I stash my backpack under the table and take a seat next to him. “I … don’t know. I was skating on the runoff, then I felt like … like I wanted to go … away. Something was daring me, and I couldn’t get far enough. Crazy, right? It’s like I was trying to skate to Canada.”
The fire reflects in his eyes, and in the soft orange glow of the flames, he looks older. Serious. “Hudson—”
“Thanks for … you know. Out there. What you did.” I shudder when I think about it again, imagining the rescue squad fishing me out, blue and gone. Josh explaining to my mom what happened. That he tried, but couldn’t save me …
The tears creep back into my eyes but I force them away. “Hungry?” I hop off the table and grab my bag. “We can have a two-course lunch, assuming you actually prefer cupcakes and granola bars to insects.”
“It’s an emergency,” he says. “I’ll make do. But can I ask you a question?”
“As long as it’s not about eating bugs.”
Josh slides off the table and finds some more cardboard for the fire, dusting his hands together over the popping flames. “You doing okay? I mean, are you warm enough?” Pop pop pop.
“I’m fine. Still kind of freaked out, but I’m warm.” I resume my place on the table and dig out the goodies. “The fire was a good idea.”
“Good.” He sits next to me and takes a cupcake from the Tupperware balanced on my lap, our legs touching. Pop.
“Yeah.” Pop pop … pop.
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t freezing.”
“I’m okay.” Pop. “It’s comfortable.”
“Good,” he says.
“Not too hot, not too—”
“What’s going on with you and Harper?”
POP!
“Nothing.” I keep my eyes fixed on the flames.
“So you guys are just … hanging out?”
W.W.H.D.? Hester? Any ideas? No?
“Not exactly,” I say. Come on, Hud. Now’s your chance. Tell him. “We’re not … we kind of … it’s not like he was my boyfriend or anything.” I unwrap my cupcake and toss the paper into the fire, wishing I could channel the fearless determination I felt on the ice the moment I heard his voice. The second before the ice cracked and everything changed. “Anyway, what about you? How’s, um, Abby? Angie? What’s her name?”
Oh, Hudson. Your suavity is an example to all.
“Abby?” Josh’s forehead crinkles. “She’s … she’s good.”
“She doesn’t go to Watonka High, right? How did you guys meet?”
“I see you didn’t get the memo.” Josh laughs, and then his face turns serious. He looks at me a moment longer, like he’s trying to decide how to break the girlfriend news, or how much of his secret relationship he wants to reveal.
He takes a deep breath and rubs his head. “Okay, here’s the story. Abby and I go way back. We basically met in the hospital when we were born.”
“You’ve known this girl your entire life? Like, literally?” That’s flat-out no competition right there. Born on the same day, in the same hospital? They’re practically soul mates.
“Yep.”
“Whoa. So do you … does she … um …”
“Abby’s my sister, Hudson. We’re twins.”
“Oh thank God! I mean, thank God … that you … have a sister … what a special … um … napkin?” I pass it over and jam half a cupcake in my mouth to prevent the release of any more stupidity. A sister? He has a sister? And all this time, I thought she was his girlfriend? How hard did I hit my head that first day on the ice?
I meet his eyes and he smiles, my stomach launching into its own triple/triple combo.
“It’s kind of complicated.” Josh downs the rest of his cupcake and tosses the paper into the fire. “I don’t talk about it much. I guess I figured Will told you or something.”
I shake my head.
“Ever seen Rain Man?”
“Mmm-hmm.” And that’s the most intelligent thing I’ve said all morning.
“It’s kind of like that with my sister. She’s, like, off the charts brilliant, but she’s super-particular about order and rules. My mom homeschools her. Abby likes it, but she gets a little stir-crazy. That’s why she calls me all the time. It’s never urgent—just stuff like what happened on General Hospital or which neighbor she saw taking out the trash in their bathrobe. But if I don’t answer right away, she freaks. Half the time I’m just calming her down, reassuring her I’ll be home later. It gets intense. My mom had to get permission from the school so I could keep my phone on during class. Thing is, she’d probably be better off in a place with full-time care, where they could work with her one-on-one. But we don’t want to do that to her. She’s ours, you know?”
I think about Bug, how I dumped him off with Mrs. Ferris this morning, how he hugged me and waved and pushed up his glasses without a word of protest. I can’t picture him not being Bug, not being okay, not being home with us.
“How do you … I mean, do you guys take her out on weekends or whatever? Do other stuff? Or does she have to stay at home?”
“We go out sometimes. She does okay—depends on the situation. Hockey games are too much for her—she doesn’t like the goal buzzer. But she’s hung out with me at Amir’s a few times. She does better when it’s just a few people. Oh, and she doesn’t like Will. Too much talking freaks her out.”
I laugh. “I don’t blame her. Sounds like you guys are close, though. That’s cool.”
“Abby’s seriously my best friend.” Josh smiles. “I tell her pretty much everything. We talk about hockey and school and … well, whatever. Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what were you gonna say?”
Josh’s face reddens, the tips of his ears as bright as the flames. He stands to stoke the fire with a loose hunk of metal, his back to me. “Okay, so I told her about you, right? How you helped the team, how we’ve been skating a few times, even about the cupcakes. And now she won’t leave it alone. ‘How’s Hudson, where’s Hudson, are you skating today, what does she look like, where does she live, how many cupcakes can she bake in one hour, what’s her favorite color, when can I meet her—’”
“Blake Street. My record is two forty in an hour, but they weren’t very good. Purple.” I take a deep, silent breath as the fire sparks. “And I’d be honored to meet her.”
Josh drops the makeshift fire poker and crosses the space between us in two steps, hands gripping my arms. I look up to meet his eyes, serious and determined and the rarest, most intense colors I’ve ever seen. It’s like I’m on the lake again, the rest of the world fuzzing out around the edges, the beauty of his eyes the only thing left. I lean closer, our gaze unbroken, fire crackling and warming the air around us. He swallows and then he’s there, right before me. My heart slams into my ribs and my neck goes hot and I close my eyes just as our lips brush and my breath catches and …
And Josh pulls away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hands sliding down my arms. “Sh—I’m so sorry, Hudson. I didn’t mean … you and Will … I was so … not … thinking.” He rubs his head, his eyes everywhere but on my face.
“Josh, it’s okay, I’m not—”
“Can we just … can we pretend that didn’t happen?” He crosses to the other side of the fire and slumps in an old office chair, the swivel kind with wheels and an adjustable back, and presses his fists into his thighs.
Across the room, the fire is strong between us as he stares at the dusty, broken floor, and my heart rages against his words. After weeks of mixed signals and crossed wires, he finally kissed me—tried to, anyway. And now he wants to pretend it didn’t happen?
The wind pelts the walls with a blast of wet ice and his foot bounces on the ground, chair twisting back and forth.