Джей Эшер - What Light

“Exactly!” I say. “Queen, not princess. You raised me better than that.”

Dad bows low, as he should in the presence of royalty. Then he walks toward the trailer and I return to the Bigtop. Inside, leaning against the counter, is Andrew.

I walk behind the counter and push Dad’s work gloves aside. “What were you and Caleb talking about out there?”

“I notice he’s been coming around a lot,” Andrew says.

I cross my arms. “So?”

Andrew shakes his head. “You think he’s a great guy because he buys people trees. But you don’t know him.”

I want to argue that he doesn’t know anything about Caleb, but the truth is, he probably knows more than me. Am I dumb for not confronting Caleb about the rumor yet?

“If your dad doesn’t want any of his workers asking you out,” Andrew says, “there is no way he’d approve of Caleb.”

“Stop!” I say. “This has nothing to do with you.”

He looks down. “Last year I was dumb. I left that stupid note on your window when I should have asked you to your face.”

“Andrew,” I say softly, “it’s not my dad or Caleb or anyone else. Let’s not make working together any more awkward, okay?”

He looks at me and his expression goes hard. “Don’t do this with Caleb. You’re ridiculous to even think you can be friends with him. He is not who you think he is. Don’t be—”

“Say it!” My eyes narrow. If he calls me stupid, Dad will fire him in a second.

Andrew cuts his words short and leaves abruptly.

The evening of the parade, I head downtown with Heather and Devon. Heather’s mom is on the parade committee and begged us to arrive early. The moment we show up at the blue canopy marked Registration , she hands each of us a bag of participant ribbons and a clipboard to check off entries. Most of the groups are already accounted for, but every year some new organizations line up and forget to check in. She tells us it’s our job to track them down.

Devon looks at Heather. “Seriously? We have to do this?”

“Yes, Devon. It’s one of the perks of being my boyfriend. If you don’t like it…” She motions toward the people walking by.

Undeterred by the challenge in her words, Devon drops a kiss on her cheek. “Totally worth it.” When he pulls away, he looks at me with a subtle smirk. Yes, he is aware that he infuriates her at times.

“Before we find anyone,” Heather says, “let’s grab some coffee. It’s getting cold out.”

We weave our way through a boisterous Boy Scout troop and then down a block and a half to a café off the parade route. Heather sends Devon in and waits outside with me.

“You need to tell him,” I say. “It’s not doing either of you any good to prolong this.”

She tilts her head back and sighs. “I know. But he needs better grades this semester. I don’t want to be the one to distract him from that.”

“Heather…”

“I’m the worst. I know! I know.” She looks me in the eyes but then sees something in the distance behind me. “Speaking of conversations that need to happen, I think that’s Caleb.”

I spin around. Across the street, Caleb sits on the back of a bus bench with two other guys. One of them looks like Luis. I decide to wait for Devon to come out with our coffees while I gather up the courage to walk over.

A bus rumbles up to the bench and I worry that I missed my chance. When the bus pulls away, Caleb and his friends remain sitting there, talking and laughing. Caleb rubs his hands briskly together and then shoves them in his coat pockets. Devon comes out and offers me one of the coffees, but I shake my head.

“I’m changing my order,” I tell them. “Will you two check people in without me? I can meet up with you later.”

“Of course,” Heather says. Devon sighs, obviously annoyed that I get to cut out of parade work while he has to stay. Before he can complain, though, Heather looks at him and says, “Because! That’s why.”

When I come out of the café, I carry a hot drink in each hand. I cross the street slowly so nothing sloshes out of the lids. Before I reach Caleb, several yards beyond them, I notice a tall guy in a white marching band uniform climb out of a car. Sliding out next is a slightly older girl in a cheer uniform with the Bulldogs mascot on the chest.

Another band member carrying a flute jogs up to them. “Jeremiah!”

Caleb shifts his attention from his friends on the bench to the band members. Jeremiah opens the trunk of the car and removes a snare drum with a long strap. He shuts the trunk, loops the strap over one arm, and shoves two drumsticks in his back pocket.

I slow down as I get close to the bench. Caleb hasn’t turned my way yet, still focused on the band members and the cheerleader. The car rolls forward and I see the woman driving the car lean over and look up at Caleb. He gives her a hesitant smile and then looks down.

The car drives away and I can hear the flutist talk about a girl he’s meeting after the parade. When they pass the bench, Jeremiah looks over at Caleb. It’s hard to tell for sure, but I see a hint of sadness in both of them.

The cheerleader walks up and grabs Jeremiah’s elbow, moving them on. When Caleb’s gaze follows them, he catches sight of me.

“You made it,” he says.

I offer one of the drinks. “You looked cold.”

He takes a sip and then covers his mouth as he almost laughs. After he swallows, he says, “Peppermint mocha. Of course it is.”

“And not the cheap kind, either,” I say.

Luis and the other guy lean forward to look at something down the street beyond me. At the intersection is a parked pink-and-white stretch convertible. The back door is being held open, and a high school girl in a blue shimmering gown and light blue sash is helped into the backseat.

“Is that Christy Wang?” I ask. Back when I went to elementary school here a few weeks each year, Christy was the one person who never let me feel welcome. I wasn’t a real Californian, she said. She must have turned her personality around enough to win Winter Queen. Or maybe it has more to do with how incredible she looks in that dress.

“It’s a beautiful day for a parade, folks,” Luis says in a weird announcer voice. “Just beautiful! And this year’s Winter Queen is certainly a hottie. I’m guessing Santa placed her at the tippy top of his very, very Nice List.”

The guy sitting next to Luis cracks up.

Caleb jokingly shoves them into each other. “Dude. Show some respect. She’s our Queen.”

“What in the world are you guys doing?” I ask.

The guy I don’t know says, “It’s parade commentary. Every year there’s a weird lack of TV coverage, so we’re doing this town a favor. I’m Brent, by the way.”

I hold out my free hand. “Sierra.”

Caleb looks at me, embarrassed. “It’s an annual tradition.”

Brent points a finger at me. “You’re the Christmas tree girl. I’ve definitely heard about you.”

Caleb takes a big swig and shrugs, feigning innocence.

“Nice to see you again, Luis,” I say.

“You too,” he says. His voice is soft, perhaps laced with self-consciousness. He perks up after a man with an untied shoe walks by. “Let’s hear it for the Trendsetters Club, everyone. Start by tying one shoelace tight and then let the other hang loose. If you’re cool, it’s bound to catch on. This one? It ain’t catching on.”

“Don’t trip, trendsetter!” Brent says. The man looks back, and Brent smiles and waves at him.

No one says anything for several seconds as they all sit and watch people pass by. Caleb takes another sip and I slowly step back.