Any Boy but You (North Pole, Minnesota)

by Julie Hammerle

  Harper’s brother, Sam, who was working at the video store, ran out right away. He got to Harper at about the same time Elena and Oliver did. The two guys wrapped Harper’s arms around their shoulders and dragged her to the safety of the sidewalk, while Elena salvaged her phone and wiped slush off the screen. She dashed toward Harper and surveyed the damage. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” Elena held up a hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Elena, you’re wearing mittens.”

  “Very good,” Elena said. “You passed the test.”

  “Is my phone okay?” Harper reached for it, and Elena handed it to her. When the screen glowed to life, Harper sighed in relief.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Sam.

  “I’m fine. Totally fine.” Harper pushed the boys away and tried to stand. Her right ankle crumbled beneath her weight.

  Elena gasped. “Should we call 911?”

  “No.” Sam ducked under her arm and helped his sister take the pressure off her leg. He glanced around. “She just needs to go to urgent care.”

  “I do not,” said Harper.

  “You really, really do,” Elena said.

  Sam nodded toward the video store. “I’ve gotta close up. Maurice won’t be back for an hour or so.”

  “I’ll take her.” Oliver reached for Harper. She pushed him away, while still trying to open her Stash Grab app.

  “I’ll go with,” Elena said.

  Sam shook his head. “I’ll take her. She’s my clumsy sister.”

  “Yeah, and you’re a graceful swan,” Harper said, scrolling through the apps on her phone.

  “If you want to take her, Sam, I can watch the store for you,” Elena said. “It’s dead in there anyway.”

  Sam grinned, nudging Oliver in the side. “Everybody’s out and about playing Stash Grab. The town is of a singular mindset. You did that, man.” Sam nodded toward the door. “You don’t mind?” he asked Elena.

  “Not at all.” She couldn’t stop staring at her friend’s leg. Her booted right foot dangled limply beneath her knee.

  Sam tried to guide Harper toward his car, but she rooted herself to the ground with her one good leg.

  “But Stash Grab,” she whined.

  “You’re done,” said Elena. “Go get your ankle fixed. Please. For the love of all that is good and pure.”

  Harper pouted, while she simultaneously winced in pain.

  “She really needs to go now,” Elena said.

  Oliver held out his hand. “Give me your phone. I’ll hunt Stashes for you.”

  “That’s cheating,” said Sam.

  “He doesn’t know any of the answers,” said Elena. “I can vouch for that.”

  Oliver waved dismissively at Harper. “And she’s not going to win anyway.”

  “Yes, I am.” Harper straightened up.

  Elena patted her head. “You keep telling yourself that. You’re, like, fifteenth on the leader board. The truth hurts sometimes.” She put her hands on her friend’s shoulders, then pulled her in for a big hug, careful not to jostle the bad leg. “Go get fixed, damn it.”

  Elena and Oliver stood on the curb next to each other and watched as Sam helped Harper hop over to the old, rusted out pickup truck that his family had had for years. Convinced her friend was in good hands, Elena sighed. “Well, I’d better go in there and watch another empty store. It’s what I’m good at. At least it will distract me from worrying about Harper.”

  Oliver followed her into the store, and Elena felt nervous all of a sudden, first date nervous. “Don’t you have Stashes to catch?” she asked.

  “I didn’t want to abandon you.” He stared out the window and down the road toward the hospital. He spun around. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “I’m sure she will be,” said Elena, trying to push the image of her friend’s mangled ankle from her mind. “She’s a tough broad.”

  “What do you need help with?” He rubbed his hands together and blew warm air into his hands.

  Elena shrugged. “I guess we’re supposed to hang out and help anyone who comes in, if anyone comes in.” Elena dropped her bag and outerwear onto the floor behind the counter.

  “This place is so cool.” Oliver glanced around. The video store was like the Beast’s library for movie fans. There were shelves and shelves of DVDs and VHS tapes, very old school. Posters from movies ranging from Citizen Kane to Wet Hot American Summer lined the walls. He stopped in the horror movie section and checked out a DVD copy of Susperia. “It’s amazing they stay in business.”

  “A lot of tourists rent movies here, because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not a lot to do at night in North Pole.”

  “Especially not in the winter.” Oliver glanced up at her.

  “Right,” she agreed. “Also, this is the only movie theater in town, and they’re always doing events, like they’ve got a rom-com marathon coming up this Friday for people who aren’t going to the dance.” She coughed. Oh my God, she just said “dance.” “And of course there’s the Saturday night classic movie show. Have you ever gone to one of those?”

  Oliver shook his head.

  “It’s a lot of fun. It’s, like, the thing to do if you’ve got nothing going on. Maurice charges five bucks a person, and you get a pop and a bag of popcorn.” She stepped around the counter and walked toward the back of the store, where she opened a door and flipped on the light switch. “See?”

  Oliver came over and checked out the room, which was a little screening space filled with couches, beanbags, and other comfy chairs. A large projection screen took up one whole wall. This was also one of the best make out spots in town. She’d spent a few evenings with Kevin Snow on those beanbags last year. Barf.

  “Do you realize”—Oliver leaned against the doorjamb across from her—“we have not fought once all day.”

  “Don’t ruin it.” Elena folded her arms and pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a grin.

  “I don’t want to ruin it. It’s nice.” He nodded around the store. “I like it here.”

  “In the video store?” she asked.

  “In North Pole.” His eyes grew stormy. “I’m moving back to Florida.”

  “What?” she whispered. This was news to her. She’d been going on and on for days about her parents potentially packing the family’s bags for Wisconsin, but Stashiuk4Prez had never once mentioned leaving the upper Midwest.

  He stared deeply into her eyes, and Elena wondered what he saw now—his mortal enemy, a borderline friend, or the girl he’d been chatting with unknowingly for weeks? Did he somehow know? Did he sense it? “I just found out last night. And”—he ran his fingers through his copper hair—“don’t shoot the messenger this time, okay?” He grinned, but Elena’s stomach dropped to her ankles. “I don’t think our parents are having an affair. Actually, I found this plan your mom had come up with to save the stores—both stores—and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “My mom?”

  Oliver nodded. “I found my dad on the couch yesterday, drunk and just, ugh, and he had this stack of papers about merging the two stores and sort of, like, sharing the burden. Your store would carry the fall and winter sports equipment. My dad’s store would do spring and summer.” He paused. “I thought it was a really solid idea, actually.”

  Elena blinked, waiting for him to go on. She’d spent the last several days sharing confidences with the boy who was supposed to be her archenemy, but this was the strangest conversation she’d had in a while.

  “My dad won’t go for it. He said we’re moving back to Florida, and he wants to work things out with my mom, though I don’t see that ending well. And he tossed your mom’s idea in the fire. Literally.”

  Without thinking, Elena reached over, grabbed his hand, and squeezed. To her amazement, he didn’t brush her away or recoil in disgust. He squeezed her hand back, then let it go. “We should come here sometime,” he said.

  Elena’s heart pounded. “
Yeah,” she said.

  “I mean with Harper or whoever,” he added.

  “Of course. With Harper.”

  As if on cue, Harper’s phone buzzed, and Oliver held it up. “I should probably catch her a few Stashes. She’ll kill me if she gets back and finds out I’ve done nothing for her score.”

  “She literally will,” said Elena.

  He gripped her hand one more time before waltzing out the front door.

  …

  Replaying the previous scene in his head, Oliver mindlessly caught a few Stashes for Harper as he wandered down Main Street away from the video store. He had just carried on a civil conversation with Elena Chestnut. A very civil conversation. More than civil. He had opened up to her about his family moving back to Florida—something he hadn’t told anyone, not even proud_hoser—and she had been very supportive. So supportive, she even touched his hand; and instead of running away screaming, he touched hers back.

  Oliver had entered The Twilight Zone.

  Were he and Elena Chestnut becoming…friends?

  He shuddered and checked the Stash Grab app, trying to lose himself in the world of tiny, computer-generated Stan Stashiuks. He had only imagined a connection to Elena. That’s all it was. He was sad about leaving North Pole, and he was desperate to latch onto any glimmer of hope. Letting Elena in on their parents’ plan to save the stores was that ray of light. He wanted her—needed her—to be his ally in this, and he had projected that role onto her. She wasn’t his friend. She had never been his friend. He had no doubt willingly missed a very obvious negative undertone to Elena’s words. It was entirely possible she had been making fun of him the entire time, but his brain was too big an emotional mess to detect it.

  It was the only rational explanation.

  Cold and hungry, he rambled toward Santabucks for sustenance. Brian Garland, Danny’s brother, who was working the counter, greeted Oliver. “Back again?”

  “My stomach’s about to eat itself.” Oliver clutched his midsection.

  “Did I see you playing Stash Grab?” asked Brian. “Isn’t that off-sides? You created the game.”

  Oliver glanced down at his phone. “I’m helping out Harper. She hurt her leg and refused to go to the hospital because she needed to catch Stashes.” Shrugging, Oliver glanced up at Brian. “I told her I’d help her. I don’t actually know the answers.”

  Brian cocked an eyebrow.

  “I don’t,” said Oliver. “My sister wrote the questions and placed the Stashes. Anyway, Harper’s so far behind, it doesn’t matter.”

  “True that,” agreed Brian. “She’s never going to catch Danny. He wins everything, you know.”

  “I’ve heard,” said Oliver.

  “Speaking of Harper.” Brian filled a paper cup with hot cocoa. “You were in here with Elena before.”

  A wave of fatigue washed over Oliver. He’d been trying so hard to evict Elena from his mind, and now here was Brian bringing her up again. The universe hated Oliver. “She’s tutoring me.”

  Brian placed a lid on the cup and handed it to Oliver, who sipped a bit of cocoa that had spilled onto the cover. “Is it true?”

  Oliver slipped one of those cardboard sleeves over his cup. “Is what true?”

  “Is she moving to Wisconsin?”

  Oliver dropped his drink. The contents of the cup splashed against his boots and jeans, scalding his shins.

  “Shoot,” said Brian, dashing around the counter, wielding a wet rag. “Was it too hot?”

  “N-no,” stammered Oliver. “It was my fault. I’m clumsy.” He crouched down and gathered the empty cup and busted lid while Brian wiped up the hot cocoa. “You said ‘Wisconsin’?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Brian straightened up, dropped the dirty rag on the counter, and grabbed a mop. “My mom, always the gossip, heard Elena’s mom talking to somebody about it.”

  “Oh,” said Oliver. “So, just rumors.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I thought so, but then her dad came in here the other day and said something about how their store wasn’t doing so hot, and maybe it was time for a change.”

  Bile rose to Oliver’s throat.

  “It sucks if she is leaving,” said Brian, dunking the mop into the pail. “You never want to see the hot girls leave.”

  “Elena Chestnut?” said Oliver.

  Brian laughed, walking back behind the counter. “I should know my audience better. You’re Oliver Prince. You probably think she looks like an ogre or something.”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” said Oliver.

  Brian grabbed a fresh cup and started pouring more hot cocoa.

  Oliver waved him off. “Never mind.”

  “You don’t want it?”

  Oliver frantically shook his head. “I lost my appetite.”

  “You sure, man?”

  Oliver nodded.

  “Sorry.” Brian grinned. “Probably all the Elena Chestnut talk.”

  “That’s it.”

  Numb, Oliver floated out of Santabucks. Back on the sidewalk, he leaned against the outer wall of the café and watched his fellow townsfolk scurry up and down Main Street, catching Stashes, completely unaware that Oliver’s entire world had just been upended. He drew in three long, deep breaths, then assessed the information he’d just learned.

  Elena’s family’s business was failing, and they were moving to Wisconsin.

  proud_hoser’s family’s business was closing, and they, too, were moving to Wisconsin.

  Coincidence?

  Though he hadn’t eaten in hours, Oliver’s stomach was full of concrete.

  Working himself into a fit, he joined the throngs of people marching along Main Street. Elena had hoodwinked him. She had known the whole time and was playing him for a fool. She despised him, and tricking him into falling for her online persona was her last big screw you to Oliver Prince before peacing out to Wisconsin.

  Unless it wasn’t.

  Unless she hadn’t known who he was this whole time.

  But she had to have known. She had to have been messing with him. That was precisely the kind of thing Elena Chestnut would do. It was the only option that fit the narrative he’d constructed in his head.

  Suppressing the acid reflux in his throat, he slid to a halt outside the video store. Elena was still in there, leaning over the counter, reading a magazine. Her long, silky dark brown hair cascaded over one arm like a chocolate waterfall.

  As if she knew she was being watched, Elena shook her hair behind her shoulders and stood straight, turning her gaze toward the window. A slow smile engulfed her entire face as she caught sight of Oliver across the street. His renegade facial muscles pulled themselves into a grin, despite his mind’s protestations. Elena waved, and Oliver had to physically push his arm down to his side to keep his rogue limb from responding in kind. Then he took off running.

  To distract himself once again, Oliver played Stash Grab for Harper—ducking into alleyways and traipsing through backyards. He focused hard on the questions and started trailing Craig and Dinesh, whom he’d found hunting Stashes in the park. Oliver was a lone wolf on the prowl, and the diversion worked. He pushed Elena Chestnut and proud_hoser from his mind for a full thirty minutes, until a snowball smacked him hard on the right eye just outside Santabucks.

  “What the—?” He shook the snow from his face and arms and wiped his eyes. The wet sludge dripped down his cheek and numbed his skin. When he’d regained his vision, he caught sight of four people darting past him, their booted footsteps pounding the sidewalk. The one bringing up the rear had long, dark, wavy hair.

  Without thought or hesitation, Oliver loped after the group, sprinting like he’d never sprinted before just to keep them in his sights. When he finally caught up, he found Danny, Kevin, and Star facing off against Elena, who was brandishing a snowball, so tightly packed it was almost pure ice. Panting, Oliver ducked into the florist’s doorway.

  “Leave him alone,” Elena shouted. “He’s from Florida.”<
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  “What do you care?” asked Kevin.

  “I don’t. I just don’t enjoy seeing you pick on people for no reason.”

  “Do you love him?” asked Danny in a sing-song voice. Oliver’s cheeks flamed.

  “Shut up,” said Elena. “You’re so immature.”

  “Elena loves Oliver. Elena loves Oliver.” Danny started the chant, but, to their credit, neither Star nor Kevin joined in the chorus.

  “You’re five years old, Danny,” Elena said. “This is not a good look for you.”

  “She’s right,” Star agreed.

  Oliver reached into the snow-covered flowerpot next to the florist’s door and formed a tightly-packed snowball of his own. He might have been from Florida, but North Pole was in his blood. He wound up, stepped onto the sidewalk, and hurled the snowball—smack—into Danny’s face.

  Kevin and Star glared at Oliver. Elena whirled around and her fiery gaze met his. He flashed a smile at her, and she returned it with her eyes.

  “Bested by a Florida boy.” Elena tossed her own snowball to the ground.

  “Whatever, Elena.” Danny wiped his face with the sleeve of his parka. “Guess who just passed you on the leader board.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I was out of commission for an hour. I’ll catch up.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Kevin. “Danny wins at everything. You know that. Everyone knows that.”

  “Not this time,” said Elena.

  Star yawned, apparently bored by both the snowball shenanigans and the trash talk.

  One eyebrow lifted, Danny folded his arms across his chest. “You know what they say, Elena. You sneeze you—” He stopped himself.

  “What is it, Danny?” asked Oliver, stepping toward the group. “What do they say?”

  “You sneeze, you…leeze?” said Elena, giggling.

  “Eh,” said Danny. “You know what I meant. I can’t believe I wasted so much time talking to you. I’ve got Stashes to grab.” He nodded toward the east end of Main Street, and Kevin and Star marched behind him.

  Now that he and Elena had lost the buffer of Danny’s unappealing competitive spirit, Oliver stood motionless, watching the others retreat with his hands behind his back. But when Danny, Star, and Kevin had rounded the corner past the video store, Elena turned toward Oliver, her eyes sparkling. “You! Nice snowball! Are you sure you’re not from here?”