Free Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances by John Green, Lauren Myracle, Maureen Johnson Page B

I played Mouse Trap the entire time. The first time we tried to do it correctly, but Mouse Trap has all these gizmos and things that swing around and drop a marble. It’s weirdly complicated for a kids’ game.
    The second time we played, we made up entirely new rules, which we liked much better. Stuart was really good company—so good that I didn’t even notice (that much) that it was taking Noah a while to call me back. When the phone rang, I jumped.
    Stuart answered it, because it was his house, and he passed it to me with a kind of strange expression, like he was a little displeased.
    “Who was that?” Noah asked, when I got on.
    “That’s Stuart. I’m staying at his house.”
    “I thought you said you were going to Florida?”
    In the background, I could hear a lot of noise. Music, people talking. Christmas was going on as normal at his house.
    “My train got stuck,” I said. “We crashed into a drift. I ended up getting off and walking to a Waffle House, and—”
    “Why did you get off?”
    “Because of the cheerleaders,” I said with a sigh.
    “Cheerleaders?”
    “Anyway, I ended up meeting Stuart, and I’m staying with his family. We fell in a frozen creek on the way. I’m okay, but—”
    “Wow,” Noah said. “This sounds really complicated.”
    Finally. He was getting it.
    “Listen,” he said. “We’re about to go over to see our neighbors. Let me call you back in about an hour and you can tell me the whole story.”
    I had to hold the phone away from my ear, so great was my shock. “Noah,” I said, clapping it back into place. “Did you just hear me?”
    “I did. You need to tell me all about it. We won’t be that long. Maybe an hour or two.”
    And he was gone, again .
    “That was quick,” Stuart said, coming into the kitchen and going to the stove. He switched on the kettle.
    “He had to go somewhere,” I said, without much enthusiasm.
    “So he just got off? That’s kind of stupid.”
    “Why is that stupid?”
    “I’m just saying. I would be worried. I’m a worrier.”
    “You don’t seem like a worrier,” I grumbled. “You seem really happy.”
    “You can be happy and worried. I definitely worry.”
    “About what?”
    “Well, take this storm,” he said, pointing at the window. “I kind of worry that my car might get destroyed by a plow.”
    “That’s very deep,” I said.
    “What was I supposed to say?”
    “You’re not supposed to say anything,” I answered. “But what about how this storm might be evidence of climate change? Or what about people who get sick and can’t get to the hospital because of the snow?”
    “Is that what Noah would say?”
    This unexpected pop at my boyfriend was not welcome. Not that Stuart was wrong. Those are exactly the things that Noah would have mentioned. It was kind of creepily accurate.
    “You asked me a question,” he said, “and I told you the answer. Can I tell you something you really don’t want to hear?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “He’s going to break up with you.”
    As soon as he said it, there was a physical bang in my stomach.
    “I’m only trying to be helpful, and I’m sorry,” he went on, watching my face. “But he is going to break up with you.”
    Even as he was saying it, something in me knew that Stuart had hit upon something terrible, something . . . possibly true. Noah was avoiding me like I was a chore—except Noah didn’t avoid chores. He embraced them. I was the only thing he was walking away from. Beautiful, popular, fabulous-on-all-levels Noah was pushing me aside. This realization burned. I hated Stuart for saying it, and I needed him to know it.
    “Are you just saying this because of Chloe ?” I asked.
    It worked. Stuart’s head snapped back a little. He clicked his jaw back and forth a few times, then steadied himself.
    “Let me guess,” he said. “My mom told you all about it.”
    “She didn’t tell me all about it.”
    “This has nothing to do with Chloe,” he