Page 16 of Falling Like Snow

He holds up the phone to take a selfie as I squeeze into the frame, resting my head on his shoulder and smiling as snow falls all around us.

“Want to get pizza and go over festival plans?” Asher asks after snapping the picture.

“Cheesylicious is closed,” I remind him as a couple of theater friends pass by.

“Right.” He bites his bottom lip for second. “Frozen bean burritos then? I know your mom has your freezer stocked with them.”

My stomach rumbles, but my eyes grow heavy just thinking about getting up for school tomorrow. “Meh, food sounds great, but it was a long weekend. I’m beat, and I still need to shower. Might have to hold off on the planning. I’m already going to struggle to roll out of bed in the morning.”

“You’re my ride. You better wake up.”

“I’ll set three alarms just in case,” I tell him as Daphne backtracks toward us, stopping behind Asher.

“Hey,” she says, shooting us both a smile. Her shimmery makeup makes her brown skin luminous in the lights. “Sorry—I overheard you guys. Asher, we’re heading to the diner if you want to come. Someone said they stayed open tonight.”

“Oh. Um, that’s okay. Thanks, though. I’m going to walk Sloane home,” he tells her.

“No way,” I say, swatting his arm. “You’re hungry. Go eat. I can walk two blocks on my own just fine.”

He looks at me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Of course. Have fun, and I’ll see you in the morning.” I wave to them. “Night, Daph.”

“See ya, Sloane,” she replies, yanking Asher toward the group of girls waiting for her.

I pull my hat further over my ears and glance one last time at the twinkling tree behind me. And as I head home with snowflakes landing softly on my coat and nose, I just know that good things are coming.

Chapter Four

As I cross my driveway with Preeti and Hannah after school on Thursday, the sun glints off the flawless white blanket of snow that’s been falling relentlessly since the tree-lighting ceremony. I open my front door and stomp my boots as we enter the house.

We toss our winter gear haphazardly onto the floor and head into the living room, each of us in black fleece-lined leggings, thick winter socks, and hoodies. The couch is surrounded by the boxes of Christmas decorations that Cooper dragged up from the basement yesterday when he and Ellis were here for dinner with their moms. I promised I’d get the house decorated tonight, seeing as Mom and I have neglected the place since our focus has been solely on making the rest of the town look festive this week.

I sift through the boxes while Hannah and Preeti tackle getting our artificial tree set up. When Dad was alive, he’d cart the family to Frosty Pines every year. He’d let me pick out the perfect tree, and then he’d saw it down while Mom and I supervised, always clapping as it toppled over. But after he was gone, Mom opted for a pre-lit artificial tree. That way we wouldn’t have to go to the Christmas tree farm and be reminded of him.

Sometimes I wish she wanted to be reminded of him—to talk about him, to look at pictures, to reminisce. I’m terrified I’ll forget him as the years pass, while she seems like she hopes to.

A rainbow of shiny ornaments fills the worn cardboard box in front of me. I sort through them, pulling out the gold and pink bulbs I’ve decided to use on the tree this year. I leave the rest. Just as I’m about to close the top, my eye catches on a familiar royalblue bulb with a zigzag scratch etched into it.

A dull ache fills my chest, taking root as I recall helping Dad decorate the tree when I was nine. I dropped the bulb and expected it to shatter, but instead it only bounced across the floor until it rolled under the table. Dad picked it up and handed it to me. “Look at that,” he said, pointing at the scratch. “Now it has an S for Sloane.”

My jaw tightens at the blow that nearly knocks the wind out of me.

“Ta-da!” Hannah says, holding her arms up to present the tree, which is now standing at its full height, while Preeti spreads the wiry branches to make it look fuller.

I take a deep breath through my nose and close the box, shoving away the memory. I grin at my friends’ handiwork. “Awesome! Thank you both! Do you want to hang these bulbs while I tack up this garland?”

“Absolutely.” Hannah grabs two ornaments from the coffee table and dangles each of them from a tree branch.

“Knock, knock!” Ellis calls from the entryway.

“Come in!” I shout.

A minute later she, Cooper, Jake, and Chloe join us in the living room.

“Looking good,” Cooper says, surveying the tree. “What can we do to help?”

“Hang this around the trim here?” I hold the garland out and point to the cased opening between the living room and foyer.