“I’ll still see you in class. You know that, right?”
“Now you have to commute to school,” Violet points out.
She’s right, but it’s totally worth it. All that extra time with Blake and the puppy. “How is Puddles?” I ask my brother, releasing Violet.
He grins. “Took a couple of new pictures. Couldn’t help myself.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and shows me the screensaver.
“Awwww,” Violet croons.
Puddles—named by Blake, of course—is rolling on his back on the rug like a frowsy milkmaid in a haystack. I can’t decide who I’ll cuddle first tonight, Blake or the puppy. Maybe both at once. Is that weird?
“Let’s do this.” Jamie picks up my box of textbooks. “Jesus. This is a backbreaker.”
“Sure is!” I say cheerfully. I have almost as many shiny, complicated textbooks as Violet now. I’m not afraid anymore. The work is still hard, but I can tough it out. I grab the duffel and heft my smaller box. “Come on, baby bro. Let’s go beat Dallas!”
Traffic slows us down, unfortunately. By the time we’re speed-walking through the stadium corridors, the game is already in progress.
This time, Jamie and I don’t head for his usual seats. Tonight we’re watching from the WAGS box. I follow my brother up an escalator and down a corridor to a set of shiny turnstiles. Before we reach them, Jamie digs something out of his shirt pocket and hands it to me. I look down at a plastic team ID card with my photo on it.
Jessica Canning, it reads. Role: WAGS (Riley.)
“Omigod!” I yelp. “It’s so official. That’s cuckoo.”
My brother waves his card in front of the turnstile, which springs open for him. “All part of the fun.”
I use my card at the turnstile, too, and then Jamie leads me along a curved corridor lined with fancy wooden doors, each with a corporate plaque beside it. I see boxes for Canada’s two largest banks and an insurance firm. The fourth one simply says: WAGS. Jamie opens the door and ushers me inside.
Katie Hewitt spots us first, waving her tequila bottle in our direction. “You’re late!” she hollers. “Get over here, Cannings.”
I have a sudden thought. “Jamie? Is there going to be hazing?” Since I’ve become a nerd again, my tolerance for alcohol has plummeted. How embarrassing would it be to get plastered and throw up on the WAGS my first night here?
My brother chuckles. “It depends what you mean by hazing. You’ll see.”
“Ladies! Our newest member has arrived. Get the bag.”
I reach Katie, who grabs me into a hug. “Jessica, you were holding out on us, you sneaky Pete! Blake told Eriksson who told Luko who told Estrella that his new girlfriend would be here tonight! And I was all, what new girlfriend? And then I saw they made you an ID card, so we had to hustle with your welcome packet! Why didn’t you say anything the last time we saw you?”
She puts a hand on her hip, and I’m momentarily distracted by a retina-searing flash of brilliance. It’s the four giant diamond rings on her hand.
Focus, Jess. “Well… It’s a new thing.”
Katie smiles at me, her Toronto-shade lipstick perfect again tonight. “Usually the girlfriends practically do a pole vault to get in here. We’re glad to have you, though. His last girlfriend…” She rolls her eyes. “We called her Velcro. I knew it wouldn’t last, and when he came to his senses she did not go quietly.” She shakes her head. “Blake deserves someone as sweet as you are. I could not be happier for the two of you!”
“Thank you. This is, uh, a nice place you’ve got here.” I glance around at the rich wood paneling and the candlelit buffet. I wouldn’t even know I was in a hockey stadium.
“Well, make yourself comfortable. We spend a lot of time in here. Are you ready for your welcome packet?” She doesn’t wait for a response. “Girls!” she yodels. “Let’s give Jess her party favors!”
“Should be fun,” my brother murmurs under his breath.
“Wait—she needs a drink first,” Estrella says.
“Where are my manners?” Katie yelps. “Champagne? Margarita? Beer?”
“I would love a beer,” I tell her, choosing the simplest option.
Two seconds later Estrella is pushing one into my hand. “All right. Let’s tell her what she’s won, Johnny!”
Katie reaches behind a leather wingback chair and emerges with a giant shopping bag. Blake would love it—the bag is coated in Toronto-red glitter. “Ta-da! The welcome packet.”
“Wow.”
She slides one hand into the bag and pulls out a sheaf of papers stapled together on the edge. “This is the WAGS booklet of tips and tricks. It’s your basic How-To-Sneak-Into-A-Hotel-On-The-Road handbook. How to shake off a pesky reporter, that sort of thing.”
“Um, thanks.” I didn’t know that being Blake’s girlfriend would come with a user’s manual, but what’s one more textbook in my life?