in my mind.
No matter how my past had failed me.
And no matter who had failed me.
I may have lacked firsthand experience in the magic of Christmas, but my ambition to rise above my shortcomings proved stronger. Like it always had.
Nan was right: can’t was simply not an option.
I locked the theater door with the sacred key and turned to face the dark, empty parking lot.
Shoot! I forgot I walked here.
I was so not in LA anymore. There wasn’t a single light anywhere on the street. And it was only nine.
I started walking, cursing the wind gusts that seemed to blow directly from the Arctic, and calculated how quickly a girl without gloves and a hat could last in thirty-degree weather. My hands were turning a strange shade of red, and my face had gone completely numb— again .
I heard a loud rumble behind me. “Hey, is your name Candy? As in Candy Cane? Want a ride?”
Despite my near hypothermia, I ignored the obnoxious but familiar voice shouting through the open window of the truck rolling up beside me.
Though I could imagine the feel of the heater vent blowing across my frostbitten skin, my willpower held out.
“Come on, stop being so stubborn. I got halfway home and realized I didn’t see your car in the parking lot. You must be freezing. Get in, Georgia.”
“N-n-no. I’m f-f-fine.”
He laughed but continued to match my pace. “Get in, Georgia.”
“W-w-e aren’t-t f-friend-ds, West-ton-n.”
“Fine. Whatever you say. Now, get in this truck before I throw you over my shoulder.”
He stopped the truck the very millisecond I stopped walking. When I tried to grip the door handle, it snapped away from my hand, twice . My fingers were now beet purple, and my hands were frozen into arthritic claws. As I climbed into the seat, he turned all the heater vents toward me. I wasn’t about to complain. If blood could freeze inside a living body, I was almost positive it was happening inside mine right now.
“You should remember how cold the winter nights get. You did grow up here, you know.”
I didn’t respond, but only because my jaw needed to defrost before I could open my mouth.
“And where are your gloves?”
I balled my hands in front of the vent and shrugged.
After a few moments, he sighed. “You’ll get it, you know. Those kids on stage—you can make them great. You just need to show them you believe in them. Learn who they are. If you do that, they will give you what you want. I promise.”
I shivered involuntarily. “You know all of them?”
“Yep. I’ve had every single one of them in my class at some point.”
It was still so strange for me to think of Weston as a shop teacher. Weston, who had dreamed of designing buildings and skyscrapers since second grade.
He pulled into Nan’s driveway and then hopped out, opening my door before I could protest.
“All you have to do is say the word, Georgia. I could help you pull this off. But I won’t be ignored.”
I stared at him dead-on, my earlier resolve coming back full force. “I appreciate the ride tonight and the set construction, but I’ll be fine on my own.”
When I started to walk toward the front door, he caught up to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “When you change your mind, and you will change your mind, Nan has my number.”
“Your cockiness is out of control.”
His eyes roamed my face before fixing on my lips. “You don’t really think that. You know me, Georgia.”
I swallowed as he leaned in so close I could smell the peppermint on his breath.
His right dimple came to life as his mouth ticked up on one side. “Good night, Frost Princess. I’ll see you around.”
As I watched him pull away, I was no longer concerned about the chill of the air, but about the protective frozen wall around my hear t . . . that was slowly beginning to melt.
C HAPTER S EVEN
T he next two days and nights were Weston-free, but they were far from drama-free.
The Clash of the Cheerleaders had given me a
No matter how my past had failed me.
And no matter who had failed me.
I may have lacked firsthand experience in the magic of Christmas, but my ambition to rise above my shortcomings proved stronger. Like it always had.
Nan was right: can’t was simply not an option.
I locked the theater door with the sacred key and turned to face the dark, empty parking lot.
Shoot! I forgot I walked here.
I was so not in LA anymore. There wasn’t a single light anywhere on the street. And it was only nine.
I started walking, cursing the wind gusts that seemed to blow directly from the Arctic, and calculated how quickly a girl without gloves and a hat could last in thirty-degree weather. My hands were turning a strange shade of red, and my face had gone completely numb— again .
I heard a loud rumble behind me. “Hey, is your name Candy? As in Candy Cane? Want a ride?”
Despite my near hypothermia, I ignored the obnoxious but familiar voice shouting through the open window of the truck rolling up beside me.
Though I could imagine the feel of the heater vent blowing across my frostbitten skin, my willpower held out.
“Come on, stop being so stubborn. I got halfway home and realized I didn’t see your car in the parking lot. You must be freezing. Get in, Georgia.”
“N-n-no. I’m f-f-fine.”
He laughed but continued to match my pace. “Get in, Georgia.”
“W-w-e aren’t-t f-friend-ds, West-ton-n.”
“Fine. Whatever you say. Now, get in this truck before I throw you over my shoulder.”
He stopped the truck the very millisecond I stopped walking. When I tried to grip the door handle, it snapped away from my hand, twice . My fingers were now beet purple, and my hands were frozen into arthritic claws. As I climbed into the seat, he turned all the heater vents toward me. I wasn’t about to complain. If blood could freeze inside a living body, I was almost positive it was happening inside mine right now.
“You should remember how cold the winter nights get. You did grow up here, you know.”
I didn’t respond, but only because my jaw needed to defrost before I could open my mouth.
“And where are your gloves?”
I balled my hands in front of the vent and shrugged.
After a few moments, he sighed. “You’ll get it, you know. Those kids on stage—you can make them great. You just need to show them you believe in them. Learn who they are. If you do that, they will give you what you want. I promise.”
I shivered involuntarily. “You know all of them?”
“Yep. I’ve had every single one of them in my class at some point.”
It was still so strange for me to think of Weston as a shop teacher. Weston, who had dreamed of designing buildings and skyscrapers since second grade.
He pulled into Nan’s driveway and then hopped out, opening my door before I could protest.
“All you have to do is say the word, Georgia. I could help you pull this off. But I won’t be ignored.”
I stared at him dead-on, my earlier resolve coming back full force. “I appreciate the ride tonight and the set construction, but I’ll be fine on my own.”
When I started to walk toward the front door, he caught up to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “When you change your mind, and you will change your mind, Nan has my number.”
“Your cockiness is out of control.”
His eyes roamed my face before fixing on my lips. “You don’t really think that. You know me, Georgia.”
I swallowed as he leaned in so close I could smell the peppermint on his breath.
His right dimple came to life as his mouth ticked up on one side. “Good night, Frost Princess. I’ll see you around.”
As I watched him pull away, I was no longer concerned about the chill of the air, but about the protective frozen wall around my hear t . . . that was slowly beginning to melt.
C HAPTER S EVEN
T he next two days and nights were Weston-free, but they were far from drama-free.
The Clash of the Cheerleaders had given me a
Similar Books
