I pulled a sweater on over my PJs and slid my feet into my furry boots, then I went to the front door. I peered out the little window on the door to make sure I knew who was throwing pebbles at the window.

Yup. I knew him, all right.

“Hey,” I said, opening the door.

“We just got back!” Sean wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me a big hug.

“It’s nice to see you,” I said.

“You, too. I really missed you,” he said, giving my waist an extra squeeze. And then a little pinch, as he came into the house.

“Mmm,” I said. Had I missed him? I hadn’t really thought about him much. That wasn’t a good sign, was it? He was acting like he was really excited to see me. Coming over in the middle of the night?

“Love those PJs,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Here, I got you a little gift.” He handed me a small white box, which I was almost afraid to open. Not that I don’t like presents, but it seemed like an odd time to be giving me one. Maybe that was why he’d come over in the middle of the night?

I opened the box. Inside was a strange-looking food product. “What is…” I picked up a little slip of paper from the candy company that explained things. “Chocolate-covered potato chips. Huh.”

“Yeah, aren’t they cool?” Sean asked.

I put one in my mouth and crunched it. “Surprisingly yummy,” I said.

I held the open box out to him, but he shook his head. “No thanks, I ate a box on the bus ride home.”

I laughed. “Well, thanks for these. That’s so sweet of you. How was Fargo?”

“We had a great time. Played like two games a day, plus we met with coaching scouts from different colleges. I think I really impressed them.”

“That’s cool.”

“What have you been up to?” Sean asked.

Spending time with your brother. And completely alienating him, I thought.

“Not much,” I said. “The time went by kind of quickly, actually.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good.”

And then we awkwardly looked at each other for a few seconds. Sometimes I wondered what he was doing with me, when we had these lulls in conversation and not that much to talk about. Then again, what was I doing with him? Half the reason I was dating him was to win some stupid challenge with my friends, and myself, to not go the entire senior year without a date. To have a romantic weekend just because.

“So do you want to hang out by the fire for a while? Maybe have some hot chocolate?” Sean asked.

“With our chocolate chips?” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know. I don’t actually want any hot chocolate. I don’t think.”

“No?” He seemed disappointed.

I shook my head. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked.

“I…I don’t know. Just sleepy, I guess.” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned, for effect.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone.” He smiled and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. “Snow Ball in two days, are you ready?”

“Not yet.” I pictured the latte Conor had made, with the special foamed milk snowball on top. “But I will be,” I said with a faint smile. “Now would you let me go back to sleep?”

“Okay, okay. See you later!” Sean leaned down to kiss me goodnight, but I turned at the last second so that he kissed my cheek instead.

Chapter 17

“You what?”

“I asked Conor to deliver Brett’s birthday cake today. I figured we’d be too busy blowing up balloons and so forth.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Gretchen said.

“You asked Conor to deliver it here?” I nearly shrieked. “Gretchen! I could kill you right now.”

“Why?” she asked.

That’s when I remembered that she didn’t know about the whole Conor situation. All she knew was that I was going to the Snow Ball with Sean, and she was beside herself with excitement about that.

Wait until I told her we were going away for the weekend together. I hadn’t told her yet, because I was dreading her reaction. She knew I had plans to go on a trip with my friends that weekend, because I’d arranged that as soon as I got to her house.

“Why are you going to kill me?” she asked. “I was trying to do you a favor by not asking you to go pick up the cake. I figured you’d be busy enough getting ready for tomorrow night.”

“Well!” I cleared my throat. “That’s just it. I mean, first of all, you’re taking over this whole thing and acting like it’s your party, not mine.”

Gretchen had been jumping for joy—almost literally, almost bouncing off her crutches—ever since I told her that Sean had invited me to the Snow Ball. She’d read about the party in the newspaper’s society sightings page and had been curious about it ever since.

“I knew he’d ask you. This is so perfect! This is great!” she kept crying when I finally told her about it.

I had to tell her to back off. “Gretchen! I’m not like your protégé. You’re living through me or something weird like that.”

“Can’t I be excited for my little sister?” She looked very hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I’m a little stressed out about all this.”

So today, we’d spent the morning at a few malls, searching for the perfect dress for me. Finally we’d found something we both liked: it was strapless, a cool gold color, very classic and wintry looking. And according to Gretchen and the saleswoman (basically clones of each other), it looked great with my hair and slightly golden skin.

Whatever.

Gretchen had sprung for the gown, to thank me for everything I’d done to help her out over the past few weeks. But of course she’d also sprung for new shoes to match it, and a wispy scarf to wear over my shoulders, and some new gold nail polish that would match it.

And of course, a gown for herself. She’d lost ten pounds and was pretty excited about it, not to mention the fact she couldn’t go shopping without buying something for herself.

“Come on, forget about Brett’s silly birthday cake. Let’s talk about the party some more. Right now I’m going to teach you how to waltz,” she announced.

“What?” I cried. “I’m not going to have to waltz!”

“Yes, you are,” she said.

“How would you know, you’ve never gone to this thing,” I snapped. “Sorry. I’m just feeling a little, um, stressed. I won’t know anyone else there, you know?”

“Don’t worry about it. But that’s why you should learn to dance, because it never hurts to be ready for any situation. Emily Post, page 341.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Well, it’s in there somewhere.” Gretchen put on a CD of classical music. Then she hopped over to me, swinging on one crutch. “Come on, take my hands,” she said.

“Gretchen, they’re going to have a band. Like, a band that we’d all actually want to dance to,” I told her. “Music from the twenty-first century. I’m not waltzing with my sister, on crutches no less.”

“Do you want to look silly, or don’t you?” she asked.

“Hello? Look at us right now,” I said, laughing.

“Come on. Follow my lead,” she urged. “One-two-three, one-two-three…”

Suddenly Gretchen’s eyes widened.

“What? Did I step on your toe?” I said. “Did I hurt your broken leg? Oh no.”

She shook her head, still staring over my shoulder.

I turned around and saw Conor standing in the doorway, large white bakery box in hand. “Sorry. I knocked. But no one answered, so…”