Page 61 of Huckleberry Hill
“A vote? What do you mean a vote? A vote on what?”
“Hang on.”
“Salem—”
“Hang on!”
A few moments later, Poet grumbled, “I was almost asleep.” She took a seat on the couch next to Salem. “What’s this meeting about?”
“Wyn?” Salem asked.
“Here,” Wyn said, her face appearing on the screen.
I leaned forward. “You have something on your shirt.”
“It’s puke. The kid puked on me.”
“Ew.” Salem wrinkled her nose. “You should really shower.”
“I was going to,” Wyn said, “but you called, and I answered.”
“We have been summoned,” Poet stated. “So, what’s this about?”
“Hadley almost kissed Declan,” Salem announced.
Poet and Wyn were silent, but their mouths dropped open in unison.
“Almost?” Wyn asked, regaining her voice. “Why almost?”
“Because she’s a big fat chicken,” Salem said. “So, we’re taking a vote.”
“A vote?” Poet asked. “About what?”
“About if she should kiss him for real,” Salem said.
“I vote yes,” Wyn said.
“Me too,” Poet added.
I glared at her.
“Sorry. I need to live vicariously through you,” Poet said.
“Same, I’m in a major dry spell,” Wyn said. “These days, my eye candy is nothing but balding middle-aged men trying to recapture their youth. And hairlines.”
“Let’s talk about why this is a bad idea,” I said.
“Let’s not,” Salem replied. “We love you, Hadley. But you’ll always find a way not to do the scary things.”
“Kissing Declan isn’t scary,” I denied.
“No?” Wyn asked. “Then why won’t you do it?”
“Well, because he works for my dad. And there’s the rule. I don’t want him to lose his job.”
“Were you going to kiss him or was he going to kiss you?” Poet asked.
“What do you mean?”
