Page 67 of Fa-La La-La Land
“It was the only way I could find down,” I shout back, my voice cracking like I’m fifteen again.
“Didyou forget about the ladder?” Mr. Sparks bellows.
That blasted squirrel chatters again, louder this time—definitely laughing now.
“I couldn’t get to it,” I say weakly. “My foot’s caught. Little help?”
“We’ll bring the ladder around!” Stella yells.
“Don’t bother,” Grandpa Sparks cuts in before Stella can move. “There’s no safe place to lean the ladder, even if he could reach it. Go call the fire department.”
Brilliant.
For the next fifteen minutes, I endure squirrel heckling and Stella’s constant encouragement, telling me, “You’re doing great!” When the fire truck finally arrives, they send up the bucket, and a firefighter in full gear helps me untangle my foot and crawl inside. I collapse on the floor, legs shaking, heart pounding, as the bucket lowers me back to blessed solid ground.
“Thanks, mate,” I tell my rescuer.
“No problem. Just doing my job,” he says, pushing back his helmet—revealing she’s a woman. “Hey, you’re Rhys James, aren’t you?”
I drop my head and nod. Of course.
We stop a few feet off the ground. Stella and Grandpa wait nearby, and I can practically hear the old man’s sigh.
“Now that’s over, I’d better skedaddle. Granny’ll be expecting me for lunch.”
Mercifully, he leaves seconds before the firefighter steps out of the bucket and offers her hand.
“I’m good, thanks,” I say, but she takes it anyway.
“It’s regulation. I can’t let you step out by yourself…but I can’t believe I’m holding Rhys James’s hand!” Her voice jumps an octave. “Can I get a picture? My friends won’t believe I rescued you! We’re huge fans!”
I glance helplessly at Stella before turning back. “If you don’t mind… sorry, what’s your name?”
Before she can answer, Stella does. “Rhys, this is Liv. We went to school together.”
“Stella! You didn’t tell me it was Rhys James stuck in your tree!” Liv whips off her helmet, grinning. “Hey, Jax,” she calls to the guy on the ground. “It’s Rhys James!”
“Hey, Liv, we’re actually trying to keep that on the down-low,” Stella says, nodding to Jax, who already has his phone out. “So, no pics, please.”
“Sure, sure. Of course,” Liv says, disappointed, as Jax shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“How about an autograph—and tickets to Winter Lights Live in LA? I can throw in backstage passes,” I offer. Liv’s earned it. Jax…not so much.
“Really? I’d love to! When is it?” Liv bounces on her toes while Jax manages a half-smile.
“Christmas Eve in LA.”
Both faces fall. “We’re working that night,” Liv says. “Rookies don’t get holidays off.”
“Thanks, though, man,” Jax adds. “Would’ve been lit to see you live.”
Liv’s momentary disappointment shifts to surprise, and she turns to Stella. “Are you going to be in LA on Christmas Eve?”
Stella’s gaze darts to mine, then back to Liv’s. Slowly, she nods.
“What about your letter?” Liv shoots me an accusatory glare. “She’s told you about the letters from her dad, right?” Then she’s right back to Stella, all concern and care. “How will you get it?”
“I guess I won’t this year,” Stella answers with a false cheer, but her face gives away how wrecked she is about missing her letter from Santa this year.
