Chapter 20
I had the best Halloween costume of my life when I was eight. My mom made our getups from scratch, always, to save money, which meant they were usually the most original in the neighborhood too. And that year, I made a special request: I wanted to be the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.
The costume was perfect—right down to the skeletal hands—but with the black cloak and hood and obscured visage, everyone assumed I was supposed to be the grim reaper.
It was also the first year Naomi had to work on Halloween—she was a newly single mother—and Michelle was twelve, so my mom trusted her to be in charge on our street.
But even then, I was a stickler for tradition, and everything was so different from other Halloweens.
I was struggling with the changes, and was teased at school.
Kids thought I was so weird since all the other girls were dressed up as fairy princesses and pop stars.
The whole thing made me scared and shy about trick-or-treating, which had once been so much fun.
I started crying before Michelle and I got to the first house that night. She held my hand and pulled me aside as other kids skipped past us—tiny Disney princesses and Iron Men carrying plastic pumpkins and giggling at me.
“How about this—why don’t you let me go first?” she said, and reached out to straighten my hood. “I’ll give you a signal that it’s safe. And make sure they’re giving the good stuff too. No raisins or anything like that.”
I smiled at her, my first smile all night, but I was still so queasy.
She walked up to the door, and I stayed a few paces behind her.
She rang the bell. An older woman answered and smiled, genuinely delighted by Michelle’s costume—which was Naomi’s high school cheerleading uniform.
(We made quite the pair.) Then they both beamed back in my direction, and Michelle tugged on her ear—the signal we’d agreed upon for me to approach.
“My goodness, what a delight !” the woman said, stuffing a fistful of Sour Patch Kids packets into my pumpkin (definitely good stuff). “The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come here on my doorstep. A literary legend!”
I was so happy this neighbor understood me. Only later did it occur to me that Michelle must’ve explained my costume to her. But the part of the memory that stuck is the feeling of safety. Even doing this thing that felt so scary to me, I was so… protected. So not alone.
I have tried so hard not to feel my feelings about Michelle, and especially to keep the happier memories out of my mind.
It’s too confusing to hold it all at once.
But right now, standing in this tree lot, I suddenly wish more than anything I could have my big sister here with me, so I could hide behind her, let her test the waters—give me a signal that it’s safe.
I can’t help wanting that. But I also can’t have it. So I have to face the line to the taco truck by myself. My only shield now is my anonymity, and that’s temporary.
“Come on up!” the guy on the truck says when it’s my turn to order. Fortunately, even though Eve is just a few feet away, she’s preoccupied with her work and doesn’t see me yet.
He’s got kind eyes and short black hair.
It’s mostly covered by his beanie, but a few free-flowing wisps float softly above his forehead.
He’s wearing a heavy gray-and-white flannel jacket with fingerless gloves.
A small birthmark sits on his right cheek just under his eye, and it climbs up a tick as he smiles to greet me.
This guy looks like he could be Eve’s brother, but I figure it must be her cousin, Carlos.
Eve mentioned him yesterday at the farm, but now he’s a real person, talking right to me. “What can we get you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I stumble, sounding like the out-of-towner I am and holding up the line. “Uh, what are my options again?”
I try to ask this with some authority, but Eve is so close, and I am so nervous. If I lean over, I could almost reach out and touch her hair, the way she touched mine yesterday. Has she thought about me at all since then?
“Well, for the tamales, we’re out of pork, but we’ve still got chicken, or vegetarian, which is squash and cheese.
And asada if you’re looking for tacos,” I-assume-Carlos says.
I’m painfully aware that all that information is on a sign to the left of his head, and I probably look like an idiot for asking, but I keep stalling, trying to figure out what I’m going to do once I make my way to her.
“Uh, and the hot chocolate? What’s in that?” This seems like a reasonable ask since it’s listed simply as Tía’s Famous Hot Chocolate , without additional information.
“That’s proprietary.” The woman I assume to be Eve’s tía Antonia (and, by extension, I’m guessing Carlos’s mother) seems to appear out of nowhere in the window beside him, as if she has a radar for exactly this outrageous question.
The resemblance to Eve and Carlos is clear, especially in the eyes, even though hers are behind glasses that sit on the tip of her nose.
I’m about to apologize, terrified she’ll turn me away for having the audacity to ask this question, when Eve jerks a head in my direction. Worse, she looks for the source of this obviously reckless question, and her eyes land on me.
“You,” Eve says in disbelief, stepping closer to where Carlos is leaning out.
“Uh, I’m sorry,” Carlos says to me, then glowers down at Eve. “That’s not how we usually greet our customers, is it, cuz?”
“Sorry, right,” she says to Carlos, but then she turns back to me, still with a look of shock in her eyes. Eve definitely has home field advantage here, but at least I have the element of surprise. It takes her a moment, but she finally asks, “Strudel, what are you doing here?”
Her eyebrows have crept up her forehead, but she is otherwise frozen to the spot, which officially makes two of us.
We’re like living ice sculptures in a pop-up Christmas tree parking lot.
My brain is too paralyzed to answer right away.
First, because she remembers me. Also, because of this nickname, which I almost forgot.
Eve must feel like she’s come off a little harsh, because her next question is a stammer.
“I mean, sorry. I just… What are you doing here?”
It’s a repeat of the question, but I guess she’s realized there’s actually no better way to ask it.
I’m scanning her face for clues as to how she feels.
Yesterday, there were moments when she seemed to soften, and even laugh, but it took time.
Now she’s caught off guard, and it’s tougher to get a clean read.
What finally snaps me out of my own stupor is the guy behind me grumbling about the long wait, because right now I am at the front of the line, the only thing between the hungry snow-ravaged revelers behind me and their hot tamales.
I can practically feel the pitchforks. I step aside and out of line so Carlos can keep the operation moving, and my heart skips when Eve steps aside with me.
I run through a few responses in my head, but instead of picking one, they sort of all come flying out of my mouth at once.
“I’m—wow, this… Is this…? Do you work here? What are the odds?”
“I mean, my family runs it,” Eve says, and makes a vague gesture toward Carlos and then Tía, who has come down off the truck to set some orders on the pickup table and take over the cash-out station, because Eve is now so focused on me. A thrill runs through me—I’m a worthy distraction.
“Ohhh, this is the one?” I ask, as if I have a huge mental catalog of Brooklyn Christmas tree vendors. “The place you were talking about yesterday? Rad. That’s so cool.”
I look around. I’m mentally face-palming, desperately aware of how uncool I sound. Eve is still staring at me, but the way the superfine snowflakes are settling into her eyelashes is making me weak.
God, I am in so much trouble with this girl.
“Thanks?”
She still seems stiff, but something has shifted. Her shoulders have dropped at least half an inch and there is a flicker of a smile. It seems my awkward rambling has been at least somewhat endearing.
“So, um, that’s why I’m here, but what are you doing here?” Eve asks a third time.
“Oh! Yeah. I’m here with friends,” I say. I turn in their direction and give a wave.
They all wave back in a big, weird harmonious way that makes my heart nearly explode. Their gallery of goofy smiles gives me enough of a boost that I can pull together a few complete and plausible sentences.
“My buddy Izaac—the one on the end there? We visited his sister today for Christmas, because she’s not coming home for the holiday.
” (True.) “And when I realized we were coming to the city, I told them about those cookies you gave me…” (True.) “And so I thought we could try to find your bakery…” (Also true.) “… because my mom would be super into those and I wanted to pick some up for her. Ya know, something special for Christmas morning.” (Could be true.) “But we didn’t make it in time. ”
“Whoa,” she says. “That’s kind of insane.”
Wait. Does she mean the plan or me? Either way, it sounds less judgmental and more… intrigued? She waves back at them now, and I can’t believe they’re interacting after everything today.
“Ha! Right?! Really wild we ran into you.” A nervous laugh escapes me and proooobably sounds unhinged. But what can I do?
Carlos steps off the truck as Tía steps on, apparently switching posts, since the line has slowed a bit, and there’s a break in the action.
“In a funny way,” I clarify, hoping she’ll agree.
“What’s going on, cuz?” Carlos asks Eve, but he’s looking at me and observing the exchange. “Everything okay?”
Eve breaks from her trance. “Yes, I’m sorry,” she says, turning to Carlos. “I’ll be right over.”
He sticks his hand out to me, and finally confirms his identity. “I’m Carlos Diaz, Eve’s cousin.”
I shake his hand and feel the warmth of it through my glove. It’s a hand that has been cooking with fire, and despite the conditions outside, it’s toasty and warm.
“My cousin isn’t usually this rude,” he says, nodding to Eve.
“It’s okay.” I laugh. “I’m Bennie.”
“This is Bennie,” Eve says, a beat too late, and Carlos laughs at her.
“Yeah, got that.”
“And those are my friends,” I say. I gesture for them to come over, and they all surge at once, like a football team after a snap.
“This is Izaac, Cash, Audra, and Diya.” They each smile and wave as I point them out.
“I remember you, from the cider station, right?” Eve says to Diya, who nods.
“Oh, me too! You guys work at the tree farm, right? I’ve seen”—Carlos looks around at everyone, recognition dawning—“well, at least a few of you before.”
“Not me,” Izaac says. “But yes, these hooligans do.”
“Yup!” Cash says, leaning in to say hi to Eve. “Your shadow’s still fire.”
Eve blushes and it’s so unbearably cute, I could die. I’ll have to thank Cash for that later.
“And…” Carlos turns to Audra and sticks his hand out. “I know you from somewhere… Do you work at the farm, too?” When she reaches over to take it and looks in his eyes, I swear I see sparkles.
“Not me. I live here, actually. Well, not here here. I don’t live in a tree lot.” She laughs nervously. I watch Izaac’s face contort into a look of shock as his usually very composed and cool sister stammers at this dude. “But ya know, in Brooklyn.”
Eve and I exchange a brief look, and my heart stops, because it’s obvious we’re sharing a thought. But it’s over just as fast and she turns back to her cousin.
“Okay, well, thanks, ’Los. I’ll be right over,” Eve says to him, now that he is the one holding up the line.
“Yeah, I’m so sorry for holding up the operation,” I say, turning my attention to the people now in line, a man and woman who are cradling a tiny shivering dog in a tiny argyle sweater, huffing and shaking their heads. “We’ll get out of here.”
I don’t move, though, because really I absolutely do not want to be on our way. And I want to see if Eve will protest.
“Wait, aren’t you all hungry? You were in line for food, no?” Carlos asks.
“Oh, I… we…,” I start, because he’s right and I almost forgot that part, but my brain can’t produce a quick and reasonable response.
Fortunately, Carlos isn’t waiting for one.
“We’re about to close up for the night and have a little dinner ourselves,” he continues.
He gestures around, and there’s Hugo, still in his suit, helping to bag orders at the smaller table.
Apparently, it’s a whole family affair. “We just have a few last customers to take care of, and then how about you guys join us?”
At the same time, my friends respond:
Izaac: “Oh, we couldn’t.”
Cash: “Starving!”
Diya: “Any vegan options, by chance?”
But my interest is in Eve’s reaction. Optimism, Bosley , I remind myself.
“You guys should,” she says, and it’s directed to all of us, but it’s enough of a confidence boost that I take the reins. “I mean, it is the best food you’ll find in Brooklyn. No cap.”
She puts on a smile and I’m reminded of her “guest relations” job at the bakery.
“She’s right. And you can’t leave without eating! House rules,” Carlos says. “Besides, tamales always taste better with friends.”
We exchange glances with one another, and there are subtle smiles and why not shrugs all around. Izaac delivers our wordless verdict, and thanks Carlos on our behalf.
And just like that, we have new friends.
And finally, food.
But most importantly, I just may have a real shot at that first kiss.