Even If the Sky Falls Read Online Free PDF Page A

song, joining a buzok (I kid you not, I’ve never even heard one being played live; it looks like someone whittled down the top half of a guitar’s body and left the bottom as is), a fiddle, and an accordion. I am entranced by his fingers and try to look away, but only find my way back to his smile. He knows this I think because he can’t stop grinning. My cheeks flush, and I decide to give in to the music and try my hardest to forget about the Electric Blue Boy who knows the effect he has on women. I only catch a few of the lyrics that say “a night to wake, a night to live,” and I gather these words to me and take them with me through the night.
    The band finishes “The Merry Wanderer” and picks up another—the crowd cheering as they do. It’s Mid-Summer, and no one likes a lull. Shaking my hips from side to side, I find the rhythm of one song after another. Electric Blue Boy follows me with his eyes, and that’s all I need to join in on the fun.
    I shimmy over to the nearest café and borrow a pair of spoons, slapping them together across my thigh to trythem out. They make a nice, crisp sound that rings clear even through the pulse of the French Quarter. I have no idea who this new Julie is, but she feels fantastic and I let her take over. Electric Blue watches me, eyebrows arched up in surprise.
    â€œYou going to join us, Sunshine?”
    I strike the spoons against my thigh. “Keep up if you can!”
    I have no idea what I’m doing, but I don’t care. I probably sound terrible but somehow it all works out. Our arms rub against each other, I feel a lightness I’m not expecting, and I hope it happens again as the crowds press us nearer and nearer. He leads the way down the street, pushing his shoulder against mine, and we walk that way for a song or two. Or three? I feel . . . I don’t know what I feel, it’s different and new and I can’t describe it, and as I look up into the sky, I catch a glimpse of the quarter moon, peeking out from behind the clouds, pushing away the pitiful sun, ready to take over.
    â€œCome on, Sunshine,” he says over his shoulder.
    The accordion player is leading a line of revelers out of our secluded little corner and back into the mass. I follow. The wind follows, moving my wings back and forth—I’m flying. Street after street I play my little spoons until my arms hurt.
    Eventually we stop and the crowds clap as the Midsummer Boys take a bow and the crowds rejoin the living,pulsing mass that is the Mid-Summer mayhem.
    My phone buzzes, a quick look tells me it’s Tavis: Where are you? I drop the spoons, quickly lost in a sea of legs. There are twenty messages on my phone from Tavis. How did I not notice this? They’re all variations of the same question: Where are you? We’re worried about you. Everyone is out looking for you. I scan the crowd, hiding my growing panic, but don’t see him.
    You’re just being paranoid, Jules. No way he can find you here.
    â€œTake a bow, Sunshine.” Electric Blue Boy looks back, reaching for me.
    We lace hands; the strength in his grip feels comforting, reassuring, and surprisingly intimate. Does anyone else notice how my gaze drifts down to our hands entwined? Do they share the flush across my skin? We bow to what’s left of the crowd.
    â€œIt’s over?” I manage, gripping the phone tighter. It’s still buzzing, pulling me away from Electric Blue’s touch, and his steady pulse that seems to sync with mine.
    â€œThis is just the pre-party. Parade starts at eight—still a couple of hours to kill before then, plus gotta scope out a place to take it all in.” He takes his hat off to slide the banjo across his back before replacing it with a flourish. “You?”
    I ignore the buzzing and focus on his eyes, shoving the phone back in my pocket.
    Before I can answer, his three bandmates huddlearound us. “Sunshine,