“Well, the button, yeah, I did buy that. But we earned the ribbon. Right, Brett?”

“We won, Aunt Kirsten!” Brett cried happily.

“Well, good for you. I’m very proud of you.” I pulled Brett’s hat down a little, because he was about to lose it. “Are you hungry? You want a snack?”

He nodded eagerly, so we headed over to a couple of ice blocks to sit down. While I was getting a handful of peanut butter crackers out of the “everything” bag, I noticed a bus pull up, and suddenly girl after girl after girl was stepping off the bus, each one wearing a little tiara—like my Snow White one!—and a sash bearing the name of a town or suburb. Miss Owatonna, Miss Robbinsdale, Miss Stillwater, Miss Congeniality….

Where had they come from? What were they doing here? I knew the Winter Carnival crowned King Boreas and a Snow Queen every year, but this wasn’t the same thing. They started checking out the giant star-shaped ice sculptures where Conor was standing.

“See this? I won this.” He held the ribbon and button up in front of Miss Eden Prairie.

She laughed at him. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Oh! Harsh.” He put his hand over his heart. “You guys want me to take your picture?” he asked as the mob of girls circulated around the giant stars.

I took out my camera phone and started taking Conor’s picture, as he posed with Miss Winona and the others.

“What can I say, I’ve always had a thing for princesses,” he said as he walked over to me. “Ah, royalty.”

I raised my eyebrow and glared at him.

“Kidding. Kidding!” he said. “I was doing my best imitation of Sean. He was junior prom king, you know.”

“Ew. My sister was prom queen. Me, on the other hand, I’ve never actually worn a sash.”

“I’ll go borrow one for you,” Conor offered.

“No! Don’t!” I called as he headed back to the group of girls.

He stopped and turned around. “Why not?”

“Because. I—I don’t know what size I take.”

“Um, I don’t think they come in sizes.” He started talking to different girls, and pointing over at me and Brett. Most of them looked at him as if he were insane, but a couple of them seemed to be considering it. Finally he came jogging over to me carrying a white sash with blue letters that said: Miss Midwest. I stood up and Conor draped the sash over my head.

“Wow, I get to be the whole Midwest? I must have some sort of hidden talent,” I said.

“Classical piano,” the girl said with a smile as she walked over to me. She held out her hand. “I’m Christie.”

“Kirsten,” I said, being careful to shake her hand gently, given that she was a piano-playing virtuoso. “You sure it’s okay if I wear this for a second?”

“You can take one picture,” she said. “Then I have to get back to the bus—we’re on a schedule. Also I think it’s against policy, so be quick about it.”

“Thanks!”

“And who are you?” Christie asked Brett, keeping him busy while Conor snapped a quick photo of me.

“You’ll always be Miss Midwest to me,” he said.

“Gee. Thanks,” I said.

We drove from downtown St. Paul over to Como Park, for the Frosty Fingers kite fly.

“Why are we doing this again?” Conor said as we trudged across the snow to Lake Como, where kites danced in the air. The wind had begun to howl a little, and some freezing rain was falling.

Brett was riding on Conor’s shoulders, and for that reason maybe the wind chill at that height was hitting him a little harder than usual. When I glanced up to check on him, I could have sworn his lips were turning blue.

Then I remembered the fruit-flavored snow-cone he’d insisted on having earlier. That was syrup stain on his mouth, not frostbite.

Still, I suggested we blow off the kite flying and head to the other side of Como Park, to visit the conservatory. We regrouped and headed indoors to look at plants and enjoy warm, humid air. Afterward, we took Brett over to the historic carousel, and I took pictures of him and Conor going around on a wooden horse, making faces at me each time the carousel circled past.

All in all, it was a totally fun, totally exhausting afternoon.

“What next?” I asked as we walked away from the carousel, after I’d somehow managed to convince Brett that the Como Zoo was closed because it was too cold for the animals. It wasn’t closed, but I was too cold, and technically I am an animal of some sort, so it wasn’t a total lie.

Fifteen minutes later, Brett was sound asleep. We gently put him into his car seat and started the engine so the minivan would warm up.

We stood outside the car for a minute, and I felt Conor looking at me, out of the corner of my eye.

“What?” I asked as I turned to him.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking. You must be freezing.” Conor moved closer to me, practically snuggling against my side.

All I could think was, He’s about to kiss me, this is a move, he’s totally about to kiss me.

Chapter 16

“So, let’s see how all those pictures we took turned out,” I said, backing away from Conor. “I can’t wait to see them!”

“Oh. Okay.” Conor shrugged.

I resisted the urge to ask him, What were you thinking?

Or maybe the better question was: What was I thinking? Because I’d had to drag myself away, because I was pretty sure that if he didn’t kiss me, I would kiss him.

Maybe the cold was getting to us and our survival instincts were kicking in, I thought. Not that kissing has ever saved anyone from frostbite, but you never knew.

We leaned against the minivan and let it shield us from the strong wind. I got out my camera phone and we started clicking through all the images we’d taken during the day, laughing at the goofy ones, deleting the embarrassingly bad ones. I decided to send one of me, Conor and Brett posing in front of the ice fishing palace to Jones.

A minute or two later, there was a little bell chime, and the icon for a text message popped up on my phone screen. Without thinking, I clicked on the button to open it.

You and Sean = cute! it said.

I smiled nervously at Conor. “Oops. Maybe I should use captions from now on.”

That’s not Sean, I typed back to her.

“She has a point, you know.” Conor adjusted his gloves, pulling them up higher on his wrists.

“What?”

“You and I do look good together. Not that I care about superficial things like that, but it’s true.” He pointed to another photo. “I mean, you have to admit we make a cool couple.”

A cool couple? What was he talking about? I flipped my phone closed. “Well, we should probably get going, don’t you think? Brett’s asleep, and it’s getting even colder—”

“Okay, but first, can I ask you something?” Conor turned sideways and leaned against the minivan.

“That depends.” I smiled at him. “What is it? Is it whether I’m going to use Jones’s line in my project?”

“No. It’s…” He peered into the minivan at Brett to check on him. “Why are you going out with Sean?”

I’m sorry, I thought. But isn’t that really, really personal? And also: I’m not really ready for this. “Um…what do you mean?” I asked.