Page 14 of The Friend Game

“LOOK AT YOU!” Jill snorts into her mug of tea, which is quite rude if you ask me. “Those buns!”

“This is how she wears her hair, Jill,” I say grouchily, tugging on the white fabric of my dress and wishing it weren’t so clingy.

“No, I know. You look great, I just can’t believe my little sister, the same one who once asked what all the May the fourth be with you memes meant, is now standing in front of me dressed as Princess Leia.”

“You know it was this or that clearanced ninja costume at Halloween USA, and seeing as the school doesn’t allow costumes to have weapons or masks, a ninja costume would’ve been pretty lame.”

“True,” Jill agrees, pulling her blanket more tightly around herself. She woke up this morning with a sore throat and a low-grade fever. As such she will be staying home for the night, which means I get to wear the Princess Leia costume shepurchased for herself. Max will be going with the kids still, but since his Princess Leia will be staying home, he’s leaving the Han Solo costume Jill purchased for him at home and donning his costume from last year instead, P.T. Barnum fromThe Greatest Showman.

Star Wars costumes must be in this year though, because Liam told me he and his three best friends are all going as Luke Skywalker, undeterred by the fact that they’ll have to leave their lightsabers at home during the school party. Plus, there’s that kid Oliver from my first class who said he was going as a Wookiee. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Oliver’s pet rabbit who’s going to be Han Solo. So cute.

“Hannah, you ready to go?” Max walks in, his red coattails billowing out behind him. Jill wolf whistles from her spot on the couch and Max bends down to kiss her on the cheek. Thank God she’s sick or they’d probably start making out. Jill has a real blind spot when it comes to PDA. A problem that’s made worse by the fact that I haven’t had a boyfriend since The Disaster.

“I’m ready,” I tell Max. “Are you ready?” I add as Liam and Ellie come galloping into the room. “Because you’re the ringmaster of that circus.” I gesture to the kids, then laugh at my own joke. Nobody else does.

“You’ve been waiting all afternoon to say that haven’t you?” Jill rolls her eyes.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “That’s neither here nor there.” I take each kid by the hand. “Let’s Harvest Fest!”

***

“The winner is fourteen!” I announce, and a girl dressed as Elsa steps forward to claim her prize off the cake table. When I was a kid the prizes at cakewalks were things like boxes of Twinkies or Zebra Cakes, maybe the occasional boxed mix cake. Not at Grace Canyon. Nope, these cakes are legit. I saw one earlier that was from a bakery downtown. The price tag on the bottom read $47. Someone spent $47 on a prize for a cake walk.Forty.Seven. That’s about what I have left in my bank account after buying groceries earlier this week.

The kids who were just playing disperse around the gym, moving on to other games. There’s no one lined up to play next so I take a moment to adjust the bobby pins holding my buns in place.

“Hi, Miss Garza!” A familiar voice pulls my attention south, and I smile at Oliver the Wookiee.

“Hey, Oliver!” I bend down and give him a quick hug. “I love your costume!”

“Thanks!” He’s bouncing again, clearly excited to be alive.

“You’ll have to show me a picture of your pet rabbit in his costume,” I tell him.

“My pet rabbit?” His brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t have a pet rabbit. I have a dog…but my mom says I’m not allowed to dress him up. She got mad when I put my Chewbacca socks on him and he chewed them all up.”

“You don’t have a pet rabbit?” Now I’m confused. “But you told me your pet rabbit was going as Han Solo.”

“No, I didn’t.” Oliver giggles. “That would be funny. I wish I had a pet bunny.”

“Then who did you say was going as Han…” The question dies on my lips as my eyes land on the answer to my question. My mouth goes dry as I take in the living, breathing embodiment of every Stars Wars fantasy I’ve ever had. Which, okay, fine, I’ve never actuallyhada Star Wars fantasy, but after tonight I just might.

“Miss Garza,” Han Solo greets me with a smile, “or should I say Princess Leia?”

“Han Solo,” I squeak, patting the buns on the side of my head nervously as my eyes trail over the brown vest he’s wearing atop his off-white shirt then down to the cavalry style navy blue pants tucked into tall black boots.

“Look, Aunt Hannah!” Ellie is suddenly beside me. “Your costume goes with Pastor Abbott’s costume! Just like Mommy was going tomatch Daddy! Do you love Pastor Abbott like Mommy loves Daddy?”

Okay, this child is off my Christmas list.

“Oh, Oliver,” I say quickly, like I didn’t hear anything Ellie just said, “you saidPastor Abbottwas dressing up as Han Solo, not your pet rabbit!” I touch my palm to my forehead in the universal sign for duh, I’m so stupid. “I didn’t know your name was Pastor Abbott,” I explain to Mr. French Roast, who I should really no longer call Mr. French Roast, since I finally know his name. Pastor Abbott. He’s a pastor. I’ve been secretly crushing on a man of the cloth!

Sadly, I don’t think I’m holy enough to date a pastor. I mean, last year I fell asleep during the Christmas Eve service. Though in my defense, it ran really late.

Pastor Abbott grins at me. “Some call me Pastor Abbott, but Luke is fine too.”

“Luke?” Oh gosh. One facepalm was not enough. “You’re Luke? Like, Principal Novak’s son, Luke?”

“That’s me.”

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