by Tif Marcelo
He groans, but he says, “For this climb, okay. Fine. What’s your shoe size?”
I tell him. And while he jogs off to grab them, I look across to the wall, to these jugs, painted red. They are, admittedly, large. My fingers could easily grasp them, and I can envision my toes slipping into them to help prop me up.
My brothers climbed a similar wall the other day.
He returns, and while I change out of my shoes, I say, “I…I’m scared.”
“Of heights?”
“No. It’s just that I’ve never done this.” I stand and move toward him.
“Okay, we can work with that.”
“Why do we have to work with that? Why not just leave it??” I think about all the change I’ve endured in the past month. That, and knowing there’s more up ahead, as soon as this winter break ends. What happens when Teddy goes back to school? What will I decide if I’m offered that internship? What if my financial aid package is much less than I’m hoping for?
He shrugs. “I dunno, maybe it’s to show yourself that you can do something scary. And maybe taking one small step toward something scary can lead to other things?”
“Like getting hurt?”
My words seem to halt him.
Because trying something new sometimes leads to pain. Doing something hard and scary doesn’t always lead to triumph. It happened to my dad and to our family, respectively. And it could happen to us, whenever this is over.
I don’t need to learn lessons twice—it’s my superpower.
I know I’ve taken him aback. But he doesn’t get angry. Instead, he sets both of his hands on my hips.
“Yeah, sometimes it means you do get hurt. Sometimes it means falling. But sometimes it’s grabbing that extra bit of air and then catching yourself. What I love about climbing is that there’s a little bit of faith on that wall—faith in whatever you might believe in, in stuff that’s unexplained, even in the magic of the holidays. But I’m also counting on myself. On my own hands, on my own feet, on my own brain.”
I blurt out the question that’s been swirling in my mind. “What happens when you leave for school? I know it was just a kiss. It’s probably nothing.”
His gaze drops. “I don’t know.”
My mouth quirks. “At least you’re honest.”
He squeezes my hips gently. “Hey. ‘I don’t know’ means just that. But you didn’t let me finish. I want to find out what happens. A kiss isn’t just nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m not afraid of taking a leap.” His eyes gleam. “But how about you? Are you willing to step up?”
I think about how much my dad worked to rebuild his business, about how much Teddy practices at climbing so that he doesn’t fall again. At Ms. Velasco, who charged on with the Bookworm Inn after Lola Mae passed away. My mother, who kept our family afloat. I nod.
He leads me to the wall and tells me to touch it. As I do, he gives me instructions—grab and step for all the red holds—and reminds me that he’s right there. I listen to him intently. He assists me into my harness, pulls on my straps.
“I’ve got you,” he reminds me. “And, yeah, so much relies on your muscle to get you up there, but in the beginning, especially when you’re learning, you’ve got to lean on the belay too. Trust that someone else will make up for the moments you miss.”
He backs up to his position and leaves me alone with the wall. I grab the red jug just above me and press my foot into the bottom one.
Then I hike my left leg so my left toe connects with a red jug and swing my right hand up to grab the nearest one. Fear jolts through me; I’m no longer on the ground. My heart ratchets up to my throat, but as I focus the weight of my fear into my legs and hands, into my fingers and toes, the truth becomes clear.
I’m holding myself up.
I look back down, to Teddy, who smiles up at me. “You’re doing great.”
I trust him; I’m ready for more. This time, I hike my right leg up, and then my left hand. My heart soars. I do it again. And again.
“All right, Lila, come back down,” Teddy yells from below.
“I’m only halfway up.”
“I know. But since this is your first time, let’s see how you do climbing back down.”
“But—” I object; my competitive spirit has kicked in. Now that I’m so close to that bell, I can surely reach it.
“Lila,” he calls out sweetly.
I look down, and the realization of how high I am catches up to me. Sweat races down my back.
“One jug at a time, Lila.”
I even out my breathing, slowly but surely, and with shaking limbs, climb down the wall. By the time my feet hit the mat, I’m overcome with both relief and joy. When Teddy approaches, I launch myself at him and throw my arms around his neck. “I did it.”
“You did,” he says into my hair when he sets me down. “You took the leap. You’re the bravest person I know.”
But later, as I watch Teddy navigate a boulder from the sidelines with adrenaline still running through me and a copy of Holiday by the Lake on my lap, an email rings in from BookGalley.
This time, I wonder if I’m brave enough.
Dear Lila,
On behalf of BookGalley, I would like to extend our thanks for applying to our internship program. After careful consideration of all qualified applicants, we are pleased to offer you an interview via video chat. If this still interests you, please respond to this email so we can schedule a time with Martina Flowers, our BookGalley HR director.
Sincerely,
Alexis Lehman
Internship Coordinator
BookGalley
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 29
“So what are you going to do?” The muscles in Carm’s forearms flex as she squeezes the clear bag of green icing onto her cookie. We’re at Yule Be Baking, the pastry shop on Second Street, set up in a windowed-corner with three other couples for a 2:00 p.m. cookie decorating class.
“I’m not sure. I still have to make the video interview appointment.” I look down at my cookie, which is supposed to be my version of a decorated reindeer. Except it is a mess. My piping skills have left too much to be desired, and frankly, my patience is shot. So I decide to take a bite out of the cookie instead and stare out the window.
Downtown Holly is abuzz. While the town is usually busy before Christmas, it’s post-Christmas when we see the flood of tourists. Perhaps it’s the fact that New Year’s Eve signals fun, or that this year, visitors are flocking in early for New Year’s Eve by the Lake. Whatever the case, the vibe is joyous.
The cookie is delicious, and I take another bite. “What would you do?”
“About the interview? No question. Do it.” She lays down her piping bag and gestures to her cookie. “Look at that perfect layer of icing.”
“It is perfect.”
She scrunches her nose at my disaster cookie. “You’re not even trying.”
“I don’t think my icing’s the right consistency, though it is delicious.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re stressed about this internship. Let’s talk about your pros and cons again.”
I groan. “I’ve been talking myself through those for the last twenty-four hours.” Since I received the email yesterday, I even contemplated broaching my parents for their opinion. But that would entail spilling everything—including my years of being the anonymous blogger behind TnT.
“What’s stopping you?” Carm prods.
“Besides my parents? Revealing who I am to the world. That it will be a time commitment I can’t juggle right now. It’s another job.”
“But the internship is paid, right? It would help with Syracuse.”
“That’s true.” I lick my lips. The sugar gives me a boost.
“And is it bad for p
eople to know who you are?” She picks up the piping bag of red icing.
“I…I don’t know. Honestly, it’s been nice to be able to write without anyone knowing who I am. I mean, besides you and Teddy.”
“But what about it do you not want people to know?”
“I don’t know.” I take another bite of cookie.
Carm lifts her gingerbread man that she iced with an ugly red sweater. “Ta-da!”
“It’s perfect.”
“I started to do a Santa jacket and switched it up.”
“Very smart.”
“A person’s got a right to change their mind, Lila.” Her stare is pointed.
“Yes, Mom.” I roll my eyes.
“And…speaking of…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell your parents.” She wipes her fingers with a napkin. “I mean, after an initial freak-out.”
I shiver at the thought, and we both laugh. I relax into the moment despite the solemn turn of the conversation. The music piping through the speakers is a soothing instrumental holiday song. I’m with a friend who’s basically family. We’re icing cookies while staring onto a pretty sidewalk view. “It hasn’t been so bad, our Mission: Holly excursion. Slightly cheesy, but fun.”
“Are you feeling the spirit?” She grins.
“I am, thanks to you.”
“I’m not sure it’s just me who’s helping you do that.”
“Stop.” I pick up the next cookie from the stack. “I’m trying to work here.” Though it feels like the sugar has gone straight to my head. After yesterday’s climbing session, Teddy and I hung out the rest of the afternoon. Tonight we plan to meet up again, this time with his climbing friends.
“I’ll only stop if you quit smiling.”
So I suck in my cheeks, which makes us roll with laughter.
“You really like him,” she says.
“I do.”
“I bet Ms. Velasco and your parents are loving this.”
At the mention of our families, I still. “They don’t know. And everything’s so new with us. The other night was—”
“The other night? This calls for extra cookies to make. Or eat. Because I want to know everything. Wait here.” She heads to the counter to purchase more plain sugar cookies.
My cheeks burn with my leftover glee.
* * *
“That was vicious. My quads are killing me,” Jared says.
“Your quads? My lats,” Matt counters. “How’s your ankle, Teddy?”
I look at Teddy, mid sip of my iced tea. We’re at Poinsettia’s Pizza, snug in a booth. All around us are locals huddled around pies lifted up on stands. Only bits of cheese are left on our raised silver platters; two pies gone in fifteen minutes.
His ankle?
I can’t make out Teddy’s expression in the glare of the canned lights hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t mention an injury, despite the dozens of texts we exchanged today, mostly about Holiday by the Lake, which he started reading after our climbing session. When I walked into Poinsettia’s an hour ago, Teddy and his friends were already seated.
“It’s fine,” he says.
Except there’s a hitch to his tone.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I was bouldering. Just let go too quickly and twisted it when I landed. It isn’t a big deal.”
Jared snorts. “It sure was. I was clear across the gym and heard you yell after you flopped.” He claps his hands together for effect, and the couple in the booth behind him turns. Jared and Matt laugh, and Teddy snickers.
“I’ve got a brace on.” He shifts and directs my attention under the table, to a brace wrapped around his ankle. “I hurt it before, so I’m used to putting this on whenever I have to.”
“Not your head, though?”
“Nope.” His eyes flash a warning, and it takes me aback.
While the group moves on in the conversation, a leftover weird vibe runs between us; even as we pay and the other two head out, Teddy and I are left in an awkward silence.
After a beat, he speaks up. “You know, when I talked about my concussion, that was meant to be a secret.”
“I…I’m sorry. I was just concerned.”
“I get it.” He reaches out to take my hand and squeezes it. “But I didn’t tell you all that so you would worry about me. It’s why I picked a college that’s far enough away from my parents, and why I haven’t told Tita Lou. I want to be able to decide if I’m okay. I don’t want to be held back.”
One of the things about reading and blogging about so many books is that I’ve learned that everything has to be placed into context. Right now, in this context, I understand exactly what Teddy is saying, and yet, the words—I don’t want to be held back—land between us with an unavoidable thud.
Is this just about his secret? Or is it about us as a couple?
“Okay,” is all I can say.
He heaves a breath. “She’s going to see my brace.”
I still. “She?”
“Tita Lou. She’s going to ask what happened. And I…I don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Where does she think you are?”
“Out.” His lips flatten into a line. “I don’t give her much information.”
“Then let her know that you were with me.” I smile.
“No, I don’t want to bring you into—”
I shake my head. “Just say we were sledding down Wonderhill. If she asks me about it tomorrow at work, I’ll cover for you.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. My worries from a few seconds ago dissipate. “With the New Year’s Eve event, things are more tense than usual. I do plan to tell her about the competition, maybe after New Year’s Eve. And about us, if that’s okay with you.”
“I…” It’s official, I have become the ice that’s melting in my iced tea. “It’s totally okay with me.”
“Good. Because I hate all of these secrets. And I just need a little more time, to strategize telling Tita Lou and my parents, about my climbing, and even this ankle. I hate being a liar and a hypocrite. But I also want to do this competition. My conscience, though…it’s killing me.” He rubs my knuckle with his thumb. “Being with you, and seeing how you are with your friends and family…I miss that. I miss having people who care about what I’m doing. And I realized it’s not because they don’t care, but it’s because I don’t let them in. I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to find my way through this.”
“I know, Teddy.” I snuggle into him to show him my support, and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. He kisses me sweetly, but even the press of his lips doesn’t take away my own guilt.
Because I’m in the exact same boat.
What am I going to do about my secrets?
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 31
Finally, New Year’s Eve at the Lake is here! On my mother’s calendar, the date is circled in red, and Mom and I picked out our outfits yesterday. We got ready at 8:00 p.m., and now, at 10:00 p.m., our minivan rolls up Bookworm Drive after security checks our tickets partway up.
The driveway is lit by the red lights of the vehicles waiting their turn, and when we enter the parking lot, Chief Dasher welcomes each vehicle. Mom rolls down the window. “Hey, Chief!”
“Hi, Cat. There’s ample parking in the back, and you can go in the employee entrance since you have Lila with you.”
“Thank you!” Mom says, bypassing the cars weaseling their way through the small spaces and parking farther down. We touch up our makeup and grab our Holiday by the Lake books and our phones (I check twice to make sure I have the right one) before jumping out.
Music blares from inside the Inn. Still, it can’t compete with the pounding of my heart. Jonah Johanso
n. Remy Castillo. Teddy Rivera. All in one place. Add it to my looming decision about the internship interview, and it’s like all of my emotions are bursting out at once.
We walk through the employee entrance, and the passageway from the Inn to the gift shop teems with employees. Everyone is on their own trajectory, carrying product or speaking into walkie-talkies. And when we enter the gift shop, it is a whole other level of loud.
Mom grabs a flyer from KC, who tackles me with a hug before being pulled away, and eyes her watch. “Looks like everyone is hanging around here until the panel, which is in about ten minutes. And fireworks at midnight, then the book signing.” She presses the flyer against her chest with dramatic flair and breathes, “I can’t believe we’re going to meet Remy.”
I hug her, she’s so cute.
We’re interrupted by Mrs. Bruno, a nurse and one of Mom’s coworkers. As they start chatting, it’s the perfect time for me to escape. “I’m going to walk around to see who’s here.”
“Okay, Iha…” Her attention drifts back to Mrs. Bruno midsentence. Hence the reason why, when we attend parties, we have to give Mom a thirty-minute heads-up before our exit because her farewells are so lengthy. There’s always last-minute juicy gossip.
I’m sweating by the time I make my way to my library, where people are milling about looking at the spines. I feel a tug against my arm. It’s Teddy, dressed in his Bookworm Inn uniform. He gestures to the back, and with a final look at Mom, who has joined a circle with other Holly General staff, I follow him down toward the break room. He pulls me in, shuts the door, and locks it.
I burst into a giggle, then wrap my arms around his neck.
When he stares down at me with his brown eyes, arms encircling my waist, everything is perfect. I drink in both him and this moment. It’s already the best New Year’s Eve ever, and the festivities haven’t even started yet. And though it’s only been a day since we’ve seen each other, and only a half hour since our last text, it feels like too much time has passed. “How is it out there?” I ask.
