“Yeah. Like I said, I bailed early, so I don’t know how it ended up. Can you pass me that flour sifter?” I nod toward the rack of utensils over the sink and she grabs the one I need.

“Were there a lot of other girls there?” she asks. “Like any of the—”

“Can we not talk about the party right now?” I drop the sifter on the counter, louder than I mean to, and she flinches. “Sorry. I’m just really beat, and Mom wants me to make a bunch of extra Sabres cupcakes, and the birthday group ladies are coming for lunch, and I’m trying to break early so I can work on my routine. The competition is in a month, and I’m not even close.” I turn to grab the heavy cream from the small fridge next to the sink. “My triple/triple looks like a wounded seagull, and that’s supposed to be the best move in my program. Not to mention the fact that I just overdosed on cupcake batter.”

I turn back to the counter, but Dani and the silverware pyramid have vanished, the double doors swinging softly in their wake.

Two hours later Trick’s singing Lou Reed over the half-empty grill, Dani’s slicing oranges for plate garnishes, and I’m hand-icing my twenty-third consecutive blue-and-gold Sabres logo when my phone buzzes with a text from Will:

turn on channel 7—I’m on tv in 5 min!

“Your eyes about fell out of your head just then,” Dani says, not hiding the snark in her tone. “That your new man?”

“He’s not my new—forget it. Would you just come here?” I drag her into Mom’s office and flip on the television. The tail end of an Old Spice commercial fades out and Channel 7 News returns, Will’s old yearbook picture plastered up in the corner behind anchorwoman Marietta Swanson.

“Nice,” Dani says. “Now he’s a TV star, too? That’ll do wonders for his ego.”

“Shhh!” I reach over and raise the volume.

“Speaking of unprecedented comebacks,” Marietta says in her buttery newscaster’s voice, “Watonka High’s own varsity hockey team seems to be turning more than a few heads on the ice this season. After a ten-year losing streak, the Watonka Wolves are on a roll. Don Donaldson caught up with the team’s captain at Bluebird Park this morning to ask about the sudden turn of events. Don?”

The screen cuts to a bench behind the jogging path at the park. Will, sporting the fresh glow of physical exertion, smiles into the camera, Don Donaldson cheesing it up next to him in his bright blue Channel 7 parka.

“Thanks, Marietta,” Don says. “I’m here with Will Harper, Watonka High School student and captain of the Wolves varsity hockey team. Will, your team hit the ice this year with a vengeance, shaking off a record-breaking string of bad luck. What can you tell us about this incredible reversal?”

“Some days I can’t believe it myself,” Will says, amping up that megawatt smile for the viewers back home. “I think the guys have just really come together this year.”

“How do you explain the newfound teamwork?”

“Our secret weapon, of course.”

Don chuckles in that robotic newsman way. “Does this secret weapon have a name?”

“Now, Don, you know I can’t give away all our secrets.” Will cocks his head and winks. I don’t think Don realizes that Will is totally making fun of the whole “cool news guy” vibe.

“But I’ll tell you this much,” Will says. “I’ve been studying new techniques, working out on the ice with the guys, calling extra practices whenever I can. I also try to really motivate everyone, push them harder when they think they can’t do it anymore. We haven’t won every game, but we’re working on it. There’s no secret about a little hard work, Don.”

“No, there certainly isn’t, Will.” Don turns back to the camera and smiles. “Well, there it is, folks. Proof that a little hard work can go a long way, especially here in Watonka, New York. Back to you, Marietta.”

“Sounds like the Sabres could use a guy like Will Harper on the team, huh, Don?” Marietta laughs, co-anchors bubbling around her on cue. “Speaking of hitting the ice with a vengeance, let’s check in with Dusty Martin on traffic and weather. Dusty?”

I click off the television. “Speaking of hitting the ice with a vengeance, I better finish those cupcakes.”

Dani follows me back to the prep counter.

“Let me guess,” she says, keeping her voice out of Mom and Trick range. “You thought he’d give you a public thank-you on TV? Better yet, how about a bouquet of roses!”

“It’s not like that,” I whisper. “Will knows my mother doesn’t know about the Wolves stuff, and neither does the coach. He can’t just out me on television. Besides, he did mention me. He always calls me their secret weapon—it’s, like, our joke … thing … whatever.”

“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.