Chapter 1

One

Welcome to November, ohana! It was lovely to see so many of our middle school family members at our Autumn Festival. Now, the countdown begins for our annual Lights Festival. Mrs. Crenshaw is on a medical leave of absence, but never fear! Our holiday extravaganza is in excellent hands…

NOLAN

I stared down at the colorful newsletter distributed to students during last period and sent to parents via email. As someone who’d enjoyed a rocky relationship with reviewers, I tried to believe any press was good press. However, Principal Alana was testing that belief by way overselling my talents for a job I’d only learned about twenty minutes prior.

“Are you sure you want a substitute in charge of something so important?” I asked Principal Alana. She had arrived at the choir room shortly after the final bell sounded, undoubtedly to prevent my escape with the students and ensure my attendance at the holiday festival planning meeting.

“First, you’re not just a sub. You’re a Broadway star.” The principal was barely over five feet with long dark hair piled on her head. Many of the middle schoolers were bigger, and indeed, she didn’t look much older than the eighth graders. However, the principal had a voice worthy of commanding a fleet. “You’re exactly the shakeup this festival needs after years of the same script.”

“Star might be pushing it,” I said demurely. Sure, my resume was full of production credits, and if we counted Off-Off-Broadway, a few leading roles, but no one in New York would ever mistake me for a star. Perhaps things were different in Hawaii.

“Second, I’ll be honest, we don’t have a ton of other options.” Principal Alana continued her forthright attack on my resistance. Unlike the cushy New York private high schools where I encountered stiff competition for my substitute teaching and voice-lesson gigs, I’d apparently been the only applicant for the role of substitute choir director and drama teacher at this public fine arts magnet middle school. It was a sobering thought.

Impervious to my glum thoughts, Principal Alana plowed ahead. “Merry Winters will help, of course, but Merry lacks your flare. However, you can count on the industrial arts students to deliver whatever decorating vision the two of you arrive at.”

Merry Winters. I immediately visualized the industrial arts teacher as a kind, gray-haired British hippy lady. Probably ever so slightly butch, what with the woodworking classes, but churning out domestic projects like cutting boards and candlestick holders. Good at set construction, but seeking the guidance of a plucky Broadway star for this holiday festival.

And yes, I was exactly vain enough to love that vision.

“Lucky for you, I’m a praise wh—junkie, and all that ego stroking worked.” I winked at Principal Alana, narrowly avoiding calling myself a praise whore in front of my boss for the next two months. “Lead the way to this meeting.”

“How was the first day of classes?” she asked as we navigated the wide hallway lined with lockers, artwork, rules and reminders, and varied club and activity announcements.

“Fine. Loving it here.”

I delivered my lines crisply, with no hint of deceit. In reality, though, public middle school was way different from Upper Eastside high schools. No celebrity kids, no bodyguards lurking at the back of classrooms, no designer bags or gourmet lunch options, and definitely no ten-to-one student-to-teacher ratio to brag to the alums about. Instead, I’d had six periods of thirty to forty loud, rowdy tweens in barely controlled pandemonium. In fact, I’d narrowly avoided being locked out of my classroom by a pair of twin pranksters during first period. “Such spirited students.”

“Wonderful. Did Dory leave you good notes?”

“Oh yes.” More lies. Dory Crenshaw’s notes for a substitute included video recommendations out of the 1950s, suggestions for classes no longer offered, information pertinent to the school’s prior building, and very few real resources for the next two months. Naturally, the woman couldn’t have predicted emergency hip surgery following a fall doing the Halloween Hula at the school event, but Dory sure could have left more help.

“Feel free to put your own spin on the classes,” Principal Alana chirped. “I’m excited for some new material.”

From what I understood, Dory Crenshaw had been around since the fine arts-focused middle school achieved charter status in the nineties. Principal Alana was an alumnus of one of those early classes who’d shot up the teaching ranks to become principal of her old school. I liked her fresh ideas and enthusiasm because Dory’s musical selections desperately needed to leave the stand-still-and-sing generation behind.

However, not everyone shared Principal Alana’s desire to bring in new ideas.

“What do you mean we’re not doing Holly Holliday’s Holiday Surprise ?” Belinda Masters had likely taught math longer than I’d been alive, and from her stony expression, she also hadn’t smiled in nearly that long. “Parents look forward to that every year.”

“Emphasis on every year, Belinda.” Principal Alana released a long-suffering sigh. “Dory created that script thirty years ago, and it’s barely been updated.”

“That’s the charm.” Belinda gave a haughty sniff. With her long gray braid and pressed khaki shorts, she looked ready to lead an excursion for an Oahu bird-watching club, not unruly middle schoolers needing long-division help. “And what’s this I hear about food trucks?”

“The festival needs to grow.” The principal spread her palms wide. “We need the festival to be a big fundraiser for us this year. With budget cuts, we need the Lights Festival to fund spring field trips and cultural speakers. A fresh production, new sets, and, yes, new food options mean more tickets sold. The kids are counting on us.”

“Trying something new isn’t a terrible idea.” Ken Kekoa was a round, affable fellow around fifty who gave off lounge singer vibes but was actually a well-regarded art teacher my nieces adored.

“Thank you, Ken. I appreciate the open mind.” Principal Alana graced him with a wide smile, revealing her perfectly straight teeth. “I know Nolan and Merry?—”

“Sorry, I’m late.” A dude who had possibly wandered in from the nearest beach rushed into the room to take the open chair next to Principal Alana. Sandy-blond hair a good year past a trim, scruffy stubble, faded surfer board shorts, and a paint- stained T-shirt added to his haphazard vibe. “Did I hear my name?”

“You did.” Principal Alana beamed while I inwardly groaned. Like any good actor, though, I schooled my expression as she made introductions. “Merrick Winters, meet Nolan Bell. He’ll be in charge of this year’s holiday production for the Lights Festival. You’ll still handle all the lights and sets, of course.”

“Of course.” Merrick “Merry” Winters was neither British nor elderly nor a lady. And with a voice drier than week-old sand in a bucket, he clearly wasn’t thrilled about working with me.

“Like I was telling Ken, we’ll all need to work together.” Principal Alana either hadn’t picked up on Merry’s hostile glare or had decided to plunge ahead in her usual fearless style. She smiled encouragingly at Merry. “I know you and Nolan will appreciate the help from the students, and you’ll be the perfect right-hand man for Nolan in coordinating everything.”

“Uh-huh.” Merry sounded far from convinced as he leaned back in his ancient plastic chair, which let out an ominous creak.

“Just tell me what you need painted.” Ken motioned at Merry and me. “But I’m going to leave the festival details to you two. I’ve got to run to my second job.”

“Ken works evenings as a host at a popular resort restaurant,” Principal Alana explained. “Budget cuts state-wide and rising housing prices mean more and more of us working second and third jobs. They’ve got two in college and one in high school. It’s hard to make it as a two-teacher family these days.”

“Or as a struggling actor.” My voice was bright, but Merry remained anything but as he glowered at me.

“I’m sure. You’re the Bell sisters’ uncle from New York?” His brown eyes peered sharply into mine. “The famous Broadway dude?”

“You’ve heard about me?” I couldn’t help preening. Maybe I’d oversold the whole star thing to more than Principal Alana.

“Yep.” Merry’s tight nod deflated what was left of my ego. “You’re the fun uncle. What did they call you? The Funcle?”

Merry made it sound like a rash in a personal area rather than a cute inside joke between me and my favorite sister-in-law.

“I am the fun uncle. And the Guncle.” I adopted a proudly defiant tone. Might as well toss the gay uncle part out there right now. “And the little brother who can’t say no when his big, bad lieutenant colonel bro asks for a favor.”

As much as I liked being an uncle and adored my two nieces and new nephew, I was only in Hawaii because Craig had summoned me. And for all we were total opposites as adults, my heart still remembered him as the big brother who’d scared away all the monsters under my bed and defended me from school bullies.

“Bet you can’t wait to get back to Manhattan.” There was a challenge in Merry’s tone that I had to work to not take personally.

“I sublet my studio through the end of the year. I’m kind of stuck, but I’m not complaining.” More lies. I’d done nothing but complain in texts to my theater friends about the humidity, the sand in strange places, the lack of a social life, the unreliability of the public transit options, and more. But for Merry, I smiled serenely. “I’m happy to help with Craig and Cara’s new baby and the girls.”

“How is the baby?” Principal Alana jumped in before Merry could continue whatever this cross-examination was. “I heard Cara delivered him early.”

“Yes, that’s a big part of why Craig sent for me.” For all my excellent imagination, I didn’t harbor many illusions. Craig was deployed, leading some army mission, and if he’d had any chance of making it home before his wife had their surprise third baby, he wouldn’t have called on his flighty younger brother for help. “The baby came at thirty-four weeks in a dramatic fashion. Takes after his uncle.” Principal Alana laughed. Merry didn’t. Undeterred, I continued, “Noah Craig is out of the NICU now and home. He’s still teeny, but he’s doing great.”

“Wonderful. Love the name,” the principal enthused. It wasn’t exactly the same as having a namesake, and everyone kept calling Noah Craig “the baby , ” but I was awfully proud of the little guy nonetheless. “And I know you will make the whole family proud of you with this task for the school as well.”

Way to lay the pressure on a little more . I grimaced, trying to figure out how to tell her to lower her expectations. Luckily, the ill-tempered Belinda saved me from a reply, shuffling her papers and various tote bags on her way out the door.

“I have to head out as well. At least try to have some of the elements our Anuenue community has come to expect.” Belinda’s glare was almost as poisonous as Merry’s. The school was named after the Hawaiian word for rainbow, but there was little sunny about my reception thus far.

“Sorry. Belinda’s… passionate about our history. I’m sure whatever you come up with will be perfect.” Principal Alana managed to never waver from her chipper tone as she stood up from the table. “And with that, I’m going to leave you and Merry to get to know each other and devise a plan while I make some phone calls.”

“More disciplinary issues?” Merry groaned. He stretched, long, lean swimmer’s build on full display. He had the sort of broad shoulders and narrow waist combo that made watching the Olympics such a pleasure. However, it didn’t matter how hot the guy was if he didn’t want to cooperate and work together. “Please tell me I’m not on the naughty list.”

“Not this time.” She laughed lightly. “Legend and Ryder managed to survive the entire day.”

“Legend and Ryder are yours?” I blinked. Those were the identical twin pranksters from first period. I knew I should have sent them to the office, but I hadn’t wanted to make a fuss fifteen minutes into my new job. “You’re a dad?”

Merry seemed way too young and carefree to be a dad, but he nodded. “Yep. I trust they weren’t too much trouble.”

“Perfect angels,” I lied through my best smile. Never let the audience see you sweat. And precisely how I would put together an entire holiday festival performance in six weeks with Merry, who seemed to hate me on sight, remained to be seen.