring, even if you tried,” Mayzie said. “And I would absolutely love it if you came to see me sometimes.” To Gabriel, she said, “See what a good heart she has?”

Something else clicked in. “And I’ll get your money back from Pet World. I’ll explain the whole crazy mess to Nathan.”

She chuckled. “If anyone can, you can.”

“So . . . yeah,” I said, feeling pretty good about things. “I’ll bring you your refund, and I’ll bring those chocolate-covered graham crackers you like, too. And we’ll have tea, ’kay? We’ll have a ladies’ tea every week. Or coffee. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Mayzie said. She handed Gabriel to me, and he paddled his legs, searching for purchase. I breathed in the heavenly scent of him. He smelled like whipped cream.

Chapter Sixteen

Gabriel pressed his snout against my coat as I tromped through the alley snow. I wished the Silver Sneaker van would miraculously appear and pick me up, even though I was sixteen instead of seventy-six. Although, at least I could muscle through these drifts. If I were seventy-six? No way.

Gabriel squirmed, and I said, “Hold on, little guy. It won’t be long now.”

Halfway to Starbucks, I saw Tegan’s Civic pull to a stop at the traffic light two blocks down. Eek, she’d be here in, like, two minutes! I picked up my pace, because I wanted to get inside before Tegan arrived. I wanted to settle Gabriel into an actual teacup—or coffee mug—because wouldn’t that be the cutest thing in the world?

I used my hip to push through the door, and Christina looked up from the espresso machine. The other barista, Joyce, wasn’t in sight.

“At last!” Christina called. “Can you take these guys’ or-ders?”

She gestured at the guy and the girl standing at the counter, and I did a double take.

“Stuart!” I said, because it was Stuart Weintraub of the Stuart-and-Chloe-heartbreak-forever duo. Only, the girl he was with wasn’t Chloe; in fact, she was pretty much the opposite of Chloe with her short bob and cute little cat-eye glasses. She smiled at me kind of shyly, and my heart went awwwww, because she looked nice, and she was holding Stuart’s hand, and she wasn’t wearing bright red lipstick. She did not look like the kind of girl to have skanky bathroom make-out sessions on guys who weren’t her boyfriend.

“Hey, Addie,” Stuart said. “You cut your hair.”

One hand went to my head; the other kept a firm hold on Gabriel, who was trying to snuffle his way out of my coat. “Uh, yeah.” I jerked my chin at the girl he was with. “Who’s this?” It probably came out abrupt, but good heavens! Stuart Weintraub was not only without Chloe, but also without sad Stuart eyes! I mean, he still had eyes, but they were happy eyes now. His happiness made him look super-cute, too.

Yay, Stuart, I thought. Yay for Christmas miracle happening after all.

Stuart grinned at the girl and said, “This is Jubilee. Jubilee, this is Addie. She goes to my school.”

Awwww, I thought again. How adorable that he was going out with someone named after a yummy Christmas dessert. How adorable that he got his yummy Christmas dessert—even though he was Jewish or whatever.

“Thanks for that,” Jubilee said to Stuart, blushing. To me she said, “Weird name. I know. I’m not a stripper, I promise.”

“Uh . . . okay,” I said.

“You can call me Julie,” she said.

“Nah, I like Jubilee,” I said. Saying her name out loud made a memory ping in my brain. Tegan . . . the Kissing Patrol . . . some un-Jeb guy thrusting his fist into the air . . .

“Maybe you could take their order?” Christina prompted, knocking whatever it was right out of my head. Oh, well. Stuart was with a lovely girl named Jubilee, and she wasn’t a stripper. That’s all that mattered.

“As in, now?” Christina said.

“Uh . . . yes!” I said enthusiastically. Possibly too enthusiastically. “In just a second, ’kay? I just have to do this one teeny thing.”

“Addie,” Christina warned.

To my right, Tobin stirred in the purple chair. Was he just now waking up? He blinked at me and said, “Whoa. Your name’s Addie?”

“Um, yep, that’s me, Addie,” I said, thinking, See? Knew you didn’t know my name. I juggled Gabriel to keep him hidden under my coat, and he made a funny noise that sounded like wheep. “And now I’m just going to run to the back—”

Gabriel wheeped again. Louder.

“Addie,” Christina said in a trying-not-to-freak voice. “What do you have under your coat?”

“Addster!” Charlie said from the bar. “You gonna set me up with that chai?” He grinned, and I realized why when I saw his arm slung around the girl beside him. Oh my God, this was like Christmas Miracle Central.

“Hi, Addie,” the evil Brenna said. “Nice hair.” She might have smirked, but I wasn’t sure, because she didn’t look quite as evil as I remembered her. Today she looked more glow-y than snarky. Maybe because of Charlie’s arm?

“Seriously,” Tobin said. “Your name’s Addie?” He nudged Angie, who woke up and rubbed her nose. “Her name’s Addie,” he told her. “You think she’s the Addie?”

“The Addie?” I asked. What was he talking about? I wanted to push for details, but I got distracted by the sight of Tegan’s Civic turning into the parking lot. Dorrie was in the passenger seat, clutching Tegan’s shoulder and speaking intently, and I could only imagine what she was saying. Probably something like, “Now, remember, this is Addie we’re talking about. It’s highly possible she’s having some crisis and didn’t get Gabriel after all.”

“Adeline,” Christina said. “That’s not . . . a pig, is it?”

I glanced down to see Gabriel’s head peeking out from the top of my zipper. He wheeped and looked around.

“Well,” I said proudly, since the pig was out of the coat, so to speak. I rubbed Gabriel’s ears. “Not just any pig, but a teacup pig. Very rare.”

Jubilee glanced at Stuart and grinned. “You live in a town where people carry around elf-size pigs?” she said. “And here I thought my life was weird.”

“Not elf. Teacup,” I said. “And speaking of, I need one of the holiday mugs, ’kay, Christina? You can take it out of my paycheck.” I headed toward the display shelf, but Tobin stopped me by grabbing my elbow.

“Are you the Addie who goes out with Jeb Taylor?” he asked.

That threw me. Tobin didn’t know my name, but he knew I went out with Jeb?

“I’m . . . well, um . . . ” I swallowed. “Why?”

“Because Jeb gave me a message for you. Crap, I completely dropped the ball.”

My heart whacked around in my chest. “He gave you a message? What was the message?”

Tobin turned to Angie. “I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t you remind me?”

She smiled drowsily. “That you’re an idiot? Okay: you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, that’s great, thanks,” he said. She giggled.

“The message?” I managed to say.

“Right!” he said. He turned his attention back to me. “The message was that he got delayed.”

“By cheerleaders,” Angie contributed.

“I’m sorry?”

“Cheerleaders?” Jubilee said, somewhat manically. She and Stuart came over to where we were standing. “Oh my God, cheerleaders!”

“The cheerleaders were on a train with him, only the train got stuck,” Tobin said.

“I was on that train!” Jubilee shouted. Stuart laughed the way you do when someone you love is a goofy nut. “And did you say Jeb? I gave him a microwavable pizza disc!”

“You gave Jeb a . . . what?” I said.

“’Cause of the storm?” Charlie asked.

I turned to him in a daze. “Why would she give Jeb a microwavable pizza disc because of the storm?”

“Dude, no,” he said. He hopped off his stool and pulled Brenna along with him. They joined us by the purple chairs. “I mean did the train get stuck ’cause of the storm, asshat.”

Tobin twitched at the word ASSHAT and looked up at Charlie like he’d seen an apparition. Then he shook it off and said, “Uh, yeah. Exactly. And then the cheerleaders abducted Jeb, because they had needs.”

Charlie laughed. “Right on.”

“Not those kind of needs,” Angie said.

“Yeah,” Brenna said. She jabbed Charlie in the ribs.

“What kind of needs?” I said, feeling lightheaded. In the back of my consciousness, I registered the sound of a car door shutting, and then another. In my peripheral vision, I saw Tegan and Dorrie hurrying toward the store.

“Huh,” Tobin said, and he got that inward look of his I was growing familiar with, the one that meant that no answer was forthcoming.

“Well . . . was there more?” I said, trying a different strategy.

“More what?” Tobin said.

“More to Jeb’s message!”

“Oh,” Tobin said. “Yes! Yes, there was!” The set of his jaw was purposeful, but after several seconds, he deflated. “Ah, crap,” he said.

Angie took pity on me. Her expression went from giddy to kind.

“He said he’s coming,” she said. “He said you’d know what he meant.”

My heart stopped, and the cheerful buzz of Starbucks receded. It was as if someone pressed a mute button on the outside world, or maybe what was going on inside of me was simply drowning everything else out. He said he was coming? Jeb was coming?!

A jangling penetrated my consciousness, and in my muddled state, I had the most random thought: Every time a bell rings, an angel gets her wings. Then a burst of cold air brought me back to reality, and I realized it was the bell on the door making such a clatter.

“Addie, you’re here!” Dorrie cried, barging toward me in a bright red hat.

Beside her, Tegan beamed. “And he’s here! We saw him in the parking lot!”

“I’m the one who spotted him,” Dorrie said. “He looks like he’s been out in the wilderness for days, so prepare yourself. To be perfectly honest, Sasquatch is what comes to mind. But—”

She broke off, noticing Stuart and Jubilee. “Stuart’s with a girl,” she whispered in a voice loud enough to bring down a house.

“I know!” I whispered back. I grinned at Stuart and Jubilee, who both turned as red as Dorrie’s hat.

“Hi, Dorrie,” Stuart said. “Hi, Tegan.” He put his arm around Jubilee and patted her shoulder, half nervously and half just plain sweetly.

“Gabriel!” Tegan squealed. She rushed over and scooped Gabriel from my arms, which was lucky, as my muscles were wobbly. My whole body was wobbly, because the bell on the door was jingling again,

and it was Jeb,

and he was a total mess,

and sobs rose inside me, and laughter, too, because he really did look like Sasquatch, with straggly hair and wind-chapped cheeks and his strong jaw shadowed with stubble.

His dark eyes darted from person to person, then landed on me. He strode over and crushed me in his arms, and I hugged him with every bit of myself. My cells sang.

“Oh, man, Addie, it’s been a crazy couple of days,” he murmured into my ear.

“Yeah?” I said, soaking in the glorious, solid realness of him.

“First my train got stuck. Then there were these cheerleaders, and we all ended up in the Waffle House, and they kept making me help them with their lifts—”

“Their lifts?” I drew back so I could see his face but kept my arms circled around him.

“And every single one of them left her phone on the train so she could focus on spirit, or something. And I tried to use the Waffle House phone, but the manager was like, ‘Sorry, no can do. Crisis mode, dude.’”

“Ouch,” Tobin said, cringing.

“See what happens when boys get obsessed with cheerleaders?” Angie said.

“Although it’s not fair to be prejudiced against all cheerleaders,” Jubilee said. “Just the ones whose names rhyme with showy. Right, Stuart?”

Stuart looked amused.

Jubilee waved at Jeb. “Hi, Jeb.”

“Julie,” Jeb said. “What are you doing here?”

“Her name’s not Julie, it’s Jubilee,” I whispered helpfully.

“Jubilee?” Jeb repeated. “Whoa.”

“No,” Christina said, and all eight of us turned to look at her. “I am the one who gets to say whoa here, and I’m saying it right now, okay?”

No one responded, so finally I said, “Uh, okay. But come on, it’s not that weird a name.”

She looked pained. “Addie,” she said, “I need you to tell me right now: Did you bring a pig into my store?”

Ohhhh. Right.

Pig in store . . . was there any way to put a spin on this?

“He’s a really cute pig,” I said. “Does that count for anything?”

Christina pointed to the door. “The pig has to go. Now.”

“Fine, fine,” I said. “I just need to give Tegan a cup to put him in.”

“Think Flobie’ll ever dip into drinkware?” Stuart said to Jubilee under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what’s that?” I said.

Giggling, Jubilee elbowed Stuart and said, “Ignore. Please.”

Dorrie stepped closer to me. “You did good, Addie,” she said. “I doubted you, but I shouldn’t have, and . . . well, you did good.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Hello?” Christina said. “Did anyone hear me when I said the pig needs to go?”

“Someone needs a refresher in customer service,” Tobin said.

“Maybe Don-Keun could help?” Angie said.

Christina glared, and Tegan stepped backward toward the door. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving!”

“Wait!” I said. I released Jeb long enough to grab a snowflake mug from the shelf, which I handed to Tegan. “For Gabriel.”

“If the regional manager stops in, I’m fired,” Christina said hopelessly. “Pigs are not part of Starbucks policy.”

“Here you go, sweetie,” Tegan said, tilting Gabriel so that he slipped into the mug. He scrabbled a bit, then seemed to realize the mug was just his size and made a decent house, actually. He sat on his haunches and oinked, and every one of us gave a collective awwww. Even Christina.

“Excellent,” Dorrie said. “Now come on, we better go before Christina plotzes.”

I grinned at Jeb, who grinned back. His gaze shifted to my hair, and his eyebrows went up.

“Hey,” he said. “You changed your hair.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. It seemed like a lifetime ago. That blonde-haired boo-hoo-hoo girl who spent Christmas feeling sorry for herself, was that really me?

“Looks nice,” he said. He rubbed a lock between his thumb and forefinger. His knuckles slid down, grazing my cheek.