Pioneer Days started on Friday night. Main Street was barricaded, so cars had to park on the side streets. The merchants lit their shops with kerosene lamps and dressed in old-fashioned clothes. Most of them served apple cider or coffee. I was saving my costume for the next day.
Webb reached for my hand. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.” My heart didn’t beat faster like when I was with Sam, but it was still nice.
Webb stopped at one of the booths and ordered hamburgers and lemonades. We sat at a picnic table with Big D and a stuffed collie dog.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Won it at the basketball toss,” Dwayne answered. “Thought I’d give it to Jenny. She’s in the hospital again.”
“That’s a stupendous idea,” Webb said.
Hearing about Jenny caused sad feelings to gush from my heart and fill my whole chest. I had started donating part of my allowance to St. Jude, and after reading my newspaper article so had lots of other kids.
Big D shot an imaginary basket. “Stripped the net three times in a row. That ball swished through the air smooth as silk. Sam won a dog too. Gave it to her little brother.”
One mention of Sam and my heart beat faster. I looked down the crowded street, but there was no sign of her. “Where’s the horse show?”
“The big field beside the community center,” Webb said. “It’ll start tomorrow morning.” He pulled the program out of his jacket pocket and took a look. “At ten o’clock.”
Webb and I finished our burgers and shuffled down Main Street. I kept my eyes peeled, hoping for a glimpse of Sam. Little kids bobbed for apples, and we stopped to watch for a while. The air was full of good smells: cotton candy, caramel apples, salty pretzels, and funnel cakes.
We strolled toward a bluegrass band playing on a stage at the end of Main Street. “Why are you wearing a rubber band around your wrist?” Webb asked.
Trying to think of a good excuse, I snapped myself with it a couple of times. “Uh, um, I was helping Mom organize her files and forgot to take it off.”
The fiddle moaned a sad song about a girl who died young. A few couples danced in front of the stage. Webb reached for my hand again. “Want to dance?”
I watched the other couples over his shoulder. Melissa was dancing with a dark-haired boy. She had her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her face. I should have felt that way about Webb, but I didn’t.
When the song ended, Melissa caught me staring at her. Our eyes locked. She knew I’d rather be dancing with Sam. Melissa grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and headed toward us. She probably hated me for being with Webb. I didn’t blame her.
Mom got there first. Her face was glowing. “Allie, Webb, I loved watching you dance! Practicing together really paid off.”
Melissa listened and watched.
My brain couldn’t make my mouth work. I wanted to scream at Mom, to beg her to stop. But I froze. I wanted to tell Melissa that I still liked Sam, but kids like us turned into adults like Coach and Miss Holt, adults that got hurt. But I didn’t. I didn’t say a word.
Mom reached into her pocket and pressed ten dollars into my hand. “Here, I want you to have a good time this weekend.”
Melissa shook her head. When she turned away, I almost went after her to explain. Almost.
Webb walked me home around nine o’clock. We climbed the steps to the front porch, and I reached into my pocket for the house key.
“I had a great time tonight,” Webb said.
“Me too.” It seemed like the polite thing to say, but it hadn’t been a great night—more like okay.
Webb pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Saturday is the best part of Pioneer Days. Nearly everyone will be in costume. The horse show is a bit smelly, but the square dancing is stupendous.”
Why did he have to be so fussy? The horse show would smell like a barn: hay, manure, and leather. It would remind me of learning to ride Penny. “I have an old-fashioned dress for tomorrow. I borrowed it from Sam’s sister.”
“I bet you’ll look beautiful in it.” Webb bent down and kissed my cheek. “See you tomorrow, Allie.”
No racing heart, no sweaty palms, no tingling cheek. Nothing. Was it possible for me to change? Did I even really want to? I put my arms around Webb’s neck to find out.
His eyes nearly bugged through his glasses, and his shoulders shook. I screwed up my courage and kissed him.
“Allie,” he breathed, “that was mag … magnificent.”
His sweet smile, and the way he stuttered “mag … magnificent,” made me feel like the biggest traitor since Benedict Arnold. “Oh … oh no!” I rushed into the house so he wouldn’t see me cry.