“What? But . . . what time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes, in the morning! Put something warm on. And bring your camera. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
I scramble into a pair of jeans and boots and my fleeciest sweatshirt and I head down to the kitchen. Noah’s over by the counter putting a couple of flasks into his bag. The beautiful smell of freshly roasted coffee is filling the room.
“All righty, let’s get going,” he says, as soon as he sees me.
“Where to?”
“This morning is about the only time of the year when New York actually goes to sleep,” Noah says, putting a note on the kitchen table. It reads, GONE FOR A WALK. BACK SOON, N & P. “I figured it would be the perfect time to show you some of the local sights.” He takes hold of my hand. “I want you to know more about where I’m from,” he says quietly. “Plus, I thought you might like to take some photos without a ton of other people getting in the way.”
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
It’s a perfect morning outside. Everywhere is covered in a fresh blanket of snow and there’s that weird muffled silence that it brings. Noah shows me his old school and his favorite café and the shop his mum used to take him to every Saturday to spend his pocket money on comics and candy. Then he takes me to the local park. Apart from a man in the distance, walking a dog, we’re the only people there and ours are the only footprints in the blanket of snow. Noah sits on one of the swings and gets a faraway look in his eye.
“My dad used to tell me that if you swung high enough it was possible to shoot off into outer space,” he says softly. “I used to believe him too!” He laughs. “Man, I used to swing my butt off trying to get into space.” He turns to look at me. “Why do we believe everything our parents tell us?”
I sit down on the swing next to him. “Because we love them? Because we want to? When I was little, my mum told me that my toys came to life every night while I was asleep. In the morning when I woke up I’d check in my tent and they’d all be in different positions to how I’d left them.”
“In your tent?”
I laugh. “Yes. I used to have a tent made out of blankets at the end of my bed. It was my favorite place to play. It made me feel all cozy and safe. My mum must have crawled in there every night to move the toys around. I think it’s good when parents tell us things like that. It makes life more magical.”
Noah nods. “I guess. But when what they tell us doesn’t come true . . .” He breaks off, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Then we have to find something else magical to believe in.”
Noah looks at me and smiles. “Yes, I like that.” He shifts his swing sideways till he’s right up close to mine. “I believe in you, Penny,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“I believe in you too.”
We look at each other for a second, then Noah pushes his swing back.
“Come on,” he calls. “Let’s see how high we can go.”
We don’t quite make it into outer space but we do get high enough to see right across the park to the rooftop of Noah’s house.
When we finally come back down to earth, we’re flush-faced and giggling.
Noah runs over to a seesaw and jumps on top of it. “I’m the king of the castle!” he yells. He looks so happy and cute I instantly reach for my camera.
“I’ve got to get a picture of you,” I call. “You look so funny.”
“Hmm, funny is not exactly the look I was going for,” Noah says with a frown.
“Really?” I say, taking the shot. “So what look were you going for?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Noah leaps down from the seesaw. “Thoughtful? Mysterious?” He comes and stands right in front of me. “The kind of guy you might want to, you know, kiss?”
My heart starts beating so fast I can practically feel my rib cage vibrating.
“Oh, you’re definitely all of those too,” I say quietly.
Noah looks at me. “Really?”
I nod. “Yes.”
The muffled snowy silence wraps itself around us like a blanket. And as he gently brushes the hair back from my face and leans in to kiss me, it feels as if we’re the only people awake and alive on the entire planet.
? ? ?
It’s not until the afternoon that I finally get a text from Elliot. As soon as I see it my heart sinks.
Happy Christmas. Hope you had a good one
I stare at the screen. Is that it? The lack of exclamation marks, emoticons, and kisses immediately makes me think that something is very wrong. I have to call him. While the others all watch The Wizard of Oz, I sneak up to Bella’s room and climb into my bunk. Thankfully this time, he picks up.
“Elliot, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong?”
“Your text—it was so blunt.”
“Well, maybe if you’d just spent the Christmas from hell with the parents from hell, you’d be feeling pretty blunt too.”
I feel a glimmer of relief that he might just be annoyed at his parents and not me. “Why didn’t you call me back? Or text me?”
There’s a long silence. It’s so long I think we might have lost the connection.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Elliot finally mutters.
“Interrupt what?”
There’s another silence.
“You told me he was just a holiday romance.”
Now it’s my turn to go silent.
“He—I—it’s—I don’t know what it is.”
“You seem pretty clear about it on your blog.”
“No, I don’t. That’s why I blogged about it, because I’m not sure, because I’m confused.”
“So you’d rather talk to thousands of strangers about it than to me?”
“No! It’s just—you’re not here.”
“No—I’m not.”
“Oh, El, please.”
“Look, we’ll talk about it when you get home, all right?”
“All right. Well, I’ll see you next week then.”