The Holiday Switch(70)

The drive here, as short as it was, felt like it took longer than 364 days to next Christmas. I should have been in this gym already. I should already be in the first row. I should have taken his call two days ago and found a way to have our hard conversation before this competition, so he would know that—

“Lila?”

My gaze slides to the direction of the voice in front of me.

Teddy emerges from the crowd, wearing a tank and shorts. His hair is slicked back, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face.

    “Teddy.” My body moves toward him; my first instinct is to throw my arms around him, but I stop short. “I…Good luck today.”

“I’m glad you came.” Finally, thankfully, he smiles.

It’s all the permission I need, and I wrap my arms around his torso. “Teddy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told your aunt. I was mad, and shocked—”

“No, it’s me who needs to say sorry. I should have never told Tita Lou about your blog. I was trying to cover up my own secrets, and I rambled on and accidentally let your secret slip instead. But I’m done with secrets. Not between us, not with my aunt or with my parents.”

“Same. Same times a million.” My face aches from smiling so hard.

His hands rest against the nape of my neck, and his expression changes to one of relief. “You’re really here.”

“I promised I would be.”

His voice lowers. “I read your blog post this morning. It was so…great. I really like you, Lila. I’m in awe of you. I know we have a lot to talk about. I finished Holiday by the Lake, and what you said about friendship and apologies and forgiveness, it was all so honest. Can we try this again?”

“Do we have to go through the whole train Teddy phase?”

“No, though I wouldn’t mind reliving the first thing on the Mission: Holly list.”

I soak him and this whole moment in. “Who needs a pier anyway?”

“I don’t.” Teddy lifts my chin with a finger and presses a kiss to my lips. Irene clucks and my brothers croon. But I don’t have time to be embarrassed, because I’m too wrapped up in him.

    An announcement filters through the speakers, and it catches Teddy’s attention. “I have to head up.”

“Okay, but one more thing. I made it to the second round for the internship selection.”

His face brightens, like the clear blue sky after a snowstorm. “No way.”

“Way!”

He hugs and twirls me, until his friends pull him away. It’s chaos, but he yells back, “There might be some seats up front. Call for me, so I know where you are.”

“You’ve got it. Good luck!”

A beat later, he’s off toward the mat, where he disappears into the crowd.



* * *





It takes cajoling and pleading to squeeze myself and my family through the crowd, but we finally find seats close enough to Teddy. He’s dusting his hands with chalk as he waits his turn.

At the moment, there’s someone else on the boulder, a guy in a red tank. He crawls up the yellow footholds. He extends arms and legs and grips and grunts. Then he pauses with his left hand and left foot in holds. He reaches toward a seemingly out-of-reach hold above him.

His fans cheer and encourage him as he attempts the move. But Red Tank falls short, landing on his feet, and the crowd groans in disappointment.

On the sidelines, Teddy is shaking out his ankle. His expression is serious. I push down all my worry, and instead find my voice.

“Teddy!” I yell.

    He doesn’t turn. He’s looking in the other direction, toward someone else calling his name. When I scan the crowd, I find Ms. Velasco waving, and next to her is a man and a woman. I drag my gaze back to Teddy, who’s waving back.

Teddy’s parents. They have to be.

When he faces the boulder once more, I try his name again.

This time, he turns in my direction.

“Right here!” I yell.

He finds me in the crowd, expression grim. I know that he’s thinking about that reach, that switch in hold. I think of the moments when he’s encouraged me. And the one thing he said when I climbed up a wall the first time. I round my hand over my mouth and yell, “I’ve got you!”

Teddy grins. His smile is so big, it spans ear to ear.

Finally, he’s called to the boulder. A beep sounds, and a timer begins. I watch him as he maneuvers the climb with precision. His muscles contort with every move. Next to me, my siblings are screaming, directing, cheering. Dad’s clapping. Mom covers her eyes with a hand.

Teddy arrives at the final hold before he has to catch air. I keep my eyes on him. I can’t blink.

With my hands covering my mouth in a silent wish, I watch Teddy reach for that hold, and he makes it.





FRIDAY, JANUARY 7

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: tickets to Wonderhill!

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I grumble and creep to the edge of the snow hill. In full snow gear, I peer over. KC and Seb just made it to the bottom of their run—they’re cracking up trying to climb out of their snow tube. Carm is at the bottom of our run, standing next to Aiden. She’s waving, as if that’s going to encourage me to get on this thing faster.