The weatherman called it “a record-breaking nor’easter”—the most rainfall and the strongest winds New Hope, Pennsylvania, had ever seen. All the storm radars indicated it would make landfall on Thursday night—the night of the Sadie Hawkins Dance.

Principal Bates watched the weather report all day before making her final decision. “I’m afraid we will have to postpone the seventh-grade dance,” Principal Bates informed the students over the loudspeaker Thursday afternoon. Everyone please stay safe and dry tonight. Once the storm passes, we’ll be able to reschedule.”

Everyone was disappointed, but no one more than Emma. She had worked so hard to make matches and counsel her peers ensuring a perfect evening. Now, everything was ruined, just ruined. There would be no dance, no beautiful pink decorations, no confetti cannon, and worst of all, no Jax.

She listened in bed that night as the rain beat forcefully against the windows and the wind whipped through the trees of their backyard. The lights flickered on and off, and her mom and dad made sure that she and Luc each had a flashlight in case they lost power altogether. When she awoke in the morning, there were downed power lines and uprooted trees everywhere. “School is canceled for today,” her mom came in to inform her. Luc was cheering from his room—his high school had also closed. “Thankfully the school didn’t lose electricity, but Ms. Bates says the gym is totally flooded and they need to get the water pumped out.”

“Flooded?” Emma gasped. “Where are we supposed to have the Sadie Hawkins Dance?”

“I think that’s the last thing on Principal Bates’s mind,” her dad told her. “The entire basement level of Austen Middle is underwater. It’ll be a long time before that gym is ready to be used.”

Emma couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t bad enough that the dance was canceled yesterday, now it would never happen? She looked at her dress hanging from a hook on her closet door. It was a beautiful shade of purple crushed velvet, with a wrap front and ruffles along the hemline. When she saw it in the window of Daniella’s Dress Boutique, she knew it was the one. She had been counting the hours till the dance—and this had to happen.

“It’s a natural disaster,” her father tried to soothe her frazzled nerves. He was watching the news about the local damage. “It’s no one’s fault. Sometimes, these things just happen. We’re lucky we’re okay. It could have been much worse.”

“Really? I don’t think so,” Emma sulked. She knew she sounded like a spoiled brat moaning about the dance being canceled, but it felt like such a letdown. She looked out the window—the sky was perfectly blue and the sun was shining. It was the calm after the storm. But couldn’t it have waited to happen over the weekend? Did Mother Nature have to step in and spoil everything the day of the dance?

As disappointed as she was, she knew the rest of her classmates would be just as upset. Harriet called her, moaning: “It’s not fair! I slept in rollers all night so my hair would have beachy waves!”

“I wish we could have the dance somewhere else besides the gym,” Emma thought out loud. “The storm is over. My dad says it’s perfectly safe to go out.”

“Go where?” Harriet replied. “Did you read the email from Principal Bates? The gym is underwater. Are we supposed to swim at the dance? And to think of all that cake and ice cream that will go to waste!”

Ice cream! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? “Harriet, I need you to call Izzy and meet me at Freddy’s in an hour.”

“Emma!” Harriet wailed. “How can you eat at a time like this? The Sadie Hawkins Dance is history.”

“No it isn’t—not yet,” Emma promised her. “I have an idea how to save it.”

“Freddy,” Emma said, barging through the door of the ice cream shop. “We have a terrible predicament.” She knew Freddy’s had survived five decades of rain, snow, sleet—even a small earthquake—and remained unscathed. The nor’easter had knocked out power in the area, but Freddy had an emergency generator so his ice cream would never melt. The lights were on, and Freddy was polishing the tabletops with a damp rag so they sparkled.

Freddy sat down on a counter stool and stroked his white beard. “Lay it on me,” he said. “I’ve heard it all over the years. What’s the problem?”

“Our school gym is flooded,” Harriet said.

“Underwater,” Izzy added.

“Totaled,” Emma continued. “And we were supposed to have our seventh-grade dance last night. That’s seventy very disappointed seventh graders.”

“Devastated,” Izzy piped up.

“Miserable,” Harriet sniffled.

“Well, that is a new one,” Freddy said. “I’ve never heard of a sunken gymnasium before. But what can I do to help? You kids need a few pints of Really Rocky Road to cheer you up?”

“Not exactly,” Emma said. “We need you to host the dance here.”

“Here? Seventy kids dancing here?” Freddy mopped his brow with a dish towel. “That’s a tall order, young lady.”

Emma walked around the ice cream shop. “If we pushed back all the tables, it would make room for a dance floor.” She continued visualizing it. “We could put the chairs stacked up high in the kitchen.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to help you and your friends out, Emma. But I don’t think I have the resources for a fancy dance. Who would I get for staff? Or to help me set and clean up?”

“We could ask Jordie and her decorating team to come in and make everything pretty and pink. Luc didn’t deliver the supplies, they’re all still waiting at Partytopia.”

“And I’m sure Ms. Bates, Mr. Goddard, and some of our parents would pitch in,” Izzy added.

“A dance needs music, doesn’t it?” the owner asked them. “All I got is an old jukebox that barely works in the corner.”

“Winston could do the audio and the lighting,” Emma volunteered. “He’s a whiz at it.”

“I dunno,” Freddy said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Pretty please,” Emma pleaded. “It’s just one night and you could totally save the day. You’d be our hero!”

Freddy leaned back and looked around. “A hero, huh? You really think you could dress this place up and have a dance here?”

“I know we could,” Emma said, confidently.

“Then I guess I can’t say no,” Freddy replied.

Emma threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Freddy, we can’t thank you enough. This is going to be the best Sadie Hawkins Dance anyone has ever seen.”

Emma called Principal Bates to tell her the good news.

“That’s wonderful, Emma,” Ms. Bates said. “And Austen will pick up the tab for all the ice cream—make sure you tell Freddy to save me one of his root beer floats!”

Harriet and Izzy were in charge of calling in the troops: Jordie and Lyla would bring all the cheerleaders to help decorate Freddy’s; Elton, Jax, and the soccer and track teams would help move the tables and chairs and clear the room; and Winston and the school show-choir tech crew would set up speakers and lights. They would all pitch in and help clean up, leaving Freddy’s spic-and-span after the dance was over.

That left Emma to fill in the rest of her classmates—with a special Ask Emma Urgent News Post. She sat at her laptop and typed:

Dear Fellow Seventh Graders,

I have some good news—make that some great news. Even though our gym is in bad shape after the storm, we have a place to have an amazing Sadie Hawkins Dance tonight: Freddy’s Deep Freeze! Everyone is pitching in to make this dance perfect. So get ready, get your dancing shoes on, and see you there at seven tonight! Please spread the word and make sure everyone knows we’re back on!

XO,

Emma

Her dad knocked gently on her door. “So now you can add party planner to your résumé, eh?” Mr. Woods joked. “I hear you saved the seventh-grade dance by getting Freddy to host it.”

“And I hear you asked Mom to marry her over a bowl of Lucky Charms,” Emma teased. “We’re both very creative.”

“That we are,” her dad said, smiling. “I also thought you might need a few extra hands tonight at the party, so your mom and I can volunteer.”

“Really? You don’t mind?” Emma asked.

“Mind? There’s a Funky Monkey Banana Split with my name on it waiting at Freddy’s. You can pay me back in ice cream—and you know Freddy serves ‘twenty tongue-tantalizing flavors every day.’”

“It’s a deal,” Emma agreed. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Oh, and I got your brother to DJ,” her father added. “I had to bribe him with a Star Wars marathon for the next five family movie nights, but I figure it’s worth it.”

Emma winced. “Okay. Anything to save the dance.”

Now the only detail that was left was Emma herself—in all the commotion over the storm, she hadn’t given much thought to how she wanted to wear her hair or what color lipstick and eye shadow would go with her purple dress. She stared at herself in her bathroom mirror: Her nose was sprinkled with freckles and her hair hung in loose blond waves down her back. She remembered what Jax had told her, “Sometimes you think too much, Emma, and you get carried away.” Then she thought about what her mom had said about her dad winning her over by being “the realest boy she ever met.” She applied just a dot of lip gloss, a hint of mascara, and a touch of powder, letting her natural beauty—and her freckles—shine through. Then she scooped her hair into a low ponytail and tied it with a lavender ribbon to match her dress. It was all simply perfect, and it was all simply her.