Page 20 of A Curvy Carol

Mom wrapped herself in a robe, then went to the front door and stepped outside. I was right behind her, although caroling wasn’t really my thing.

Sometimes people joined in with the Carol Karens, but I was happy listening for a few minutes and giving them a wave.

They reached the neighbor’s house, and I could see that they’d already added a few Garlanders to their group. I was pretty sure the entire neighborhood had come outside to watch and listen.

Then I noticed someone in the group waving at us.

“Oh, look, who is that?” Mom asked.

The person gave another wave before I recognized who it was. Whit.

He was singing with the Carol Karens?

“Oh my gosh,” I said, wanting to run away.

Of course, it made complete sense why he was with them. Singing with the Carol Karens was on our list, but I’d been secretly hoping we could get out of that one.

Now I wanted to hide. I was wearing my matching snowflake pajamas with my snow boots and robe. Not my best look. Maybe I could pretend I wasn’t home. That he’d seen someone else.

Mom must’ve noticed me trying to sneak away because she turned back to me and said, “Where are you going? Do you know that young man?”

Young man? I wanted to evaporate. She must not have recognized him from the picture with our trophy now that it was dark outside, which may get me out of this…

“I’ve gotta go,” I told her.

“He’s waving at you,” she said. “He’s coming up here.”

Oh no.

I turned back, and sure enough, Whit was making his way up our driveway.

He approached us with a grin that made me melt like our snowman would this spring. “Hey, Carolynn, where are you going?”

I mustered up a smile. “Hey, Whit. What are you doing here?”

“This is on our list,” he said, a little too happily. “So, of course, I had to join in.”

“Oh, you’re Whit!” Mom said, clapping her hands. “Carolynn, you should definitely join them. That sounds so fun.”

“You and I have different definitions of ‘fun,’” I muttered.

The Carol Karens finished their song and began moving to the next house.

“Come on,” Whit said. “Grab your coat.”

I groaned again. “You can’t be serious.”

“As serious as a peppermint shortage,” he replied, pulling out our list and holding it up like that sealed the deal. Mom chuckled at his simile, and I could tell he was winning her over too.

Before both Mom and Whit could join forces against me and drag me into the street, I went inside and got my coat, gloves, and hat.

But I was not happy about it at all.

I got all bundled up and found Whit waiting outside with my mom, a smug smile on his annoyingly handsome face.

“I really am not enjoying how happy you are right now,” I said, mostly sarcastically. “Both of you.”

“Why?” Whit asked, his grin growing even bigger. “Don’t you like singingcarols?”