Get used to it. There’s that word again—used.

“That guy probably wants his whole check comped.”

“He’s in here all the time. Just give him a coupon. And if he touches you again, send Trick out for a little chat.” Mom smooths her hand over my cheek. “Sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Through the window over the grill, I see Bug licking frosting off his fingers, laughing at something Josh said. “I’m fine. You guys have a good time.”

Mom smiles. “All right, we’re off to the North Pole. Assuming your brother doesn’t engage Santa in another hour-long debate about the physics of flying reindeer, we’ll see you after dinner. Take some of the turkey and potatoes home so you don’t have to fix anything.” She zips up her coat and digs the keys from her pocket, scooping up my chocolate-smudged little brother on the way out.

“Do you like it? Working here, I mean?” Josh inspects one of the new flyers Dani and I put together for my cupcakes, all pink and yellow and creamy-looking.

“It has its moments.”

“Seems like there’s tons of little stuff to keep track of.”

“It’s the little stuff that makes it so special.” I laugh, thinking of that perpetual issue with the third toilet. And the joy of clearing away a table and accidentally dipping your boob in a bowl of cold gravy. And the particular inner peace one finds whilst kneeling under a table, scraping at old gum with a butter knife.

“Anyway, enough about my exotic life. Here.” I pass him one of the Peachy Keens from the case. “You’re the inaugural taster. Tell me what you think.”

“Okay, but first, the real reason I’m here today.”

“It wasn’t for the award-winning coffee?”

“Not even for the show.” Josh winks. “Not that it wasn’t highly entertaining.”

I turn away to rearrange the salt and pepper shakers on the counter, secretly cursing Bug for not being genius enough to invent a time machine. I’ve seen enough sci-fi movies to know you’re not supposed to mess around with the past, but erasing one humiliating event from the last hour of our lives can’t hurt, can it?

“Will sent me,” Josh says, draining the last of his coffee. “He’s nervous about Friday’s game and wants to call an extra practice before Thursday. Can you meet Tuesday after school?”

“She’s working Tuesday,” Dani announces. I love how she just magically apparates at exactly the right moment.

“What?” she says when I shoot her the patented STFU glare. “Your mom posted the schedule.”

I grab the big sugar jar from under the counter and unscrew the caps on the dispensers that need refills. “I’ll get Nat to switch. Her last test is Monday—she’ll be looking to pick up shifts.”

“I thought you—”

I cut her off with another warning look. “It’s fine, Dani. Josh, it’s fine. Tell Will I’ll be there.”

A wave of frustration passes over Dani’s face, but it’s gone in a blink, replaced with something closer to mild annoyance.

“Nat needs the money,” I say. “It’s cool.”

“Just once a week, right Hudson?” She reaches behind me for the coffeepot, still grumbling under her breath. Fortunately, I don’t think Josh heard.

“You haven’t tried your cupcake yet,” I say once Dani goes back to her tables.

“Working my way up to it.” Josh makes a show of rolling up his sleeves, hefting the cupcake from the plate, and scarfing down the first bite. His eyes close and I sneak a covert glance, refilling the sugar dispensers as the smile rises on his face. I love that part. I mean, the part when people appreciate the cupcakes, not when Josh smiles. Not that I don’t love his smile, just that I was thinking more about the—

“Waitress?”

I drop the sugar jar, spilling a bunch on the counter. On the other side of the dining room, Cowboy holds up his empty plate.

“I didn’t like these eggs after all,” he shouts. “Can I get something else?”

“We’re all out of something else.” I grab a rag and sweep some of the sugar into my hand, making more of a mess.

“Ready for a few more tables?” Dani scoots behind me to restart the coffee. “Big party heading in. I think it’s that birthday group from last month.”

“The crazy one with all the Karens?”

“You guessed it. Hopefully we won’t get any noise complaints this time.”

She speeds back to the floor and I look for something to focus on—a stain on the wall, a chipped mug on the rack below the counter. Anything to keep my head from exploding all over my lavender Hurley Girl dress, right in front of Josh.

“Miss, why don’t you have the ham quiche today?” An elderly woman taps on the counter at the other end. “I always get quiche on Saturdays, and I bring some back to the senior center for Bess, and now I don’t know what to do, because broccoli gives her gas, and I—”

“Take your seat, ma’am. Your waitress will be right with you.” I close my eyes and try to disappear, but that trick never works.

“Hudson?” My name is close on the air, caressing my cheek. I open my eyes. Josh is leaning forward on his elbows, his eyes bright and clear, his smile warm. Behind me, something crashes in the kitchen. Trick swears. The birthday group ladies blow through the front door like a blizzard, bearing presents and balloons and big, cackling laughs. Dani rushes to greet them with an armload of menus and they cheer. The other customers raise their voices to compensate. Cowboy rings the silver bell at the register again and again. Ding ding ding dingdingdingdingding …

“You okay?” Josh asks. “You look like you’re about to—”

“I can handle it.” I have to. I swore I could. “Did you like the cupcake?”

“Not really.” He smiles again. “Love is a better word. But I should go—you’re slammed.”

He digs into his pocket and drops a five on the counter, then bundles into his winter stuff. “Hang in there, Hud. Text me later about Tuesday.”

He disappears out the front door, and reality rushes over me like an avalanche. I tighten my apron again, stick a fresh order pad in the front pocket, and swipe the just-brewed coffee from the warmer, armed and ready for the birthday group.

Hudson Avery, ladies and gentlemen! Fresh from the frigid shores of Lake Erie in the biggest comeback of the century!

“Whoa!” Dani jumps out of the way right before I sideswipe her. “Watch it!”

“Ow!” I shake a splash of hot coffee from my hand, recoiling from the sudden sting. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”

“You’re not paying attention.”

“I’m busy!” I reach behind her and grab a clean towel from the shelf.

“Hud, listen to yourself.” She sets her tray down on the counter, louder than necessary, if you ask me. “You sure you know what you’re getting into with all this?”

“I said I can handle it.” I toss the towel over my shoulder and scoot around her, marching off to greet the Karens et al with my best birthday grin.

Two, three months tops.

Chapter Nine

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Falling Down Hurts Real Bad, Too, Cupcakes

Red velvet cupcakes with warm raspberry center and cream cheese icing, topped with mashed mixed berries and served on a chocolate-drizzled plate

Tuesday afternoon. Four p.m. Four below zero.

I bombed my eighth-period government quiz.

I’m behind on the reading group questions for The Scarlet Letter, and Hester Prynne is totally mad at me.

My tray-carrying shoulder is about to go on strike.

And twelve seconds into Will’s emergency extra practice, Chuck Felzner’s already starting with me.

“Aw, man,” he says when I skate forward. “She’s here again?”

I take in an icy breath and yank my gloves off. Sure, I could definitely do without the whining, but I’m not here to be anyone’s bestie. I just need to show up, get them to improve their game. Show them how much they need me, just like Will says. In exchange, I get the ice time. Quid pro whatever.