What if they’re not okay?
Well, that proves that I was right about their relationship. They’re in no place to be considering marriage. At least, that’s what I tell myself as minutes pass and Clover doesn’t respond.
Heavy, wet snow continues to stream past the window as the sun sets, piling up higher and higher against the house. Darcy and Fitz talk about their parents and Jane, guessing which people in town would offer up their homes.
“Are you okay?” I whisper to Molly, who hasn’t said a word since the power went out.
“I’m fine,” she replies, in one of those voices that so clearly screams I AM NOT FINE.
“We’ll be okay. I’m sure the power will be on again by morning,” I lie.
She pulls the blanket tighter around her legs. “The problem is Fitz …” She trails off in that way that invites questions.
“What happened? Didn’t you get back together?”
“Not yet. I can’t tell what he wants.”
That’s shocking. Fitz, the boy with his heart on his sleeve, didn’t make his feelings obvious?
Maybe I have a chance, the traitorous part of my brain whispers. And then I feel guilty for conspiring against her, so I say this: “I’m sure he wants to. Just give him some time.”
“I need to do something big to win him back.”
“Like what?”
“I thought driving up here would be enough, but I should have known better. When we were dating, he was always giving me stuff and writing me love letters and planning surprises and—”
“I get it. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s why I need your help. You know him better than anyone. If you were in love with him, how would you tell him?”
A sharp pounding on the door interrupts us. I jump up, desperate to get away from this conversation. Wind pushes the door open, bringing in heavy swirls of snow and two figures buried deep under layers of coats and scarves. The layers peel off, and it’s the girl from the train station and a boy with blond hair and wiry glasses.
“Your parents are at Beatrice’s house. They helped her get home, and then decided to stay to make sure she’ll be okay through the night,” Bernie explains as she stomps snow off her boots.
“Who’s Beatrice?” I ask.
“Mrs. Claus,” Fitz says.
Bernie surveys the room, eyes landing on Molly. “I’m Bernadette. This is my brother, Sebastian. Bernie and Bash, much to my mother’s dismay. We’re in the next cabin over.” Bernie collapses onto the couch next to Fitz. Her brother stands back, his nose wrinkled in displeasure. “So, what’s the plan? We’re obviously staying the night. No way are we going back out in that.”
“Oh. Uh—” Fitz hesitates.
“It’ll be fun. Who wants to play a game of Never Have I Ever?” Bernie slips her hand into her cardigan and retrieves a bottle of peppermint schnapps.
“As the adult in the room, I’m going to have to take that,” Darcy says. “Cold weather plus alcohol is the worst of all the bad ideas.”
“I thought you were Fitz’s cool sister,” Bernie mutters as she hands over the bottle.
“That would be Meg,” Darcy says. “But there’s sparkling cider in the fridge if you still want to play.” She gives us two big thumbs-up before retreating downstairs.
Bernie rolls her eyes at the suggestion. “What else do you have?” she asks Fitz.
He shrugs, and she takes that as an invitation to comb through the kitchen. She comes back a minute later with an armful of supplies. She dumps them on the floor, and we all circle around. She found half a dozen jalapeño peppers, a bottle of vinegar, a jar of cinnamon, and a box of soda crackers.
“Well! This has been fun but I’d prefer the blizzard,” Bash deadpans.
“Sit down!” Bernie orders him, and surprisingly, he does. “It’ll be a mashup of Never Have I Ever and all those viral internet challenges,” Bernie says as she fills plastic cups with vinegar. She hands them out and then divvies up the peppers and the saltines. “When it’s your turn, you say something you’ve never done. And if other people have done that thing, they have to eat something here. But if no one’s done it, then you have to eat it. Got it?”
Nods all around. “What’s wrong with saltines?” Molly asks.
“You won’t be asking that question once you’ve tried to eat six of them in under a minute,” Bernie explains.
I sniff the cup of vinegar in front of me. My eyes water. Fitz’s eyes find mine across the circle. He’s sitting between Bernie and Molly. “You don’t have to play.”
“I know.” And it’s true. I know I don’t have to play. But I’m not sure if I should play. I eye the assembled ingredients and have to admit, it all seems pretty harmless. I’ll steer clear of the cinnamon, though.
“Of course she does! We’re all playing!” Bernie says.
“I think I’m gonna—” I point to my phone by way of explanation. My fingers fumble over the screen but I manage to ask the question.
Should I play Never Have I Ever?
“What are you doing?” Bash asks.
“None of your business.”
He reaches out and snatches the phone from my hand. “Should I play Never Have I …” His eyes widen as he reads my question. “This is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Bernie smacks his shoulder. “Rude.” She turns to me. “Ignore him. What’s it going to be?”
“It told me to play.”
“The Magic 8 Ball has more positive answers than negative. If you don’t want to do something, you should rephrase the question,” Bash says.
“I never said I didn’t want to play.”
“Well, do you?”
“What does that matter?”
“That’s how most people make decisions. You do what you want, you skip everything else. Right?” He looks around the circle for confirmation.
“This is boring. Let’s play already,” Bernie says loudly. “Never have I ever gotten a speeding ticket.”
Fitz and Molly both swallow a shot of vinegar. When they’re done coughing and wincing, Fitz tells us about the time he got busted for going eighty-five on the freeway in an attempt to meet curfew after dropping Ruby off at her farm on the far end of town. His turn is next. “Never have I ever flirted my way out of a speeding ticket.”
Bernie’s laugh is loud and abrupt. “Well played.” She raises her cups to her lips and drinks. “Whew! That’s worse than I thought!” She seems delighted by this fact.
Molly says she’s never stayed up all night.
“This is so immature,” Bash grumbles, but he takes a giant bite of jalapeño pepper anyway. Fitz and Bernie do the same, and soon they’re all breathing heavily and wiping tears from their eyes.
I’m up next, and I realize with a start that I’m the only one who hasn’t had to eat or drink anything. Hopelessly Boring, party of one! “Never have I ever skipped school.” I stare at the cup in my hands, avoiding Fitz’s gaze. He showed up at my house last year on senior ditch day, arguing that if the seniors didn’t have to be in class, we shouldn’t either. He wanted to rent tubes, float down the Salt River, and laugh at all the drunk seniors. I didn’t go, because—shockingly—I couldn’t decide what to do. I was too nervous to skip, but I hated the idea of Fitz going without me. Eventually, he did, though. He came home from that trip with a sunburned nose and a date with Molly.