by Seven Steps
“Thanks, Cecily,” Rose said. “Oh, is Hannah around by any chance?” Rose asked.
“Yes, she’s in the kitchen. Let me grab her. I’m sure she’ll want to donate too.”
Then Cecily shuffled off to the back of the restaurant.
Rose smiled proudly at us and waited impatiently for Cecily to return.
How much would our first donation be? What if everyone only gave five dollars? Would that be enough to fund an entire carnival?
We’d worked out that we wanted to give Kat’s mom at least ten thousand dollars. It would cost a little over two thousand five hundred dollars for the carnival itself, most of that cost going to decorations, renting games, the prizes for those games, and food. Would we be able to raise twelve thousand dollars in a little over two months? What if we couldn’t do it? I’d feel terrible if I couldn’t give Mrs. Levy anything, especially after all we’d done. She and Kat deserved more than that.
Cecily returned a few minutes later with a bill in her hand. Walking behind her was Hannah Jackson, the owner of the restaurant.
“Hello there, young people,” Hannah said. She was a painfully thin woman, with her hair in a single braid. I noticed flour on her left cheek. “Cecily’s told me you’re taking up donations for Kat Levy.”
Rose handed Hannah one of our informational sheets.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hannah took the sheet and read it over carefully. Then she shook her head.
“That poor girl,” she said. “Do you know that Kat and her mother came here every Sunday? They were always the first in line for pancakes. They’ve been doing it since Kat’s father was alive. Beautiful people.” She placed the paper on the hostess stand. “Please put me down for one thousand dollars. That girl needs the best treatment she can get.”
I choked on air.
One thousand dollars toward our carnival? That was amazing!
“I’d also like to donate some of our famous pancake balls. You can auction them off or use them as snacks if you’d like.”
I was in shock. Absolute shock. I thought we’d get donations of ten or fifteen dollars per business, but a thousand dollars right off the bat? I’d never imagined that in a million years.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Jackson,” Rose said. “That’s so generous of you!”
Hannah smiled. “I wish I could do more.”
“And here’s a little something from me,” Cecily said. “It’s not a thousand dollars, but it’s all I had in my purse.”
“We appreciate anything you can give,” Rose said. “And thank you two, so much.” She handed Cecily’s twenty-dollar bill to Becks, who carefully folded it and placed it in the little leather pack he wore around his waist.
“Why don’t you hand me a few of those flyers,” Hannah said. “We can hang them on the door and around the cash register. A little extra exposure never hurt, right?”
“Sure,” Rose said.
I handed Hannah five of our informational sheets, then we waved our goodbyes.
When we got outside, I literally jumped on Rose’s back.
“That was incredible!” I cried. “A thousand dollars? Rose, that’s insane!”
“And it’s only our first business,” Calla said. “We’re going to have this thing financed in no time.”
“We should split up,” Becks said. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”
That’s when my celebration came to an end.
“Split up? How is Rose going to talk to everyone if we split up?”
“We’ll take turns talking,” Calla said.
Take turns talking? That meant I had to talk too. My anxiety went into overdrive.
I started to speak up and ask to partner with Rose, but Calla had already grabbed her hand.
“We’ll meet you guys at the flower shop,” Calla said.
The flower shop she was referring to belonged to my parents. All in Bloom.
As Rose and Calla walked away, I suddenly understood the predicament I was in.
Rose and Calla were going off alone to collect their donations.
That left me and Becks to cover blocks and blocks of stores.
Talking to people.
And talking to each other.
Alone.
My heart raced as I thought of it. It was odd that I’d spent countless hours alone with him when we were kids, but now the thought of being alone with him made me want to sink beneath the concrete.
“You ready?” Becks asked.
Ready? Not in the least. But I couldn’t tell him that. So, I turned and began to stroll down the sidewalk, even though my gut felt like I’d swallowed curdled milk.
Becks spoke at the first three stores we went to. The conversations always started out the same way. With Becks informing people of his new name, then running through our pitch and accepting donations. We didn’t get a thousand dollars like Rose did, but we did get two donations of two hundred fifty dollars, one from Nathaniel Walker’s Hardware Store and another from Susan Lawrence’s maternity boutique. Nathaniel also offered us a set of power tools to auction off. Since he was the second one to mention it, we figured we’d better add an auction to our carnival schedule. I texted Calla and Rose the news as we stood in front of the next business.
Vicki Toll’s House of Sweets.
“Okay,” Becks said. “Your turn.”
I took a step back. “What? Me? But you’re doing so well.”
“But you don’t want me to have all the fun, do you?”
I could feel my heart banging against my chest.
“I... I... I’m not so good with talking to people.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What? Lily McAlister can’t talk to people? The same Lily McAlister who held a meeting with both of our parents to get us matching bikes when we were seven?”
I shook my head. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
He bristled. “Why not?”
“The same reason you aren’t little Beckett Hayes. Because I’ve changed. We’ve changed.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping an eye on him as he thought about my statement.
“Well,” he said. “Consider this your comeback.”
“Comeback?”
“Yeah. You can be Fearless Lily again. Right here, right now.”
He’d called me Fearless Lily when we were kids. But these days I was more like Fearful Lily.
I shook my head. “That girl you remember is gone. Now I’m Lily, the girl who’s afraid of her own shadow.”
Becks narrowed his determined gaze at me. “I don’t believe it.”
“Well, you should, because it’s the truth.”
“No. It can’t be true.”
“Becks, please don’t make me talk to people. It’s not what I’m built to do.”
“So, build yourself up to do it.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “You’re making it seem like fear is something you can turn off and on like a light switch. It’s not. It’s real. I cannot go in there and talk to people. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Rose was the brave twin. Not me. I squeezed my arms tighter around me to make my point.
Becks blinked at me. Once. Twice. Then, he pulled out his phone and started to dial someone.
“Who are you calling?”
“The hospital.”
The churning in my gut sped up. “Why are you calling them?”
“Because I want you to tell Mrs. Levy why we can’t do the carnival.”
My eyes flew wide. “Becks, it’s not like that.”
“Sure it is. We can’t do this thing unless everyone pitches in, and you’re choosing not to pitch in, so the carnival’s off. I just think she needs to know.”
“Becks!”
He put the phone up to his ear. “Hold on. It’s ringing.”
What? No. He couldn’t!
I grabbed the phone out of his hand.
“Fine. I’ll do it. But if I screw this up, it’s on you.”
He held up his
hands in defense. “I’ll gladly take the blame.”
I glared at him again before trudging into the bakery.
My stomach felt like it was full of rocks. My lungs were tight, and my hands were shaking.
How was I going to do this? I hated talking to people.
How could Becks make me do this?
“You’ll be fine,” Becks whispered from behind me. “Just breathe.”
Breathe? My lungs felt like they were about to explode!
I was greeted by Toby, Vicki Toll’s son.
Toby was tall and thin, with red hair cut in a military style. He was a sophomore at Bloom Academy, and one of the fastest boys on the track team.
“Hey, Lily. Hey, Becks,” he said, waving at me from behind the counter.
My mouth felt like I’d swallowed a bunch of sand. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t even shove them in my pockets because I was holding the folders with all of our information.
I must’ve been standing there for a while, because Toby looked at Becks, then at me.
“Did you want something?” he asked. “A donut or a cruller maybe?”
I wanted something, all right. I wanted to get the heck out of here. But I couldn’t do that.
One, because I was already standing inside, and two, if I ran away like I wanted to, I would let Kat down. So, I stood my ground and tried to remember our pitch.
“We’re hosting a fundraiser carnival for Kat Levy. We’re hoping to give the proceeds from the carnival to her mom for her medical bills. Do you think you can donate something?”
Toby nodded thoughtfully.
“I heard about Kat. She was super nice, and it sucks that something like that could happen to her. Wait here. I’ll get my dad. I’m sure he’ll want to donate something. He’s just in the back.”
Was he serious? I’d have to do this pitch all over again to someone else?
Why me?
“You’re doing great,” Becks whispered.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“As long as you don’t throw up until we get outside, you’ll be fine.”
I was on the verge of glaring at him, but Mr. Toll came out, and I had to work through the pitch again with him. When I was done, he gave me a sad look.
“I heard about that poor girl on the news,” he said. “It’s a shame. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to Toby here.” He ran his hand over his bald head and sighed.
“Look, I’d be happy to give you some baked goods to auction off. A few T-shirts maybe.”
It was better than nothing and, if I was being honest, I was just glad that I got through my first pitch without losing my lunch.
“Anything you can give is appreciated,” I said. “I’ll mark you down for the auction.”
I pulled the pen from the top of the folder and started writing down the store’s info.
“Like I said, we can’t do much. Maybe two thousand dollars for the donation.”
My pen froze and my head shot up. “Two... Two thousand dollars?”
Mr. Toll nodded. “I got my back worked on last year. I know how much medical bills are. And Judy Levy doesn’t need to worry about money right now.”
“Thank you,” I croaked out. “Thank you so much!”
Mr. Toll smiled as I hurried to write down his donation.
“No problem. Take a donut with you, kids.” He jerked his head at his son. “Toby, grab them two donuts. No charge.”
“Sure, Dad.” Toby hurried to fulfill his father’s wishes, and within a minute, we’d gotten two donuts and were waving goodbye to the Tolls.
When I got outside, I could barely breathe.
“Two thousand dollars,” I gasped. “Two thousand dollars. I didn’t think I’d get anything, and they donated two thousand dollars. This is amazing!”
Before I thought about it, I threw my arms around Becks’ neck, hugging him tight.
His entire body immediately tensed.
Crap.
The second I realized what I’d done I quickly released him, embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I just got excited.”
Becks’ body stayed frozen, his voice gravelly. “You’re a hugger. I remember.”
He was right. When I got excited, I needed to hug something. That something this time just happened to be Becks.
I remembered how he reacted the last time I touched him. He’d shaken me off. Got angry. Would he be just as angry now?
“I… I didn’t mean to—”
“Just forget it,” he said. “It’s fine.”
I expected him to walk away, like he’d done before. But, to my surprise, he stood there, took a huge bite of his donut, and chewed as if he were trying to ground up a sack of rocks.
My stomach felt hollowed out.
We were having such a good time. I’d gotten my first big donation and something to auction off too. Plus, Becks and I were finally getting along. Why did I have to ruin it by hugging him?
Why did I constantly ruin things?
My ringing phone saved us from more awkward conversation.
The day was hot, and there was a lot of walking, so Rose and Calla were calling it quits early and would meet us at the flower shop. There was a small kitchen setup there, which meant there would be snacks. And I was a girl who loved her snacks.
“Rose and Calla want to call it a day,” I said, shoving the phone back in my pocket. “You want to meet them at the flower shop now or do a few more stores?”
He kept his eyes on his donut, not even glancing at me. “We should probably pack it up. End on a high note, you know?”
I was glad he was back to talking about the donations and not that doomed hug.
Becks and I crossed the street and headed toward my parents’ flower shop. On any other day, I would look forward to stealing some of my dad’s killer snacks and telling my parents my good news. But my mood had plummeted because of the strain that returned between me and Becks. We were getting along so well and now it was like day one all over again. I’d already apologized, but I could still feel he was uncomfortable. I wanted to say something that would make him feel better. To ease the tension that now hung over us.
But I didn’t get the chance.
I’d just passed in front of Olive Oil Fusion when a boy, no older than eleven, came barreling down the sidewalk on his skateboard. I tried to move out of the way, but the boy moved in the same direction at the same time and slammed right into me, knocking me onto the concrete.
He landed next to me with an oomph.
“Jeez, I’m sorry,” he said, quickly hopping off the ground and staring at my face.
I groaned, feeling the growing bruises and ripped skin on my calves, knees, and thighs.
Ouch.
The boy’s face was suddenly pushed out of my line of vision, replaced with Becks’. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows pressed in concern.
“Are you okay, Lily?” he asked.
I felt a little dizzy, bruised, and battered, but otherwise nothing was broken as far as I could tell.
“I’m okay.”
“Sorry,” the kid said. He gave me another once-over, then hopped on his skateboard and continued down the street as if he’d already forgotten he’d just run me over.
I hadn’t even gotten off the ground yet!
“Your legs are bleeding,” Becks said. “Here. Let me help you up.”
His hand squeezed mine, and he pulled me to my feet.
I shook away the dizziness and tried to limp forward, but Becks was there, holding on to my arm and allowing me to lean on him. I did lean on him for a second, then I tried to walk on my own again. If me hugging him made him seize up, I was sure my leaning my entire body again his was torture.
Besides, nothing was broken. I felt okay. Well, except for the burning gashes in my legs.
“Becks, I’m fine.”
“Fine? Your legs look like someone ran a cheese grater over them.”
>
I tried to pull away again, but he continued to hold me tightly to his side, while we limped forward to my parents’ shop.
“Just hold on. We’re almost there.”
I nodded and allowed him to support me for the remainder of the half a block walk.
When my mom saw us in the doorway, she frowned.
Before I could get any words out, she was already around the counter and walking toward us.
“What happened?”
“Some kid on a skateboard slammed into her,” Becks said.
“I’m fine,” I argued. I just wanted Becks to let go of me already. I didn’t want to freak him out any more than he already was.
“Lily, your legs. You’re bleeding. Becks, can you take her in the back? There’s a kitchen back there. She can clean up.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. McAlister.”
Panic seized me. I did not want to be stuck with Becks in that tiny back room. There was barely enough room for one person back there, let alone two.
“Mom, I’m fine.”
But Becks was already leading me away from my mom and toward the tiny kitchenette.
“Great, now there’s blood all over my nice, clean floor,” Mom muttered from behind us.
The bell over the door jingled, and I heard Calla’s voice.
“What happened to her?”
Mom sighed. “You know Lily. Always getting knocked around. Good thing Becks was there. Who knows what would’ve happened.”
I wanted to tell them that if Becks wasn’t around, I would’ve limped here by myself. But we were already through the doors of the break room and I didn’t want to cause any more of a scene in front of the customers.
Becks let me go next to the small yellow couch.
“Just hang tight,” he said. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
The couch was set up directly next to a marble counter, the only thing that separated the couch from the kitchenette. I leaned on the counter instead of sitting on the couch, enjoying the cool feel of the expensive stone on my hot arms. When Becks came back a minute later with the first aid kit, I wondered if he remembered where it was from when we were kids or if Mom had told him where it was.
“Okay,” he said, squinting at my legs. “You’re scratched up pretty bad. I hope we have enough Band-Aids.”
“Becks, you don’t have to do this.”
