Any Boy but You (North Pole, Minnesota)

by Julie Hammerle

  He held up his mittened hand. “Scout’s honor.” A neon sign kept flashing in his brain: this girl is proud_hoser. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with that information. Should he shun her or…not?

  Uncertainty painted Elena’s face as well. She peered past him, toward the other end of Main Street and their respective sporting goods stores. “Well,” she said, shrugging. “I should probably catch some Stashes.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Oliver. “I told Harper I would—”

  “Yeah.”

  He was supposed to say good-bye in this moment. He was supposed to wave or flip her the bird or something, and they’d go their separate ways. But he didn’t want to part ways. Elena had chased down Danny and his friends for Oliver. He didn’t want her to leave, which was terrifying and exciting all at once.

  He couldn’t believe the words as they dribbled out of his mouth. “We could…team up…?” he said, shaking his head. The concept was so foreign, yet felt so impossibly right.

  Elena blinked.

  “I mean, if you want.”

  “I do want.” Elena exhaled. “I’d like that…teaming up…with you.”

  Things had now veered to the edge of “too real” and Oliver had to return the conversation to his and Elena’s particular stasis, what was normal and distant and safe. “You know, because we’ll be able to help each other answer the questions. You probably know more than I do.”

  “Obviously,” she said. “Obviously that’s what I meant. The game.”

  “The game,” he agreed.

  The two of them strolled side-by-side in silence, each of them keeping their eyes on their respective phones. They ducked into several different stores on Main Street and caught their Stashes, all business. At Frank’s hardware store, Oliver and Elena fielded the inevitable, “You two?” question from the storeowner himself. Frank peered at them over his half-moon reading glasses, a frown of confusion on his face. Oliver got the sense that Frank might be doubting his own eyes.

  Elena handled it. “Feud’s over.”

  “I gotta say, it’s about time,” said Frank, folding his arms across the bib of his overalls.

  As the two of them made a loop through the residential roads north of Main Street, Elena paused in front of her house. Her parents were inside watching television, perched on opposite ends of the couch.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She turned to him, knitting her brow. The beams of light from the streetlamps danced across her dark waves. “Ever since you mentioned it, I’ve been thinking about the plan my mom had for combining Chestnut’s and Prince’s.” She paused. “You really think it could’ve worked?”

  He sighed, watching her mom and dad sitting so far apart on the same piece of furniture. “I mean, from what I could see before my dad tossed the plan in the fireplace, it looked interesting.” He shrugged. “Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I don’t want to go back to Florida.”

  She frowned. “My parents want to move to Wisconsin.”

  “I heard.” Their eyes locked, and Oliver wondered what she meant by telling him that. Was it a test to figure out if he knew she was proud_hoser? Or was it just her opening up to him as he had opened up to her? “I wish neither of us had to leave.”

  A sad smile played on her lips. She drew in a deep breath and opened her mouth like she was about to say something, something important. But then she stopped herself, clamping her lips shut.

  Oliver let her off the hook. Now wasn’t the time to be serious. Now wasn’t the time to confess truths and deal with who knew what when. This was the time to live the impossible—Oliver Prince and Elena Chestnut were enjoying each other’s company. “Let’s run,” he said, making a move toward the end of the street. “To the park. Running always makes me feel better.”

  “Me, too,” she said, winking. “Race you.”

  He took off sprinting, even though he knew how badly he was about to lose.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elena booked it down Spruce Street toward Main. Though Oliver had gotten a quick jump on her, she managed to pass him easily, leaving him huffing a half block behind her. She turned down Mistletoe Road, her boots beating a heavy tattoo on the pavement.

  What was this night? And what did it mean that Oliver had already heard that she was moving to Wisconsin? Had he put it together that she was proud_hoser? He must have. And he was still here. He was still hanging out with her. And she was still hanging out with him, too.

  Her stomach bubbling with giddy nerves, she slowed as she entered the park. A bunch of middle schoolers were on the field near the St. Nicholas statue, making snow angels. Grinning, Elena ran to them, flopped onto the snow in their vicinity, and waved her arms and legs frantically. The kids jumped up right away and abandoned her for the playground, but Elena stayed there in her frozen cocoon, eyes skyward, watching the stars blinking between the clouds.

  “Hey,” Oliver said a few minutes later, kicking a clump of snow onto her leg.

  Elena sat, elbows behind her, propping herself up. Oliver had leaned forward, his hands clutching his knees. He was panting. She grinned. “Rough run?”

  “I’m not at your level, let’s just say.”

  “You’ll get there,” she said.

  “We’ll see.” As if near death, he flopped over onto the snow and lay near her, but a few, safe feet away.

  Elena flapped her arms and legs again, digging a deeper snow angel. “You make one,” she said.

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Never ever?” she asked.

  “Never ever, ever.”

  “Well, it’s not hard.”

  He echoed her movements and Elena internalized their synchronized whooshing sounds as she watched the gray clouds above them sail past the stars. Then his foot hit hers, and the two of them froze like that—boot-to-boot. Suddenly the world was silent, except for the laughter of the middle schoolers in the playground.

  “How much longer do I have to pretend I like being outside in this weather?” he asked.

  “It’s a beautiful night.” Elena flipped to her side and propped herself up on her elbow. She peered over at Oliver, who was still flat on his back. His floppy copper hair had formed a halo around his head and his brown eyes gazed up at her. Neither of them had looked at their phones in a while. This was no longer a Stash Grabbing expedition. This was a date. Elena’s heart thumped in her chest.

  “I’m freezing,” he said.

  She bit her lip, wondering if she could offer to warm him up. Instead, she said, “You’re such a noob.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’m a noob? Well, come to Florida sometime and we’ll see how you…What’s something that Floridians do that you can’t do in Minnesota?”

  “Surf?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Swim?”

  “People swim in Minnesota.”

  “Wrestle alligators?”

  He nodded. “That’s it. That’s something everyone in Florida knows how to do.”

  “Do you know how to skate?” Elena asked.

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Your parents own a sporting goods store. How many of the products would you say you actually know how to use?” Elena took off a glove and ran her fingers through her own hair just to stop herself from reaching down and touching Oliver’s.

  He stared at her hand combing her hair as he wrinkled his brow in thought. “Hmm…three?” His eyes met hers and he winked.

  Elena smiled back, but her chest tightened. “Are you really moving to Florida? Really, really?”

  Oliver scrunched up his nose. “Looks like it.”

  “And just when I was starting to not despise you.” She kept her tone light, but she knew her eyes didn’t match her voice.

  “The sudden lack of hatred is mutual.” He bit his lip.

  Not being able to take the tension anymore, Elena stood up, grabbed Oliver’s gloved hands in hers, and yanked him up from t
he ground.

  “What are we doing?” he asked.

  “Skating,” she said. “I’m not letting you move back to Florida until you know how to skate.”

  She dragged him toward the other end of the park, past the St. Nicholas statue. Just beyond that was a frozen pond, where most of the kids in town played hockey or pretended to be Olympic figure skaters.

  Elena tugged Oliver onto the pond. “Come on. We’re going to skate. In our boots.”

  Oliver, gripping her forearm, stepped gingerly onto the ice. When she knew he’d gotten his bearings, Elena led him to the middle of the pond. She plucked his hands from her arm, and then, hand in hand, pulled him around the ice. He kept up, moving his feet in synch with hers as the two of them floated over the ice like they were in a movie. She was about to comment on his prowess when Oliver’s shoe hit a bump and he took them both flying.

  Oliver landed facedown, and Elena lay next to him, prone, her right arm draped across his back. She turned to face him, her cheek against the ice, and he did the same. They were nose-to-nose. His swirling cloud of breath danced in front of her eyes.

  She squeezed his shoulder, though she wasn’t sure if he could feel the action through her mitten and his parka. “You’re a good guy, Oliver Prince,” she said.

  “I am?” he asked, his eyes crinkling.

  Elena wondered if he got the reference, if he remembered the day weeks ago when he’d told her the same, that someone had vouched for his goodness. Elena had been willing to believe that about Stashiuk4Prez, but only recently had she come to see the same thing in Oliver Prince.

  Their lips were so close, they should’ve been kissing by now. Elena wanted that to happen, she wanted him to make it happen. Kevin Snow would’ve easily been on the case by now. But part of her wasn’t ready for that yet. This wasn’t their moment to kiss. Not tonight. Not with so much left unsaid. Maybe Oliver felt that, too.

  She pushed herself up on all fours, stood, and helped Oliver from the ice. As they paused there in the middle of the pond, all four mittened hands clutching one another, Elena asked, “Do you have a date to the dance tomorrow?” She chewed on her bottom lip. Everything was now out in the open. There was no more hiding behind fake names and avatars.

  Oliver’s eyes sparkled. “I’m kind of meeting someone there.”

  “Me, too,” she said seriously. “And I’m really, really looking forward to it. Really.”

  “Same,” he said. “She’s pretty special, from what I’ve been lead to believe.”

  “I don’t know,” said Elena. “I bet she’s the evilest witch in all the land.”

  Oliver frowned. “Reports of her evilness have been greatly exaggerated.”

  She squeezed as hard as she could through their mittens. “Well, I know you have a date and everything, but maybe save me a dance.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see. No promises.”

  She touched his calf with her foot. “All I have to do right now is sweep your leg and you’ll be stuck here on this ice until spring.”

  “What I said about my date not being an evil witch? I take that back.”

  She tugged on his hands, dragging herself in close to his chest. They were cheek-to-cheek now, his hot breath tickling her ear. She let her lips graze his lobe ever so slightly as she reached into his coat pocket and pulled out Harper’s phone. She held it up, backing away. “I’ll return this for you. I want to make sure Harper’s okay.”

  After they said an awkward good-bye on the shore—Elena told Oliver to make sure to stretch his calves when he got home—she ran to her house, got her parents’ car, and drove to Harper’s.

  She found her friend on the sectional couch in her family room, surrounded by various snack foods, right leg propped up on the ottoman, watching Can’t Buy Me Love. A pile of DVDs sat next to the TV. “Courtesy of Sam,” said Harper. “I reminded him that we have Netflix and Amazon and On Demand and a million other ways to watch things. He went off on a tirade about how those services always try to direct you to their own product. That’s when I kicked him out.” She nodded toward the movie, where Patrick Dempsey was mowing the lawn. “This movie is great, though. Don’t tell Sam that.”

  Elena lowered herself gingerly to the couch, making sure not to disrupt Harper’s leg. “How’s your ankle?”

  “Broken,” said Harper. “Looks okay, though. I probably won’t need surgery or anything.”

  “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

  “Not anymore.” Harper shook the bottle of painkillers on the end table next to her.

  “And can I get you anything?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Sam has been an amazing nurse.” Harper nodded toward the TV. “You can watch with me, though. Cheesy rom-coms are no fun to sit through alone.”

  “True story.” Elena tried to focus on the screen. It wasn’t working. Young Patrick Dempsey wasn’t a good enough distraction. His floppy hair couldn’t hold a candle to Oliver’s.

  “How was your night?” asked Harper, watching Patrick Dempsey scoot around on a riding mower.

  Elena chuckled. “Interesting. Much better than yours, I’m fairly certain.”

  Harper shook her head. “My night has been pretty good, actually. The doctor gave me the strong stuff. But I can tell even through my narcotics haze that something’s bothering you.”

  “Not bothering me,” said Elena. “But I do have something on my mind.” She exhaled. “After you left, I spent all evening hanging out with Oliver. And I liked it. A lot.”

  Harper flicked off the TV completely. Good-bye, Patrick Dempsey. She pivoted her torso as much as she physically could without moving her leg to face Elena. “What?” When Elena didn’t respond right away, Harper repeated, “What?”

  “We hung out…catching Stashes and stuff.” Elena shrugged. “It was a lot of fun. We had sort of a moment, and…I should probably start at the beginning.”

  “Please do,” Harper said.

  “You know how I’ve been playing Stash Grab?”

  “Like everyone.”

  “Well, I started chatting with some guy right in the beginning. We really hit it off, like to the point where we made plans to meet up at the Valentine’s dance—I’d wear a yellow dress and he’d bring me a yellow rose.”

  “You’re living in a rom-com.”

  “It gets more rom-commy.” Elena grinned in spite of herself. “I figured out at my Stash Grab Dash event that the guy I’d been chatting with the whole time was Oliver Prince.”

  Harper spilled half her popcorn. “Uh, go on,” she said, attempting to wrangle the loose kernels.

  “And tonight I realized that Oliver, somewhere along the line, had figured out he’d been chatting with me. And yet…he was still there hanging out with me for hours.”

  “And you with him.”

  “Yeah.” Elena sighed.

  “You said you two had a ‘moment.’ What kind of moment?”

  Elena closed her eyes, picturing the scene. “We were goofing around on the ice in the park, and we fell next to each other, like nose-to-nose—”

  Harper clapped her hands in excitement. “My stomach is literally full of butterflies right now. You and Oliver, oh my God. You guys kissed.”

  “Who kissed?” shouted Sam from the basement.

  “Mind your own business, loser!” yelled Harper. She turned to Elena again. “How was it?” she asked in a softer voice.

  “We didn’t kiss,” said Elena. “And we never came right out and said we knew the other was the person we’d been chatting with, but it was definitely implied, and I think we were on the same page—tomorrow night, the Valentine’s dance. I’m wearing a yellow dress, and he’s bringing me a yellow rose.”

  “A yellow dress! Just like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days!”

  “That’s why I bought it, obviously,” Elena said. “Anyway, tomorrow night, all will be revealed.”

  “With sexy results!” Harper screeched.

  Elena tossed a pillow at her.


  “I have a broken ankle. You have to be nice to me.” Harper’s face got serious. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “And happy. You never go after what you want.” She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

  “Yes, I do,” Elena said.

  “I mean it,” Harper said, her mouth full. “You usually don’t fight for yourself, but here you are, going after Oliver Prince.”

  “I fight for what I want.” She was a strong, independent woman who always stuck up for herself. Of course she was.

  Harper took a moment to swallow. “Elena, no, you don’t. Your parents want you to quit the track team to work at the store more, you do it. No question. They want you to give up the school trip. Done. They tell you you’re going to have to move before your senior year. No problem. I like that for once you’ve found something—someone—you want, and you’re going after him. You’re going to wear that yellow dress and kiss Oliver Prince’s face, and it’s going to be amazing.”

  “You make me sound like a doormat.”

  “You’re not a doormat, and I know the stuff with your parents is complicated, but you always let life happen to you. It’s like the whole Kevin Snow thing last year; you let him hold the reins the entire time. ‘Sure, Kevin, you want to make out tonight? Let’s do that. Oh, you’re done with me? Fine. No big deal. We can still be friends.’”

  “I did want to make out with him.” She blushed, remembering their few nights of passion, or whatever that was—in the back of the video store and at one of Harper’s parties. He was a tool, but he was a hot tool.

  “I don’t doubt that, but you did it on his terms. You live your entire life on everybody else’s terms.”

  Elena glowered. “You do think I’m a pushover.”

  “I think you’re very concerned about not making waves.” Harper grabbed another handful of popcorn. “But I like that you’re going after Oliver. That relationship won’t make anybody’s life easy. It’s messy—your parents won’t like it, neither will his parents. You’re both leaving the state soon. You’re not going after him because it’s rational and right. You’re going after him because you want to.”