1
December 23, fifteen years ago
Blue Moon Bend, NY
* * *
Sammy Ames surveyed the holiday festivities with no clue that the trajectory of her life was about to change. She would never look at hot chocolate, mistletoe, or sheep the same way.
It seemed as though the entire town had turned out for the traditional Winter Solstice and Multicultural Holiday Celebration. As usual. The same old food stands were clustered on either side of the winding path. The same neighbors manning them. The same wild collection of crafts and homemade goods. The same greetings delivered with puffs of breath.
December in upstate New York was cold. Really freaking cold.
But it had never occurred to the residents that perhaps the festivities should be held in warmer weather or—what normal towns did—move them into the homes of residents where each family could choose to mark Christmas, or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Solstice, or secular family quality time, or nothing at all on their own.
This was Blue Moon. No one did anything on their own. Even if they wanted to.
Instead, they bundled up in parkas and mittens. And stood in line for latkes and lentils and lasagna. There were holidays to celebrate. Cultures to respect. Diversity to appreciate.
At fourteen, Sammy secretly appreciated the fuss. Secretly liked that her hometown’s mission was to include, not exclude.
She was, by her own account, an average-ish girl with average looks and an average personality. The people around her, both peers and family, always seemed more vibrant, more sure of the space they claimed.
But in this tiny corner of the world, even though she wasn’t sure where she fit, Blue Moon still made room for her.
“Ugh. Why do we have to do this every year?” her best friend, Eden Moody, asked, stamping her feet to stay warm. Her black tights—though a trendy, can’t-miss proclamation that the girl in them was a budding rebel—weren’t as warm as Sammy’s practical long underwear and jeans.
Sammy was debating whether to engage in a rebellion of her own. While dressed appropriately for the weather, of course. After all, rebelling against expectations didn’t mean she had to freeze to death.
Where Eden’s parents embraced their teen daughter’s desire to express herself and experience the consequences of those expressions, Sammy’s mother, Dr. Anastasia Ames, seemed determined to micromanage her down the path of acquiescence.
“I’m building this veterinary practice for us, Samantha.”
“I’m counting on you to carry on the legacy I started, Samantha.”
“No, you may not skip college to join the Peace Corps, Samantha.”
It would have been nice to be consulted before having her entire life decided for her. Just because Sammy loved animals didn’t mean she wanted to join her mother’s livestock veterinary practice. Maybe she wanted to work for a horse breeding program or study turtles in the Galapagos.
But her mother seemed more interested in her reputation and what it would mean to that reputation if her daughter joined the roster at her practice.
“You don’t like this at all?” Sammy asked her frozen friend.
Eden’s eyes followed Beckett Pierce’s butt as it—and he—wandered by with his equally cute younger brother Jax. Moon Beam Parker, Eden’s cousin, walked in step with Beckett, making puppy dog eyes at him.
Eden was on an accelerated path toward adulthood. She’d had her first kiss at twelve, Amir Lubarnas at the roller rink during Nancy Finkelstein’s birthday party. The still-first-kissless Sammy sometimes wished she’d had a Moon Beam in her life to influence her out of her comfort zone.
“I’m almost fifteen,” Eden said airily. “I’m exploring my hormonal-induced disdain for life.”
The Blue Moon School District’s health and sex education curricula were embarrassingly comprehensive.
“Textbook puberty,” Layla quipped. Despite being the long-legged, blonde bombshell of the group, Layla was less interested in boys and more interested in protecting her friends from them… and from themselves. Responsible to a fault, she seemed to have skipped the teenage years entirely and jumped straight into adulthood.
Sammy landed squarely between the two. Not too much of a rebel or too much of a Goody Two-shoes. Just a girl waiting to find herself. Waiting for the universe to tell her who she was destined to be. A girl who was getting a little tired of waiting.
“Don’t look now, but there’s a Ryan Phillippe look-alike behind us,” Eden whispered.
This was news. No one in Blue Moon looked like the bored, wealthy boy from Cruel Intentions, which meant fresh meat. Layla peeked first. When she turned back to them, the height of her eyebrows concurred with Eden’s assessment.
Sammy casually peered over her shoulder and found herself being grinned at by a tall, lanky boy in a yellow parka straight out of the L.L.Bean catalog. His blond hair flopped artfully over his forehead. Long lashes edged amused brown eyes. He had braces, and a soft, mossy green scarf tied jauntily around his neck. Definitely a Ryan Phillippe type.
Realizing she’d been staring at him for much longer than acceptable, Sammy flashed him a weak smile and whipped around to face forward.
“Smooth, Sammy,” Layla teased.
Eden let out the barely audible, high-pitched squeal of a teenaged girl delighted for her friend. “He’s totally into you,” she whispered knowledgeably.
“Yeah. I don’t think so,” Sammy hedged. She was used to being the least interesting out of their little group. Layla was the boobed goddess next door who didn’t try too hard. Eden was the spunky rebel too busy dancing to the beat of her own drum to care if anyone thought she was cute.
“Hey,” a voice said behind them. A cute, teenaged, boy voice.
They whirled around as one.
“Hey,” Eden said with enviable chill.
“Hey,” Layla said with distinct distrust.
“Hi,” Sammy squeaked.
The boy grinned again and looked directly at her. “So, how’s the food here?” he asked, gesturing at the fried tofu stand in front of them.
“Great,” Eden said. “Layla and I have to go. We’ll catch up with you later, Sammy.” She hooked her arm through Layla’s even as Sammy started to shake her head. She wasn’t prepared to be abandoned.
“Are you new here?” Layla asked the boy, digging the heels of her sneakers into the ground. It wasn’t personal interest. She was making sure a stranger interested in her friend wasn’t a future criminal in the making.
“Yeah,” the boy said. “I’m in town visiting my great-uncle. Kinda lame,” he said with that flirty smile. This time, he gave a little head toss, dislodging the hair that had fallen over his eye.
Sammy wondered why he didn’t just cut it shorter. His neck probably got sore by the end of the day from all the hair tossing.
“Who’s your uncle?” Layla demanded while Eden tugged on her arm with more determination.
“It doesn’t matter who his uncle is,” Eden hissed.
Sammy pitied Layla’s future children—if she decided to have any—when they tried to bring dates home to meet the parents.
“Uh, my uncle is Carson Shufflebottom,” he said, eyeing her friends as if they were a sideshow at a discount circus. “He lives on a farm outside of town.”