Page 127 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“Never happening,” Tilly shouted. “My son will never be anything but a neighbor to you!”
“They’re headed this way!” someone in the crowd announced.
The crowd parted as the entire Blue Moon High Marching Band stomped its way through the park led by none other than Davis Gates.
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Davis blew smartly on a whistle and the band came to a halt. “Eden Moody,” he yelled. “I have something to ask you.”
Eden had to give him credit for drama. Blue Moon would be talking about this moment for the next fifteen years.
“Davis, what’s going on? Our parents are ready to throw down,” she whispered, pretending like fifty percent of the town’s population wasn’t eavesdropping on them right now.
He blew the whistle again, drowning her out. “Drumline!”
Six kids with braces and acne burst into an enthusiastic drumroll.
“Color guard,” Davis shouted over the music.
A dozen teens dumped their flags and rifles on the ground, tripping over each other to unroll a banner.
HeHa?
She cocked her head. This was indeed HeHa Day. She wasn’t really clear on what the question was.
“Eden Moody?” Davis yelled. “Would you do me the great honor of going to the HeHa Dance with me?”
Eden’s heart climbed into her throat.
Their mothers’ screeching was drowned out by the ongoing drumroll.
“We’re gettin’ tired here, Miss Moody,” one of the drummers yelled. “Maybe you could say yes already?”
But Eden was already in motion. She pushed through Ned and Ferguson who were standing toe-to-toe engaged in a staring contest. She danced around Tilly and Lilly Ann as they hurled ridiculous insults at each other.
And when she got to him, Eden threw herself into Davis’s waiting arms. “I thought I told you we shouldn’t date.”
He grinned at her. “I do recall you making some kind of ridiculous speech along those lines.”
“And you’re still here. Asking me out.”
“That I am.”
“I’m such an idiot,” she told him over the chaos.
“But you’re my beautiful idiot,” he said with a grin.
“What about them?” she asked jerking a thumb behind her where things had gotten physical. Their fathers were flicking each other in the chest, and their mothers were locked in some sumo style embrace. Sheriff Cardona was radioing for backup.
“They can be someone else’s problem for a while,” Davis said with a wink.
Eden grabbed the whistle that hung from his neck and blew it shrilly.
“Yes, Davis Gates, I will go to the HeHa Dance with you!”
The part of the crowd that wasn’t related to them erupted into cheers. The marching band played a celebratory riff.
And Eden and Davis were too busy kissing to notice the Beautification Committee encircling their fighting parents.
