Page 89 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

Beau nodded.

“Okay. An airplane.”

He broke out in laughter and then quieted himself. “We’re kind of tall for the mile-high club. But yeah, we’ll make it work.” Beau lifted his head to the star-covered ceiling. “Wish list.”

“Wish list,” I sighed and let him roll off me so he could put on his sneakers.

“I’ll pick you up later.”

When we got to the town fair the next afternoon, Beau’s mom asked us to help manage her booth—she had packaged up jars of cake, brownies, and cookies prepared to donate the proceeds, something Beau says she does every year. This year it was going to some organization that works to make sick kids happy. But after Beau had opened his third jar of brownies, she fired us. So, we walked aimlessly through the fair holding sticky hands (cotton candy is only second to Dole Whip if you ask me), trying to decide what ride to go on.

“Ferris Wheel,” Beau said.

I rolled my eyes. “That issolame. No. Let’s go on that one.” I pointed to some tall catapult-looking thing where people were being launched into the air while upside down.

“In your dreams.”

“You’re boring,” I told Beau, and when I tried to take my hand from his, he began leading me across the grass lot. “What are you—”

“Boring enough to square dance?” Beau asked over his shoulder as he led me toward the stage.

“No, Beau, come on.” It wasn’t that I was embarrassed about making a fool out of myself. I mean, that was part of it. I was more worried about the huge crowd of people I was about to make myself a fool in front of. “I hate crowds,” I whined, trying to remind him.

Beau stopped. “I really want to dance with you.”

I shrugged. “We could wait until prom. I mean, you are taking me, right?”

There was the slightest change in Beau’s eyes, a straining, like he was holding back from blinking. But when I dropped his hand, he quickly picked it back up, shaking the look from his face. “Yeah. I’ll take you.”

“I love white peonies.” I giggled when Beau looked confused. “For my corsage.”

Beau nodded. “White peony corsage, got it.”

I smiled. “Wish list,” I told him, sealing the deal. “And there’s something else.”

“What’s that?”

“Somethingafter.”

The truth is, Mom, I don’t want Beau and I to leave each other without fully being with each other in every way. And I think I’ve waited long enough.

Beau nodded. “Wish list,” he said softly, and I couldn’t ignore how his voice cracked a bit. “Since we’re here, though, and there’s music, and dancing with you is onmylist, can you just give me this one?”

I let him lead me to the crowded floor because he had some sort of fierce determination within him, even though I don’t think Beau really wanted to square dance with me. We folded into line. I had no idea what I was doing, and even with his overconfidence, Beau didn’t either. But that was okay. We danced like idiots—going left when we should’ve gone right, stepping forward when we should’ve moved back—smiling while laughter escaped between rushed breaths. And when the music slowed, Beau pulled me in, and I rested my cheek on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to waste a moment with you,” Beau said, and I knew what he meant.

We know how fragile life is because it all ends, and that’s sad, no matter if it’s peaceful or traumatic or just wrong. Every minute is precious enough that it can be wasted. Beau taught me that. So now I don’t wait for my birthday to make a wish. I don’t even wait for the perfect star anymore, Mom. Just the perfect moment, and there’s no moment like the present.

Beau has taught me to eat the cake (or cookies or brownies), dance while there is music even if your moves are bad, and say what you want to say when you need to say it.

“I love you.”

Beau looked down at me like he had something he needed to say too. “Sienna,” he began, but then bit his lip and looked away before pulling me close. “I love you too.”

Love,

Sienna

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