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COWBOY BOOTS decorated with enough bling to blind me caught my eye in the Main Street Boutique window display. “Those would be perfect for the dance next week.” I pulled Brittany back three steps and dragged her through the door of the store.

A Help Wanted sign sat propped against the wall and I had an epiphany. The cute clothes in the window were enough reason to ask Brittany to fill out an application—the discount would be great for us both.

“But I don’t need a job.”

My best friend had forgotten how persuasive I could be. “But I need those boots.” I lifted one eyebrow and waited for her to sigh and roll her eyes. That’s how I knew she was under my spell.

Like a good girl, she took the sign from the front window and asked to speak with the manager. Just like that, the store owner hired her on the spot. She opened last month and needed someone with good fashion sense to help her run the store. I nudged her shoulder and she asked, “When do I start?”

They agreed her employee discount could be used immediately, with the understanding that if she quit within ninety days, the amount of the discount would be taken from her last check.

Four one-hundred-dollar bills laid flat on the table and Brittany’s eyes widened.

She waited until we exited the store before probing.

“How do you have enough cash to pay for all this? Does minimum wage really stretch that far?” She frowned, thinking.

“What about your brother and sisters? Are they okay?”

“They are. They’re better than they’ve ever been. I’m able to buy them whatever they need. Honestly, whatever they want.” The money I made at the bar boosted my confidence. People didn’t laugh at my hair and clothes anymore and I wanted that for Brittany, too.

I walked out with those boots, a dress, two pairs of jeans, and a shirt. Brittany made out on the deal, too. I insisted she let me buy her a new dress for the upcoming Halloween dance.

Now that Cody had left me, again, for college, I was so sad. If I didn’t have Brittany, I just might want to die. I almost felt like I needed to buy her friendship; my recent MO had been to ghost her.

Downtown Seward bustled with residents who visited the fall festival; we took the bags to my mom’s car and stuffed them in the trunk. “What next?”

“Are you hungry?” Let’s get some food. Something non-Alaskan.”

Food trucks radiated scents of meat and grease from Main Street. One advertised Texas Barbeque and smelled of sweet sauce; my stomach growled.

“Not really. Let’s go see what cool art people are selling.”

Disappointed, I trailed after Brittany. As many times as I’ve bailed on her, I felt that I owed her a good day.

Vendor tents lined the four alleys and for the first time in Seward, a psychic had been invited to attend. A purple tent with a crystal ball logo stood out amongst the mostly white, mundane set-ups of local artists. The large two-compartment structure appealed to me.

“Oh, look. A psychic.” Brittany grabbed my arm and pulled me to the tent. “I need to know what my future holds. Will I stay in Seward or move back to Anchorage after graduation? Will I get accepted to a college or need to beg on the street corner?” She laughed at her own uncertainty.

We entered the tent and rang the bell, as instructed. A short, pudgy, wrinkled woman appeared and smiled. “Well, girls. Good afternoon. Welcome to my lair. I am Madame Ester.” A frown wrinkled her face even more. “You’ve been in a funk for some time, my dear.”

Not sure what to think—anyone can be in a funk at any given time, right?—I glanced at Brittany. “Me?” She had pointed to me, but I needed to be sure.

“Not to worry, dear. Your one true love will come back to you, soon. You’ll marry him, one day.”

Thrilled, I bounced behind Brittany as we passed through an opening into a private space. We sat around a small table covered with a purple cloth. Madame Ester reached across the table and gazed into Brittany’s eyes. “Dear, let me read your palm.”

GEOMETRY sucked. Just sucked. Mrs. Wilson adjusted the chalk to write the volume formulas on the board.

Her voice grated on my nerves worse than fingers on a chalkboard.

Nasally and high-pitched, she sounded like Lisa Simpson.

I giggled as a picture formed in my mind of her with a saxophone dancing across the classroom.

“Miss Smith, I’m happy you’re in such a fantastic mood. Do you have something to share with the class?”

I had been in a fantastic mood ever since Madame Ester read my palm. The part about me being careful, though, impeded my giddiness for about a minute.

She warned me how she saw someone angry in my life. At that moment, a vision of Cody with his hands around my neck appeared. I pushed it aside and focused on the positive. He would come back for me. I would marry him, someday.

“Nope.” I leaned back in my chair, confident that she wouldn’t call on me.

“Well, then, why don’t you come up to the board and solve the second problem on page two-fifty-six?”

Dammit . I knew better than to talk back or resist. Last semester, a kid refused to work on a problem, and she gave him detention. She insisted on her students actually learning, not skating through with little effort.

Heat rose up my neck as I grabbed the piece of chalk between my fingers. I pursed my lips and copied the problem from the book. Surely some of this training had been lodged in my memory, somewhere.

I searched and tried to remember anything but being under pressure caused me to freeze. If I didn’t even try, she would give me extra problems and possibly make me stay after school. I had to work, so that couldn’t happen today.

With my eyes closed, I thought about Cody and our future.

I wouldn’t need Geometry to be his wife and the mother of his kids.

However, I did need to do well in this class.

I opened my eyes and saw that the answer to the question had already been written.

My subconscious obviously understood this stupid class.

“Very good, Kennedy. I knew you had it in you.” Mrs. Wilson winked, then whispered, “Nice boots,” as I passed.

MUFFLED MUSIC reached my ears as we passed by a set of double doors.

Students filled the hallway as they waited to check in their coats.

Brittany handed hers to the attendant, but I decided to keep my jacket on.

“We Belong Together” played over the speakers, I could tell by the beat, but was not able to make out the words .

God, I hope all the songs aren't this lame tonight.

Halloween decorations hung from the ceiling, bopping kids on the head as they bounced off each other and, literally, off the walls. Ghosts, witches, and black cat posters covered the front of the glass cases, which contained football and basketball trophies.

My new boots hurt my feet, but I didn’t care. They were cute as hell. Brittany talked me into pairing an old-school jean skirt with a white tank top and a leather jacket to complete the ensemble. I liked it; I felt sexy.

Brittany wore the classic “little black dress” I had bought for her.

It clung to her curves and she continuously pulled on the hem which barely reached mid-thigh.

The long, stuffed tail and perky ears attached to a headband completed the sexy cat costume.

I drew on whiskers with eyeliner just before we left her house.

“Cool it, Brit. If you keep yanking on the material, it will stretch out.”

“But it's too short.” Brittany pulled on the hem, again, and squirmed.

“It’s sexy as hell,” I said.

I lifted my chin as I turned to investigate a sound behind me. Warm hands covered my eyes, and someone whispered in my ear, “Guess who?” His breath on my neck made me shiver.

Cody wasn’t due back from college until Christmas. I could barely contain my excitement but wanted to play it cool. Obviously, there was only one possibility of who it was; I was in a playful mood, though. “Brian?”

“No.” He chuckled.

“Justin?”

“No.” He huffed and tightened his grip.

I wondered how far I could take the joke and said, “Sam. It must be Sam.” I couldn't help myself. I knew it was Cody, but he didn't know I knew.

Brittany snickered in the background.

“What the hell, how many names are you going to go through?” Cody released my head and turned me around by my shoulders. Looking down, he searched my face. The second my lips twitched into a grin, his hands went to my hips, and he pulled me to him. My arms naturally rested over his shoulders.

“God, I missed you.” He lowered his head, hesitated for a split second before he pressed his lips to mine. It seemed like the soft, sweet kisses lasted for hours, but it only took seconds before Brittany rudely interrupted.

“Dude, get a room.”

She had admitted earlier in the day how she felt like the third wheel. I assured her she wasn’t, but she kinda was. I secretly hoped one of the cute guys would ask her to dance so she wouldn’t feel like she didn’t belong.

I hip-checked Cody. “I knew it was you the whole time. I don't even know a Sam. ”

“Yeah, whatever.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed a little too hard. An adorable smirk crossed his lips.

“You taste like Cinnamon. Got anymore?” Cody raised one eyebrow, knowing I had gotten into some Fireball.

“Right here.” I patted the pocket of my leather jacket.

I followed Brittany through the doors to the cafeteria and a strong guitar riff of “Animals” pumped through the speakers loud enough to make me think my heart was beating at the exact same pace.

That's better.

Nickelback was a huge improvement over Miriah Carey. In my opinion, anyway. Each step I took somehow matched the beat of the bass drum and my hips swayed just a little more than normal. In a couple beats, I was full-out dancing.