Chapter Twenty-Five

Homecoming proposals have officially taken over the school. There is an excitement buzzing in the air and it seems like every time Sophie, Marisol, and I turn a corner, someone else is being asked to this year’s dance.

“Is it just me, or are a lot more people going all out this year?” I ask as the three of us walk away from a small crowd who just finished watching William Romano serenade Sydney Johnson with his guitar before asking her to be his date.

“Definitely,” Sophie says with a nod. “And I feel like it’s all your and Isaiah’s doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You guys have really been working hard to get people excited! I mean, the theme, the killer schedule. People are responding.” Sophie bumps her shoulder into mine. “Good work.”

I smile. “Wow. Thanks, Soph.”

“It really has been amazing,” Marisol adds. “Even though I have to watch all these other people get their proposals and mine is nowhere to be seen.” She heaves a sigh. “Tragic, really.”

I shake my head. “Oh my God, Sol. You know Ari has something big up her sleeve. Give the girl some time! We still have two weeks.”

She crosses her arms. “You mean we only have two weeks!”

Don’t remind me, Sol. I’m falling behind on my Fall Fest duties as it is.

“It’ll be worth the wait,” Sophie promises.

But Marisol just flips her hair over her shoulder. “You only say that because you’ve already been asked.”

As we turn the corner toward our shared English class, we spot a giant balloon archway at the end of the hall. In the center, in silver balloons, is the name HUDSON .

Marisol stomps her foot. “Oh, come on! Now the world is just being cruel.”

It may be frustrating for Sol to have to wait, but now that I’ve moved past the initial jealousy phase (and yes, I did go back and watch Sophie’s proposal in full and it was adorable), it’s pretty cool to see everyone get as excited as me for this year’s festival.

The buzz in the air permeates the afternoon, and at the Fall Fest committee meeting Ms. Bennett congratulates us on selling a record number of tickets to this year’s homecoming.

We spend the first part of the meeting talking about the bake sale, which is happening next week to coincide with the official start of Fall Fest. It’s all business— unt il Everly McDonnell asks Sophie to tell us all about the proposal from Noah. Our group loses focus and everyone starts to chatter excitedly instead of working. I get it.

Isaiah makes his way over to me. “You notice how happy everyone’s been lately?”

“I have,” I say.

“Is this part of that fall magic you’re always going on about?”

I give him a smile. “Must be, right? Finally everyone is realizing this season’s greatness. All thanks to us. We’ve made quite the tea m— and honestly, I just never ever expected we would.”

He hops up onto the desk next to me. “Why’s that?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy when you became senior officer, you know.”

Isaiah quirks an eyebrow at me. “Because you hate me? Or because you’re a control freak?”

This makes me laugh and I playfully swat at his knee. “I am not a control freak.”

Now he’s laughing. “You absolutely are! And you know it!”

I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m a control freak.”

“I kind of like that about you, though,” Isaiah admits, and I feel my cheeks go pink.

“And I don’t hate you,” I add. “Not even close.”

“Oh?” he asks. “But you did, though, didn’t you?”

“I mean . . . I won’t lie, you weren’t my favorite person. Not after—” I hesitate, gazing around the room. This is not the conversation I expected surrounded by all these people, but everyone else in the classroom is busy talking about who asked who to the dance, what they’re wearing, plans for the upcoming weekend. No one’s listening, so I go ahead. “Not after everything in middle school.”

“Everything as in how you ghosted me out of nowhere?” There’s a curve to his lip as if he’s smiling, but his eyes tell me he’s hoping for a real answer.

“What?! You ghosted me.” I lower my voice. “I was there at the movies!”

“No, I was there at the movies,” he says. “You were nowhere to be found. Which is why I ghosted you afterward!”

“Oh my God no, you weren’t,” I insist in a loud whisper. “I was waiting for you like a fool in the freezing cold.”

Isaiah blinks. “Oh, shit. You were waiting outside?”

“Of course I was! Our plan was to meet at the entrance to the movie theater . . . wasn’t it?”

“I meant the mall entrance,” Isaiah says. “So you wouldn’t have to wait outside!”

I meet his gaze. “Wait, so you were there.”

“And you were, too.” He runs a hand along the back of his neck. “Damn. So, all this time, you thought I stood you up?”

“Obviously! Yes, I did! But . . . I guess that means you thought

I stood you up?” We look at each other, not saying anything for a minute, and then start to laugh. “I can’t believe it!”

My giggle quiets, though, and I go still, imagining charming little Isaiah thinking I abandoned him for no reason. All these years. And even so, he was still so kind when he spilled coffee on my cardigan and has gone out of his way to help me ensure that Fall Fest succeeds. “God, that really sucks. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry,” Isaiah says. “I’m mortified that you think I wouldn’t show.”

“I was totally devastated,” I admit. “Especially when you completely ignored me afterward.”

Zay visibly cringes. “Yeah . . . my communication skills weren’t exactly peak yet.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “As opposed to now?”

“Well, of course. I’m excellent at communication now.” He grins. “But, yeah. I shouldn’t have ghosted. That was cold.”

“Pretty sure I got frostbite,” I retort.

“Okay, corny,” he teases, before his face goes soft. “I’m sorry for that. I know we were just kids, but I don’t know. I was pretty into you.” He glances down at his shoes as they dangle from the desk. “Who knows how things might’ve been different?”

“Yeah. Who knows?” I agree. My poor heart hurts for little Whitney and little Zay. “What movie were we supposed to see that day?”

Isaiah laughs. “Some scary movie called The Surrendering, I think.”

“We should see it together sometime,” I suggest. “Make up for lost time.”

He smiles at me, eyes twinkling. “That would be dope, actually.”

I glance around the classroom, and Isaiah’s eyes follow. I realize everyone has left, even Soph and Marisol, who must’ve slipped out while Isaiah and I were talking.

“Oh, damn. We cleared this place out,” he remarks.

“Looks like it. Guess we should get going.” I start to pack my backpack.

Isaiah slips off the desk. “Hey, so, how has your outreach to those businesses been going?”

“The meeting’s over,” I tease. “We don’t have to keep talking about the Fall Fest.”

“We barely talked about the Fall Fest at all, Whitney,” he teases back. “And you seemed off earlier this week, so I wanted to make sure you’re good.”

Gently, I place my notebook in my bag beside my Fall Fest binder, which, admittedly, I haven’t opened all week. “Well . . . it’s been a little slow, if I’m honest.”

Isaiah reaches for his messenger bag and slips it over his head. “You want some help?”

“Really?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’m already done.”

“You’re done with yours?! But we set a deadline for next Wednesday!”

“I can’t help if I’m that good,” he jokes. “But seriously. You free Sunday?”

I’m so behind I really could use the extra help.

“I think I can do Sunday,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “Could you pick me up?”

He starts to walk toward the classroom door, his skateboard tucked under his arm. “I can do that. I’ll text you?”

“Perfect.”

Isaiah uses two fingers to give me the tiniest of salutes before he’s on his board and skating away, leaving me smiling to myself without meaning to.

Because this is just Fall Fest business, I remind myself. Nothing more.