by Jen Malone
When she spots me, she breaks off. “Think you’re good to go?” she asks Guy Diamond.
“Allllll set!” he replies with a tiny puff of glitter.
“Have fun,” she says, smiling, before tugging me outside.
“Where are we going? You can’t leave your own gala!” I protest, and we step onto a branch.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I just wanted to steal a second of quiet with you. Or, at least…a second of less loud.”
Between DJ Suki’s music and the applause and shouts of delight from all the Trolls in there, we’d have to go to the other side of Troll Village to find anything resembling actual quiet.
Harper is looking at me with soft eyes. “I know I’ve said this about fourteen thousand times over the past couple of days, but thank you again for trusting me enough to leave me alone with the decision. I know how much you love to help and how good you are at it, so I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to walk out on me like that.”
“I never would have if I didn’t think it was the best thing I could do for you.”
She hugs me. “I know. And you were right. It was the best way to help me. I needed to learn I could do it all by myself. Now I feel really confident that I can keep this gallery running. I’m sure I’ll have some growing pains as I go, but at least now I truly believe I can solve any problems that come up.”
My toothy grin reveals my pride in her. “Plus, your idea for tonight is rocking the house. Which I knew it would. See, if you trust yourself and follow your heart, everything turns out exactly how it’s supposed to.”
Harper grins and lifts her chin to nod at the sign hanging over the pod.
“Did you mean to say Follow Your Art?” she asks with a giggle.
I laugh, too, and add, “When it comes to you, Harper, I’m pretty sure following your heart and following your art are the very same thing.”
“I’m pretty sure they are, too,” she says with a happy sigh. We both take in the sign, hand in hand, for a second.
Then I notice she’s absently tapping her foot to the beat, and I say, “Okay, this is all great bonding and I love you and all, but we’re missing out on valuable wiggle-our-butts-off time in there, you know.”
“Agreed!” She tugs me toward the entrance to the gallery. “And I happen to have insider knowledge that Cooper has a hidden stash of cupcakes under the runway.”
“Lemon-Lime Boysenberry whatsit?”
And with that, we burst back into the gallery, ready for anything and everything that comes next.
