Six days until the Willow Creek Summer Festival, and the town square felt electric with final preparations. The booths stood tall and proud, freshly painted in cheerful colors. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead like stars that had decided to come down early. The main stage was fully rigged, and the kids’ zone looked like something out of a storybook with its bright banners and games. The air carried the sweet scent of Mrs. Delgado’s lemon bars mixed with fresh sawdust and the ever-present damp earth after another light rain.
We arrived together as usual — Amina chatting animatedly about her latest signage ideas, Elias carrying a heavy toolbox, and me with my sketchpad for any last-minute tweaks. Mrs. Delgado spotted us from across the grass and waved her clipboard like a condu
