Sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up. I hope you guys are still with me.

It's not very eventful, but it leads up to the events of the next chapter, which is also the final chapter.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.

x x x

Chapter seven

Carl kept the information he knew about Joe and Katie to himself. He didn't know exactly why, but he felt like he might need it for later. And whenever that opportunity presented itself, he wanted to be prepared.

Keeping the secret didn't mean he put it out of mind, however. In fact, it was just the opposite. He spent the whole week trying to figure out why Katie lied. At first, he wasn't so sure she had—perhaps Woody was the one with the misunderstanding—but then he noticed Joe had stopped showing up. Katie never commented on it, so neither did he.

And just for the sake of hypothesizing, it was possible that the reason Joe had stopped showing up was because he'd launched into a jealous rage and refused to ever speak to Katie again when he'd seen her with her hands in Carl's hair the morning she made the cookies. However, Carl was pretty sure that was just wishful thinking.

Katie seemed to grow more and more restless as the week wore on and the moonlight festival drew closer and closer. Carl kept expecting her to say something, anything that would confirm or deny what Woody had said, but she never did. Not even when it came to Thursday, the day before the festival.

That was when Carl couldn't take it anymore.

"Don't forget, we're closed tomorrow for the festival," he told her as they were wiping down the tables for the night.

"I know," she answered without looking at him.

"Guess you wouldn't forget—tomorrow's the big date with Joe, huh?"

He saw her pause, but only for a moment. "Yeah. I guess it is."

"Are you excited?"

"Yep."

"Really? That's weird."

Katie came to a full stop then. "What do you mean? What's weird?"

Carl's heartbeat quickened at the impending confrontation. "It's weird because when Joe asked you to go with him just a few days ago, you said no."

She stared at Carl, this time with no response.

"And the reason why that's weird is because you had told me he asked you two weeks ago, and you said yes."

Finally, she spoke, her voice low and quivering. "So you eavesdropped on me?" He could see her face flushing—presumably with anger.

"No. Woody told me earlier this week."

"So?"

Carl felt the conversational rug pulled out from under him—he hadn't expected that response. "So? So?" he stumbled, groping for his next move. "So why would you lie?"

He watched her fist clench and unclench around the rag, her face still red. "Why do you think?"

More speechlessness on Carl's part. "Why do I…" he started to echo, his voice dying away.

"Come on—you can't think of one reason?"

"I don't know, to screw with me?" He felt the familiar fury Katie always seemed to invoke in him pouring through his veins, making his whole body go cold and then hot. "You're always playing games! You can't ever just say what you mean!"

"Well, what the hell do you expect me to do?" She threw the rag down on the table, but her hand shook, weakening the force so it fell limply and noiselessly. "Sorry I'm not mature enough for you, Carl. Not like your stupid ex-girlfriend you've been running around with so much lately."

"Ellen?" She seemed so out of place in this conversation, and somehow that only fueled Carl's anger. "You're the one running around all the time, with that moron Joe! The guy wears a bandana, for Pete's sake!"

After a moment's pause, Katie abruptly clapped her hands over her face and her shoulders began to shake, instantly inciting a panic in Carl. What had he'd done? He'd made her cry—he'd set off one of her fits—he'd hurt her—

And then she emerged behind her fingers and he saw she was laughing. "Oh, the bandana is terrible, isn't it?"

He sighed, a pressure release, and leaned back against a nearby table with a weary smile. "Yeah. It is. Christ, Katie. What are we even talking about?"

Her own smile faded away. "Me. How I lied about going with Joe." She paused. "I'm sorry about that. You're right. I was playing games."

"But why?" he asked, leftover frustration welling up in his voice. "What's the point?"

She shifted uncomfortably and grabbed up the rag again, twisting it in her hands. "I wanted you jealous. I wanted you to tell me not to go with Joe, because you wanted to take me." She turned away and reached up to her neck, as though she wanted to pull a curtain of hair across her face, but it was tied up in a high ponytail. Her fingers curled around nothing and then dropped back down to her side.

Carl gaped at her, and then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "That…that doesn't even make sense!"

She giggled nervously, still not meeting his eyes. "I guess it doesn't, does it?"

"I mean…how am I supposed to ask you, if you're already going with someone else? With Joe? And anyway, I thought you really liked him."

"No…" She trailed off, biting her lips with her lashes low. "I mean, he wears a bandana. For Pete's sake."

Carl's mouth twitched in a smile. "I thought you were into that."

"No. Actually, I've got a thing for curly hair."

She looked up then, but not at his eyes—he felt her gaze raised slightly to the curls springing in every direction from his scalp. He felt his head tingle, remembering how it felt when she'd run her floury fingers through his hair.

"But I suppose," she continued in a louder voice, now focusing on his face, "You're already taking Ellen tomorrow night. So the point is moot."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"What?"

"Ellen…" He shook his head. "I'm not taking her."

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

"So…"

He felt the silence stretched between them like a piece of rope, each of them holding taut to one end.

Then, snap.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to ask me?" Katie burst out, looking floored. "I mean, do I really have to beg you? I've practically thrown myself at you! It's the least you could do! This is embarrassing!"

"Well—I—! I was trying to figure out the perfect way to do it!" He scowled at her. "Give me a break, okay?"

"It's not a proposal!" she retorted, making both of them blush. "Just say it."

"Fine." He suddenly realized they'd slowly been walking forward towards each other, until now they stood face-to-face. Or more like forehead-to-chin, thereabouts, thanks to the height difference.

"Katie…"

"Yes?"

"Will you…do me the highest honor of…accompanying me…tomorrow night…when the moon is full and high in the sky—"

Carl's antics were cut short with a swift punch to his shoulder, eliciting a pained grunt that indicated he'd taken the hint.

"Will you go with the moonlight festival to me?"

She gave him the goofiest smile, without shame or restraint, and he was sure it perfectly mirrored her own. "No bandanas?"

"No bandanas. I promise."

She laughed with her head tilted back, taking his hand with a squeeze. "Then I can't refuse."

x x x

Carl didn't kiss her right after that, though he wanted to. He felt like he was supposed to wait—for that so-called "right moment." It was silly and sentimental, like he was back in high school, but he couldn't help himself. And anyway, he knew the time would come soon enough.

He spent the whole day in agony waiting for the evening to roll around, which really made him feel like a teenager. But eventually the time came, as it always does. He'd offered to meet her at Ronald's, but she said no, with the reason that it would be too weird. And Carl agreed, with more than a twinge of relief—even though they weren't biologically related, he still saw Ronald as Katie's father. And he wasn't quite ready for Ronald's reaction to the two of them going on a date.

Instead, she came to him. He paced fervently back and forth in front of the café, half-tempted to tear his watch off and throw it away, just to keep himself from checking it every thirty seconds. But he couldn't bear not to check it. And then she finally got there, right on time, as usual.

She was beautiful, which itself wasn't a surprise, but it still knocked him senseless to see her. Her dress skimmed her thighs in a way that drew attention and invited imagination. He'd worn a nice button-down shirt, and she fingered the collar of it with a nervous giggle.

They held hands the whole way to the mountaintop, and then they kept holding hands under the moon, but eventually his hand found its way around her waist, and then he felt her hands sliding up to his shoulders, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the marvel of the way the moonlight so perfectly outlined the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose and the tips of her lips.

And a while after that, he walked her home.

It was perfect, the way a pretty figurine of glass looks perfect, all the way up until the moment before the hammer smashes it.