“I want it,” Danny said, making grabby hands.
“One million dollars.” Holly clutched it to her chest. She’d had an art awakening ever since she got home. She’d been seeing her surroundings with fresh eyes—picking up all kinds of debris and shiny objects on the sidewalk. Yeah, she was still going to study architectural engineering in school, but she’d keep going with the art thing, too. No reason she couldn’t do both.
“Hey,” Danny said. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” They’d had a great week after Christmas. A perfect week. They’d made all kinds of plans to do the traditional North Pole stuff during the remainder of her visit, but opted instead to spend time together hanging out, only bothering to do stuff when they absolutely felt like it. They hadn’t made any promises to each other, and when she left on New Year’s Day, she questioned where they stood. It would’ve put too much pressure on their little baby relationship to make any big proclamations. They weren’t Elda and Dinesh, after all. They were still in high school, and they were making plans for college, plans that didn’t involve the other person.
But then they’d started texting, and Danny called her, and then she called him, and suddenly it became a thing they did, not out of obligation, but because they wanted to.
And, boy, did she look forward to those phone calls.
“I can’t wait to meet Rebel,” Danny said. “You know, when I’m in town.”
“Oh, yeah. You want to meet her?” A smile teased Holly’s lips.
“Sure. I mean, as long as you’re there, too.”
Holly shrugged. “I guess I can come.”
“If you have time, of course,” Danny said.
“Of course.”
Danny checked his watch, and the air went out of Holly’s lungs. He must be looking for an excuse to get off the phone. That was the problem with video chatting, seeing all the stuff people tried to hide when they were just talking on the phone. But then he said, “Three…two…one.”
Holly’s doorbell rang.
“You should probably get that,” he said. “And take me with you.”
A lump in her throat, Holly took the stairs two at a time down to her front door, which she flung open. Rebel stood there with a massive bouquet of pink roses.
“These are from your…Danny,” she said. “I don’t know.”
Rebel handed the flowers to Holly and stepped into the house.
Holly, without worrying about how she looked, held the phone up to her face. “Oh my God.”
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Danny said. “This long-distance thing stinks, but it’s what we’ve got going right now.”
“It does stink,” Holly said, relieved that he was the one who brought this up.
“We’re seeing each other in March for spring break, and in June for Elda’s wedding, but I think we need one more visit in between, at least.” He smiled, but his eyes were unsure, nervous. She made Danny Garland nervous.
“Like, so, would you be interested in coming up to North Pole in May?”
“In May?”
“For prom.” He winced, waiting for her answer.
Holly hugged the flowers to her chest. “I’d love to.”
Danny still smiled, but relief also painted his face. “It’s a date, then.”
When she and Danny got off the phone, Holly went right to her day planner. She’d bought it when she got home from North Pole, and it was just like the one her grandma had used. Holly loved the fact that it was paper, tangible. She could run her fingers over the words.
She skipped ahead to May and recorded the date of Danny’s prom. She’d ask him to hers, too, of course, and maybe to come down to Chicago sometime this summer. And when they were both in college—him here, maybe, her in Indiana, probably—they’d make plans to meet up whenever they could, for as long as they wanted.
Life had no guarantees. Holly knew that. She’d seen that firsthand when she found her grandma’s journal. But the days, weeks, and months went by no matter what anyone did in the present. The future was a mystery, a big beautiful mystery. Hope lived inside these blank pages, and magic, and potential beyond Holly’s wildest dreams, as long as she stayed open to the possibilities.
Chapter Twenty-Three
March
DANNY: I’m stopping at Culver’s for lunch. Should I get a Butterburger or a grilled chicken sandwich?
HOLLY: If you even have to ask…
DANNY: Joking. [Sends picture of a double Butterburger with cheese]
HOLLY: Phew. We can still be friends.
DANNY: Friends? Aren’t we beyond that?
HOLLY: [Insert blushing emoji]
DANNY: I can’t wait to see you!
…
HOLLY: Are you lost? I hope you’re not lost.
HOLLY: You know my house is off of NORTH Harlem, not South, right? You put the right address in Google Maps?
DANNY: I’m driving! Are you trying to kill me with all these texts?
HOLLY: No. Stay alive, please.
HOLLY: You should’ve been here forever ago. Ugh. I’m sure traffic on the Kennedy is garbage. It always is. I’m not worried. Not worried at all.
HOLLY: Remember you can hop off the Kennedy and take the Edens if that looks better.
DANNY: You Chicagoans and your dumb expressway names.
HOLLY: Not dumb, awesome. Just, you know, send me an SOS text if you’re in trouble.
DANNY: Hey, Holly! Call off the search party. I’m here! :)
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Airing of Grievances As this is a holiday book, I’d like to honor Festivus and take a moment to not thank the following people/entities: Any airline that refuses to hand over a full can of pop on a flight from Chicago to Seattle. Oh, really? This half a cup of liquid is supposed to sustain me for the next four hours? Thanks, buddy.
The Sims and SimCity for being too much of a distraction. I HAVE THINGS TO DO.
George R. R. Martin.
Avocados for being so delicious and so expensive.
Cheetos for being so delicious and so bad for me. (See also: cake, pie, Pringles, Take 5 bars, 100 Grand bars, cheese popcorn, etc.) My favorite nail clippers. Where have you gone?
The Bulls for letting Jimmy Butler go.
Mosquitoes.