Page 40 of My Secret Snowflake
“Oops. I lost track of time. I have to announce the next game.” Iris grabs my hand and pulls me away, back towards the bell above the bar. “Do you want to be my partner for the three-legged race?”
“Yes,” I say. Definitely.
She announces the “three-legged race down the aisle.”
“Dad will be the timer. Everyone, line up behind the starting line. Mom will hand out the scarves, and you’ll all have a few minutes to practice.”
She hops off the bar stool and grabs my hand. “C’mon. We definitely have a shot at this.”
Most of the women are taking off their heels.
Iris’s mom hands us a scarf, and I bend down to tie our ankles together. Iris’s skirt ends just above the knees, and I feel like I’m peeking at forbidden skin as I slide the soft fabric around her ankle. I place my foot next to hers and finish tying the knot. I look up. Iris is very still. I swear the vibe is more than “just friends.”
I break eye contact first and pull my leg to make sure the knot holds. Then I stand, and Iris wraps her arm around my waist and says, “Let’s take a few practice steps. Tied foot together first. One, two, three.”
I’m off, and she falls slightly against me. I hold her up. She looks up at me and laughs.
I say, “Sorry, let’s try again.” All around us, couples are practicing. It’s a pretty narrow space in this front part.
More steps. We have a rhythm now.
Aunt Viola rings the bell. “Practice time over. Line up.”
We’re fourth in a line of couples. Rose and her husband are first. They race to the stage in seconds. The next two couples do well but not brilliantly.
“I think they’ve been practicing at home,” I say.
Now we’re up. Iris’s dad blows a whistle, and we’re off. Iris is counting out loud, “One, two, one, two.” And she’s speeding up. We’re leaping now. Like flying reindeer. Or unwieldy elephants.
“One, two.” Iris counts the pace.
“Go, go,” I say, my arm gripping her body in a death lock.
And we’re across the line. We bend down at the same time to catch our breath, knocking elbows.
Her dad yells our time. “Iris and Sebastian for the lead.”
Iris hugs me, and we jump up and down together. Her head is thrown back, laughing, and the feeling in my chest is like joy bubbling out of a champagne glass.
I give her one last hug and release her.
“Hurray for the singles,” says Rose.
“That signals good long-term potential there,” Aunt Viola says.
We move off to the side and sit on the stage.
“At least you’ve now garnered Aunt Viola’s sign of approval. She’s usually very stingy about granting it. She liked Patrick, but not for long-term.” Iris sighs. “She said, ‘You should definitely date him, but try to hold back a bit of your heart.’”
“And did you?” I ask.
“Maybe. Maybe that’s also why it didn’t work out.”
She reaches down to untie the scarf. Her fingers brush lightly against my leg.
“It’s stuck.”
I crouch down too. Iris’s skin is flushed, making her green eyes all the brighter.
