“The dress is no problem. But Bug might be.” I head to the kitchen for a coffee refill. “I already have plans for New Year’s.”

Mom follows me. “I thought Dani was going to Toronto.”

“For your information, I have a life outside Dani.”

Mom raises an eyebrow.

“I have a date. With a boy.”

“What boy?”

“A guy from my school. He asked me to dinner and a party.”

Mom sips her coffee, eyes darkening. “Hudson, we can’t find a sitter on such short notice. Not without paying a fortune.”

“What about Mrs. Ferris?”

“She’s got her grandson this week, and I don’t want to impose on her any more than we already do.”

“But you never go out on New Year’s, Ma.”

“This is important. Not just for me, but for the diner. For all of us.”

I slump into a kitchen chair. “That’s your excuse for everything.”

She sets her mug on the counter and pours herself a warm-up, draining the pot. “Who is he? That Josh boy from the diner? You didn’t even introduce him.”

My cheeks burn, but I don’t feel like explaining about Will and Josh and Abby, so I just nod. “I’ll introduce you next time. But we need to figure out what to do with Bug, because—”

“What to do with me?” Bug shuffles into the kitchen in his camouflage footie pajamas, his morning face all scrunched up and disoriented. His hair is completely flat on one side, totally spazzing out on the other, and his forehead is creased with diagonal sheet marks. Equally disheveled, Mr. Napkins rolls alongside him, fur dotted with hay, his plastic hamster ball bumping into the kitchen table at least three times before he disappears under a chair. “What to do with me for what?”

“What to do with you … for breakfast!” I grab Bug into a spinning hug, pretending to bite his neck. “Bug omelet special, today only! Nom nom nom!”

Mom joins in on the munching, and Bug squeals and giggles and finally squirms out of my arms.

He ducks behind the kitchen curtain and peeks out the window, the light illuminating his shape under the fabric.

“Holy tortellini, you guys,” he whispers. “I just remembered something important.”

“What’s that, buddy?” I ask.

“It’s Christmas!” He bursts out from behind the curtain and holds out his arms for a group hug, and Mom and I move in for the crush. Mom looks at me over the top of Bug’s fuzzy head and smiles, her eyes shiny with fresh tears. Behind his back, I lace my fingers through hers and squeeze.

And dear Mr. Napkins, as if he senses the weight of the moment, rolls out from under the chair and crashes into my leg.

“Merry Christmas,” I say. “Now let’s find a way to make this breakfast thing happen.”

“No Bug omelets,” my brother says.

“No. I’m cooking something special for you two.” Mom stands and dusts her hands together. “And after we eat, we’ll go outside and make a snowman.”

Bug cheers, and I dig out the marshmallows for hot chocolate, and even though Mom’s smiling and this is pretty much the best Christmas morning we’ve had since my father left, I can’t ignore the burn in my stomach when I think of New Year’s, the way my mother always expects me to be there whenever she needs me, whenever Bug needs me, no questions asked.

I set the bag of marshmallows on the counter and rinse out our coffee mugs, my heart sinking as I picture another night on the couch with Dick Clark, everyone else laughing and dancing and ringing in the New Year together at Amir’s.

Missing out on dinner with Will is one thing. But I have to find a way to get to that party.

Chapter Fourteen

Cupcakes with Benefits

Vanilla cupcakes topped with whipped peanut butter cream cheese icing, milk chocolate chips, crushed pretzels, and a drizzle of warm caramel

“But youhaveto find a way to come to Toronto,” Dani says. “My parents finally caved and said I could bring you. We’ll have a suite overlooking the city and everything.”

“Don’t rub it in.” I flip the mixer on high and dump in a pile of shaved chocolate, batter churning into a clumpy mess. First time in history I get not one, but two invites for New Year’s, and Mom decides it’s the perfect night to pimp herself out to the local business community. “I’m rockin’ the couch with Bug and Dick Clark.”

Dani pouts and stamps her foot, kindergarten-style. “What about Mrs. Ferris?”

“Mom doesn’t want to impose. Besides, I dropped a small fortune at the gas company this morning. No way I can cover her New Year’s rates—she’s a total extortionist.” I pour another cup of milk into the cupcake bowl and scrape the sides with a rubber spatula, beaters growling against the paste.

“This is so not fair.”

“No kidding. What am I supposed to tell Will about our date? I haven’t even …” Perfect. So not how I wanted to tell her about me and Will, especially after canceling Christmas brunch on her yesterday. I flip off the mixer and tip the beaters upright. “Will asked me out for New Year’s. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t go.”

Dani’s eyebrows shoot up under her corkscrew bangs. She’s gawking at me like I just pulled a cupcake out of … well … somewhere cupcakes aren’t supposed to come out of.

“Smoke break. Let’s go.” She grabs my arm and stomps across the kitchen, dragging me out through the back door.

“When did this happen?” she demands once we’re outside. “How?”

I lean back on the wall and rub my arms so the cold won’t stick. “At his house on Friday.”

“Ah, you mean the private tutoring session formerly known as ladies’ night?”

I shrug. “We were working on his essay and goofing around, and then … well … he kissed me. Like, for real kissed me. And then he asked me to dinner and Amir’s party.”

“He kissed you, and you didn’t tell me? That’s totally withholding information!” Her mouth hangs open, breath freezing white around the gaping hole.

“Relax, Detective Bozeman.” I laugh, but it comes out kind of jagged on account of I’m shivering my ass off in my supershort Hurley Girl getup. “This week was crazy with work and Christmas and everything—”

“You couldn’t call me?” Dani folds her arms over her chest. “Or tell me about it any of the five million times I saw you at work?”

“It was only six days ago! I didn’t want to get into it on the phone. And Trick and Mom are always around here, and we haven’t really hung out alone since—”

“Don’t remind me. Know who I spent ladies’ night with? Frankie Torres. Who is not a lady. And the Friday before that, we ditched plans to go to the game. And before that you had practice, so I didn’t even see you. Something wrong with this picture?”

Guilt bubbles in my stomach, but I swallow it down. She’s more upset that I didn’t tell her about Will two seconds after it happened than she is about an estrogen imbalance in her weekend plans. “You know I have a lot going on right now. I’ve only got five more weeks to train, and the scholarship—”

“Oh, right. How could I forget the all-important scholarship?” Dani throws her arms up, alerting a seagull that’s camped out behind the Dumpster. He screeches at her once and darts back into the shadows.

“It is important. Super-important. We’re talking about my life’s dream!”

She jams her hands in her apron pocket, shoulders clenched tight against the cold. “How come you never talk about it, then? You’re always gushing about Will and Josh and hockey, but you hardly ever talk about figure skating. And when you do, it’s never about how much you love the ice or how excited you are for the competition. All you care about is getting out of here, and that scholarship is a means to an end. You act like Watonka’s a prison sentence.”