“You know you’re not actually on the team, right?”
“I like him, okay?”
“No, you don’t. You ‘well I’m um I don’t know um I guess yeah maybe’ him.” Dani grabs her citrus knife. “And honestly, Hud? I’m tired of getting blown off just so you two not-lovebirds can make out.”
“That’s not fair,” I say. “I had to stay home with Bug on New Year’s.”
“But you didn’t stay home. You—”
“Yeah, sneaking out to a party in my own neighborhood for two hours is exactly the same thing as sneaking out to Canada.”
Dani taps her knife on the cutting board, nostrils flaring.
“Hey, I don’t want to fight,” I say. “It’s a new year, right? And we still have the rest of the weekend before school starts.”
“You’re right.” She sighs and meets my gaze.
“Sorry I snapped at you earlier,” I say. “And that I’m so wrapped up in this skating thing. It won’t be forever. Do-over?”
She nods and goes back to her fruit, dragging the knife across the rind. Thin orange slices fall into a neat stack on the chopping board in front of her. “You working tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’m on breakfast with Nat.”
“Feel like coming over after? We could order pizza, see what’s on cable? My parents keep asking about you.”
“I can’t. Maybe Sunday?” I set my mixing bowls in the sink and turn on the hot water, shoulders heavy with new guilt. “There’s a game tomorrow, and I promised Will—”
“Girls!” Mom twirls into the kitchen from the dining room, smile brighter than I’ve seen it in a long time. “I have news.”
“You found another waitress?” I ask hopefully.
Ignored.
“I ran into an editor from the Buffalo News at the Chamber of Commerce party, and I just got off the phone with him!” Mom presses her hand to her chest, cell phone still clutched in her fingers.
“Ohmygod that’s so amazing I don’t even know what you’re talking about! Yay!” I tighten my apron and pick up a half-iced Sabres cupcake. “If you don’t mind, I have a few more bison and swords to make here, so—”
“Hudson, he recognized me from your cupcake article. Remember?”
Creations zany with Watonka wows queen cupcake: Hot spot local into diner struggling turns talent teen’s. “Couldn’t forget if I tried.”
“They’re doing a feature on regional diners, and I asked him about including Hurley’s. He just confirmed—they’re sending a food critic in a few weeks. We’re in!”
“Well, all right!” Dani gives Mom a high five.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Trick cheers from his post at the grill.
“Okay, okay. That’s pretty freaking cool, Mom.” I set down the cupcake and give her a big squeeze. After the last Buffalo News article, we got tons of new business—enough to carry us through another year. A good review could totally put us back in the black. “When’s he coming?”
“February third,” she says. “Plenty of time to whip this place into shape.”
“You got it, Ma.” I smile, bullet narrowly dodged. My event is the first. Dani gives me a subtle elbow to the ribs, but I ignore it.
“This is our year, guys. I can feel it!” Mom offers another round of hugs and dips back into the dining room, the echo of her enthusiasm radiating throughout the kitchen.
“It’s so close to your competition date,” Dani says when Mom and Trick are both out of earshot. “What if she wants to put you on more shifts to get everything ready? What if … I don’t know. Anything could happen. They’re too close together. You should tell her.”
“No way. Why do you think I sneak around just to go to Fillmore and Baylor’s? Skating stuff totally reminds her of my father. She’d freak.”
“That was a long time ago, Hud. Maybe she’d be okay with it now. Maybe things have changed for her, and—”
“They haven’t.” I think back to that night with the bra, the lines in my mother’s face, the way she swept the evidence into the drawer like it didn’t exist. I think of all the fights leading up to that final straw, the arguments about ice time and private tutors and moving and how would they ever afford to keep me in the competition, anyway? I see my father’s suitcases, his empty promises, and my stomach twists, my eyes hot with stored-up, uncried tears. Not just for me and Bug. But for Mom, too.
“Give it a chance.” Dani takes a step closer. “Maybe she’d be excited for you. Maybe—”
“Maybe you should stay out of it. Maybe I don’t want to risk hurting her feelings.”
Dani slams her hand on the counter. “Since when do you care about anyone else’s feelings?”
“Settle down back there, ladies,” Trick says. He twists around and shoots us both a warning look, a cloud of meat-steam rising behind him. The whole effect is quite devilish.
Dani sighs. “But Hudson won’t—”
“Me? You’re the one—”
“Enough.” Trick flips something onto a plate and holds it over his head. “Bacon, egg, and cheese croissant up for table twelve, Dani. Run it.”
I strip off my apron and toss it onto the counter. “I’m going on break. Catch you guys later.”
She snorts as she heads for the grill. “Say hi to the ice for me—your new BFF.”
“No problem. You guys have a lot in common—cold hearts.” I grab my gear from the staff closet, stomp out the back way, and slam the kitchen door behind me. From the ledge of the Dumpster, the Hurley’s mascot squawks into the air.
“You got something to say to me, bird? Take a number.” I zip into my jacket and tighten the backpack over my shoulders, but the seagull is still giving me dirty looks.
“What?!”
He shrugs and dives under a loose cardboard box.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I yank on my mittens and march across the lot, Hurley’s disappearing in the snow behind me. Stupid bird. Can’t you see it’s still winter?
Chapter Seventeen
Chocolate Banana Snap Crackle Popcakes
Cold banana cupcakes topped with milk chocolate icing, sliced strawberries, and Rice Krispies; served in a bowl with a spoon and a splash of spilt milk (to cry over)
That sorry excuse for a triple ain’t happenin’, sweet stuff. Back on the glass until you nail it.
After the tenth consecutive wipeout, I pick myself up off the Baylor’s ice for another go, Lola’s voice scolding me at every turn. I pump my legs and rush toward the center line, but when I try the lift again, I lose my balance, crash, and skid to a halt on my ass.
Again! Lola shouts.
I stand and dust the cold from my hands, thinking about Parallel Life Hudson. She’d probably be doing this exact thing right now—prepping for a chance at Lola’s once-in-a-lifetime skating scholarship. If I’d stayed strong at Luby Arena that night, showed up at regionals, continued working with elite private coaches, I might’ve ended up exactly here anyway. Maybe I didn’t get that far off course. Maybe our divergent paths have finally fused. Maybe there’s still a chance. The chance.
I push across the ice and leap into a double axel/double lutz combo, pulling off a perfect landing. The crowd roars in my head, and when I close my eyes, it almost becomes real. The shouts and whistles from the stands, the crisp white smell of the air over a freshly smoothed rink, the chill rising from its surface.
Hudson Avery, ladies and gentlemen. The Cupcake Queen of Watonka, back for another shot on the ice. Can she impress the judges one last time? The crowd stomps their collective feet in a unified march, their energy a force field propelling me into another double/double combo.