Page 85 of Kiss the Girl
“It looks dope,” one of the tight ends announced.
That met with exclamations of, “Yeah, it does” and “We’re going to win Christmas Town.”
“Win Christmas Town?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” J.J. explained. “Blue Ribbon for best booth and $250 for the team.”
“How did I not know that was part of the competition?” I asked. Maybe it had been for the best. It would have been another thing to stress about.
“I don’t know,” Grace snapped. “Everyone else knows.”
Man, I hated fake fighting.
“Anyway,” she continued to the rest of the boys, “now that you know how to assemble it, let’s see how quickly you can disassemble it. Then you just have to practice the hand pie recipe, and you’ll be set for Christmas Town.”
“I’d feel so much better if your sister was here to teach us how to do the hand pies,” I said to her in a low voice. “I tried it at home, and it came out okay, but I don’t know why anyone would pay five dollars apiece for what I ended up with.”
“Were you wearing a striped stovepipe hat or a cool Thing One costume when you made it? Because those things make the pies taste better.”
“Is that what I was missing?”
“It’s the secret sauce,” she confirmed. “But also, Tabitha is going to send a video of how to make them. She’s using it as a segment for one of her shows, and she’s going to shout out the Bulldogs, but she said she’d send the video over in the next few days so you’d have it by next weekend.”
The next weekend was dress rehearsal. We’d practice loading the booth, trucking it over to Reed Williamson’s house, then assemble it, just like we would need to do it on Friday, Christmas Town day. Then we’d check out everyone’s costumes and practice making the food, disassemble the booth, and figure out the shifts.
This was where having overly involved football parents was a godsend. Moms were sewing hats and ironing on Thing One and Two decals, dads were sourcing a portable deep fryer and running the electricity, and more moms stood ready to supervise the practice baking all day.
I’d expected drama and arguments, which was also a thing with football parents, but the simplicity of the theme had headed off a lot of the bickering that could happen around big events, and that was pure, dumb luck. The lack of drama meant no calls to Dr. Boone from people trying to go over my head, and I looked good because of it.
Between a good season, Coach Dean’s recommendation, and a successful Christmas Town event, I was finally optimistic about my chances of getting Coach Dean’s job.
And, of course, because of fake dating Grace.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grace
“Everything okay?” my mom asked when I finally came in. We’d put the whole booth back in the work shed, and Noah had left with Evie.
“It’s fine, Mom.” But it wasn’t. This whole morning had been the worst. Even though the fake fighting had been my idea, I’d hated every second of it.
“You seem tense.”
“Didn’t sleep well. No big deal.”
“Is it because this thing with Noah is getting real?” She was trying so hard to sound neutral, but I knew her too well. She might as well hold up a neon sign flashing, “SAY NO.”
In most ways that mattered, the answer was yes. We made each other funnier, nearly started fires with our sparks, and we had a million things in common.
But long-term goals…we were oil and water. Orange juice and toothpaste. I couldn’t stay. He couldn’t leave.
I wished I could talk to my mom about any or all of this, but she wouldn’t be impartial. She’d probably shove me in the car and drive me straight to Charleston just to make sure I got there.
But she was still waiting for an answer. I had to step carefully here. I didn’t want to cast a shadow on Christmas by telling her I was leaving or having her worry about Noah and me. Dad was almost back to his old self and I wanted us to celebrate like we hadn’t been able to last year when he’d been so weak and tired. My parents deserved an uncomplicated and happy Christmas, and I’d give it to them.
“Noah and I are same old, same old,” I said, avoiding her question. “He’s stressed about Christmas Town, and I’m stressed for him, but it’ll work out because guess who’s coming to help with the booth?”
Her expression perked up. “Who?”
