Saturday morning starts far too early and far too bright. At least I'm in my own bed. I open one eye to look at my alarm clock. Oh, look, it's the afternoon, shortly past one. I should get out of bed. I really, really should.
I roll on to my side. A drummer starts using my temples as his bass drum. A moan escapes my lips. Its echo comes from below. With an effort, I roll over to see why my bedroom was replaced by a canyon. The floor is still there, though a wave of dizziness through me has me wondering why the ceiling has carpeting. Doesn't explain why Sarah is curled up half-dressed. I'm fairly sure that I wouldn't have slept through an orgy in my room. To be sure, I look down to see what I'm wearing; I don't trust my body's feedback right now. My shirt and jeans are still on though somewhat wrinkled.
I swing my legs out of bed, letting my feet dangle above the rug. The drummer doesn't punish me any further for that, so I try to sit up. There, almost up. That leaves the actual standing up left. Piece of cake. Other than a scratchy throat, I feel better already. The real problem is going to be finding a place to put my feet. Sarah's underwear-clad body is in my way and I don't want to risk waking her up. Some people wake up without too much problem. Others can be down right nasty about it. I don't know which Sarah is.
Sarah groans again. Her eyelids flutter open. "What," she starts, her voice a dry rasp. She lifts her head and clears her throat. "What time . . .?" is all she manages to say.
"Just past one," I tell her.
Her head falls back on the floor. For a moment, it looks like she's gone back to sleep. "Where am I?"
"My room." My brain's still fuzzy.
"Good." Sarah lifts her head up again. "Who are you again?"
"Jackie." Comprehension finally winds through my foggy mind. "Jackie Hart. Trish's roomie."
Sarah blinks several times before she can get her eyes open completely. "Right, the party last night. It was only last night, right?"
"Today's Saturday." That's my hope, at least. I don't think we could have kept the party going for longer than one night.
"Good." Sarah rolls on to her back. "One last thing – where are my clothes?"
Damned good question. I vaguely remember coming into my room last night. I don't remember seeing any half-naked people when I collapsed on my bed. "Where did you leave them?"
Trish's friend sits up. "I was hoping you knew."
Now that Sarah's moved a little, I have a place to stand. I get out of bed and do a quick survey. There's a pair of jeans tossed into the corner of my room. I point them out to Sarah. "Are those yours?"
She scampers to retrieve the clothes. "Yeah, thanks. I don't suppose I could borrow a shirt?"
I walk over to my dresser and grab a t-shirt from the middle drawer. "Here." I hand it over to Sarah. "Until we find your shirt."
"Thanks."
I wait until Sarah has finished dressing before I dare go to the living room. I'm already dreading what the mess will be like. Opening the door, I see two shirtless men cleaning the room. Not a bad way to start the day. One is my neighbour, Jim. The other is one of Trish's current classmates whose name I've forgotten. I won't forget how he looks like now, though.
Jim is the first to see me. "Morning, Jackie."
"Morning. You didn't have to clean up. Trish and I would have gotten to it." I look around the room. "Where is Trish?"
"Don't know," her classmate answers. "I haven't seen her since I woke up."
I head to her bedroom door. Tapping lightly on it, I call in a soft tone, "Trish?" I hear the faint shuffling of bed sheets in response. I knock lightly again, then open the door. "Trish?"
Trish is alone in her room, lying face down in her bed on top of her blankets. She's still wearing the skirt she had on last night, but is topless, her red curls falling on her pale skin. "What?" she groans.
I slip into her room, closing the door behind me. "Trish, you okay?"
"Not so loud, Jackie." She rubs the side of her head with her hand. "Do we have any Tylenol left?"
"In the kitchen. I'll go get it for you."
Trish pushes her self up. "I can get it."
"Not a good idea, Trish. Jim's still here cleaning up."
"So?"
"At least get dressed before coming out of your room."
Trish looks down. "Oh. Yeah, can you get the Tylenol for me, please?"
I smile. "Of course. I'll bring water, too." I back out of the room, closing the door shut once I've left.
The kitchen is a minor disaster. The guys cleaning haven't made it this far yet. Empty beer bottles and cans are strewn over the counter. Paper plates are piled on the stove and in the sink. The smells of barbecued meat and sauces and onions still linger, making me hungry. I move the plates in the sink to a stack on the counter, then run the water while I look for the Tylenol for Trish.
As I'm taking the water and painkillers back to Trish's room, Sarah comes out of mine wearing the shirt I loaned her. She starts searching the living room and dining room for her clothes. I knock on Trish's door before I enter. My roommate is out of bed and has a black t-shirt on. I pass her the Tylenol and the glass. "What happened?"
Trish downs the Tylenol dry. "What do you mean?" She drinks half the water in one gulp.
"I seemed to be overdressed this morning. Your friend Sarah was in my room and I don't know if Jim or the other guy ever left at all."
"Gary wasn't here?" Gary's our other neighbour. The only reason why we weren't shut down by the cops last night is because we invited our neighbours. They're great guys and free food and beer goes a long way in easing potential problems.
"I didn't see him. Why?"
Trish sits back down on her bed. "Last night, after people started going home and after you went to bed, Gary suggested a game of strip poker. There was me, him, Sarah, and Liam." Liam must be the other shirtless guy this morning. "I lost my shirt, literally. Sarah couldn't get a good hand to save her life or clothes. But Gary, he won by losing everything. Who knew he was an exhibitionist?"
Just what I needed to know this soon after waking up, my next door neighbour could cheat to lose at strip poker. I think I'm glad I crashed shortly after one last night. This morning. Whichever. I remember saying goodnight to Steve and walking him to his car to get a breath of fresh air. I remember Vihn and Sarah making out in the corner after shooing them from Trish's room for the second time. I just don't remember getting to my bed. "I'll go make everyone breakfast before they leave."
I return to the kitchen, walkng past Jim and Liam who are now tackling the dining room and Sarah who has found her shoes. Her shirt will turn up somewhere. I clear off the stove and start making western omelettes. The smell of the eggs cooking remind my stomach that it's been too long since I last ate. I'm sure that Trish could hear the growl from my stomach.
Jim peeks into the kitchen just as the eggs are done. I lead him to the dining table and serve the guys first, since they did a lot to get the apartment livable again. Trish joins the group just as I sit down; her hair is tied back in a loose bun. Talk around the table is all gossip about last night, what we can remember of it. Many hookups were made; Sarah and Vihn are meeting later today, Justin hit it off with my friend Lynne, and Gary is meeting with Liam tomorrow.
Once brunch is over, I clean up the plates and say goodbye as everyone leaves. Trish goes to get ready for work tonight, meaning that the kitchen is my mess to clean up. A large garbage bag is enough to deal with the paper plates. Cleaner and elbow grease takes care of the counters. The empty bottles I repack in the cases the beer came in so I can get the deposit back. I'll worry about my room later. Sarah's shirt will show up there eventually.
The thought that cleaning up would be easier if I could just magic away returns. After what I did to my car yesterday, though, I dont want to risk it. I don't want to fling the kitchen, walls and all, into the river because I can't find the right menu selection. I really should chat with Lance to see if he can give me more lessons.
I can always work on my assignments tomorrow. I dry my hands and return to my room. My PC is completely off for some reason; probably related to last night somehow. I power it on and log in at the prompt. After I check my various emails, I launch my instant messaging program and check to see if Lance is online. His icon indicates he is but away from the keyboard. I send a quick message to him just saying hi and asking if he's available, then start reading various news sites. No major new news items are in the headlines, just follow ups from stories from the past week. The usual celebrities make the so-called entertainment news and not for anything they're doing related to their profession.
The IM window beeps, telling me that Lance replied. I read what he sent me, just a hello in return. I ask him if he's busy today or if he can continue with the lesson he started Tuesday. He types back that he is available but not long today. Works for me; Hannah's dinner is this evening and Mom'll kill me if I miss it. Being late for it, though, will only result in minor injuries, so I won't leave the tutoring early. We arrange to meet at the Bridgehead again in an hour. It's a good thing parking downtown is a pain anyway; I'm already having to use the bus to get anywhere until I can get the car looked at.
I sign out of the chat and lock my PC. I can hear Trish taking a shower, so I take my time planning my clothes for today. My jeans are out of the question today. I won't have a chance to change between leaving Lance and meeting the family, especially if I'm taking the bus. I take a quick look outside. Snow is swirling around in the wind. Skirts are also out; I hate freezing my legs and ass off in this weather. I'll have to dig out my winter boots from the front closet, though. My shoes are going to let all the cold and wet right through. My Kodiaks, though, they'll withstand worse. Main reason why I have them.
The water stops running in the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear Trish opening the door. I grab a black blouse from my closet and a red sweater from my dresser, then retrieve a pair of grey slacks and clean underwear. The shower feels great as does putting on clean clothes afterward. I check the time once I leave the bathroom. I still have a half hour to get downtown.
My boots aren't hard to find. I dash out of the apartment and to the bus stop in time to grab the number seven downtown. The trip eats up most of my [buffer] and I arrive at the coffee shop a few minutes late. A quick look around shows no Lance here yet, though, so I join the short line up. I could use another caffeine hit to make sure I'm fully awake.
As I order a green tea, Lance walks into the shop with a file folder tucked under his arm. I ask for a second cup for him, pay, then join him at the table he claimed. "Hi," I say as I sit down.
"Sorry I'm late."
"I just got here, too."
Lance accepts the cup I offer him, then pours the tea for the two of us. "You've thought about it?"
I nod. "Hard to deny reality, even if the reality isn't what I'm expecting. I even tried doing things on my own."
"That was dangerous, Jacqueline."
I hold up my hand to stop the lecture I sense coming. "I know, I know. The first thing I did was to change my mouse back to its original colour. The other thing I tried, I made sure it wouldn't cause too many problems."
Lance looks relieved. "The mouse wasn't so bad. That's the one you changed already, right?" I nod. Lance continues, "What was the other thing you tried?"
"I tried to start my car."
Lance waits for a few moments. "And?"
"It started. Engine came to life."
"Then what?"
"It stayed at full power, even if I took my foot off the gas pedal. It's a good thing I had the car in neutral."
"What happened to the car?"
"I managed to stop the engine the same way I started it, but the by-law officer said that I damaged the car."
"Good work on reversing the effect. We can work on starting cars later. I'm going to have to teach you more basics, though. Simple things." He opens the file folder, revealing several pages of line art. "I know this is going to seem childish, but this exercise helps with fine control. First thing is to just colour the pictures."
I grin. "Just like kindergarten."
"Just like, yes."
"Makes a certain sort of sense to me. I'm starting with the basics again, but instead of learning my colours and numbers and letters, I'm playing with the building blocks of reality. I have to start somewhere."
"I wouldn't say building blocks, yet, Jacqueline."
"Please, call me Jackie."
"All right, Jackie. You're picking up on this faster than I expected."
I shrug. "No use fighting reality, especially when it slaps me around with proof."
"That's one way to put it." He flips through the artwork and pulls out one of a flower. "This should be easy enough. It's like with the bridge at Carleton. Start with the hand gestures."
I follow Lance's lead, then focus on the flower. I select blue from the menu I get in my mind. The entire page turns the colour blue. "Oops."
Lance waves his hand over the page. The blue disappears, leaving the picture as it was. "Careful, Jackie. Try again, but focus only on what you want to turn blue."
I make the same gestures, but this time, I focus on the top petal. The petal and only the petal turns blue. "How is that?"
Lance flips the page over. There is a petal-shaped are of blue on the back. "You're getting it."
"Is there another way to get the menu? I'm finding the gestures cumbersome and a bit of a pain." I shake out my right hand. "I've been warned about carpal tunnel syndrome in my hands and wrist." I had a twinge in my right hand over the summer and had it checked out. Nothing serious yet, but the doctor gave me a warning and several pamphlets to read about carpal tunnel syndrome. Considering that I want to spend my career life working at a keyboard, it's best that I take the warning seriously.
"I'm not sure." Lance shrugs. "No one's ever asked before."
"Can I try something?"
Lance looks around at the crowd of people in the coffee shop. "Not here. I know a place, though, where we can work without risking other people."
"Sure."
Lance and I finish our tea, chatting about non-school and non-magic related things, like the Senators chance of winning the Stanley Cup this hockey season and the state of Canadian politics. Lance is up on the news like I am, though he puts more faith in the local newspapers' web sites than I do. Once we're finished in the Bridgehead, Lance leads me to the parking garage on Laurier Avenue and up to his car. He owns a cute little purple two door Toyota, nothing fancy. He opens the passenger door for me so I can get in. I'm buckled up by the time he gets in on the driver's side of the car.
The Toyota's heater warms the little car before we're out of the garage. The drive takes us south east of the downtown core towards the Herongate area, a mixed-income and mixed-usage area of Ottawa. Warehouses are close to residential areas, and fixed-income housing borders with middle-income homes. Lance drives past the Herongate Mall and to a group of warehouses. He stops at one that's distant from other buildings. "Here we are," he announces as he turns off the engine.
I get out of the car. The warehouse has no features, no sign. No graffiti on it either, that's the only way to tell it apart from the other buildings around it. "You don't keep your programmers here, do you?"
"Are you kidding? The power to the building isn't reliable." Lance is out of the Toyota and unlocking the warehouse door. "This is for training of people like you." He opens the door and lets me go in first.
I enter the building. Lance flicks a light switch behind me. The fluorescent lights hum then flicker on. The entry way is a small square room with plywood walls painted cream. The sparse furnishings include industrial chairs and a small metal table that has seen better days. I unzip my jacket half way; the room is warmer than the outdoors, but not close to room temperature. Lance slips past me to unlock the door leading further inside. "This is just for visitors," he explains. "Anyone who comes here gets checked out here and usually doesn't get any further. The good stuff is past here." He opens the door and turns on a light inside the next room.
Lance ushers me in deeper. I start wondering if coming here was a bad idea. If he tries anything, I'm in a building that regular traffic doesn't go near. I hesitate. "Nothing's going to jump out at me?"
"It's safe, Jackie." Lance goes in first to prove his words.
I follow him inside. The new room is huge, larger than my apartment. The walls look like they've been kept clean and almost gleam white. The lighting isn't as harsh as the fluorescents I just left. Several chairs and couches in various shades of red and orange are scattered around the room, arranged in small groups to people can talk to each other. Coffee tables are in the centre of the seating arrangements. Along one wall, several vending machines stand in a row. On the opposite wall, cupboards separate a stove and a fridge. "How many people like me are there?"
"We're ready to handle a dozen students here, though you'll be the first. We've also used this building for meetings and practice."
I start walking towards the mini-kitchen. "'We'? Who are 'we'?"
"I'll go put some coffee on before I explain. Have a seat. I'll be right with you."
I shrug, sit down in a burgundy easy chair and wait for Lance to finish putting water on to boil. He joins me, sitting on the matching couch across the table from me. "Now, this 'we' thing," I prompt.
"'We' are a small group, I guess coven is the closest word to describe it, of magic users. Remember me telling you that Valor Quest is designed to find new mages?"
I nod. "And you have a few more newbies than just me. I saw their handiwork on the new server."
"They're spread all over the world. There are a few of us searchers in Ottawa, though, thus the 'we'."
"And you're searching for others like me?"
"Yes."
"Why? I mean, sure, some of it is to prevent us untrained magical folk from blowing up cars by accident because we don't know what we're doing, but is that all?"
"No." Lance gets up to take the whistling kettle off the stove. He returns with two mugs and a bowl with packets of creamers and sugar. "All we have right now is instant coffee. We're still not done stocking the place."
I grab two sugars and two creams and add them to my coffee. "I can live with it. So, why?"
"There's a threat that needs to be fought. It's taken some time to locate her, but we need all the trained mages we can get."
"'Her'? You're telling me that one woman is a montrous threat to . . . to who is she a threat again?"
"To everyone. She's been building up power for some time now."
"What is she doing with it?"
"It's not what she's doing with it, it's what she'll do with it."
"You're not going after he because you're afraid of what a woman could do with a little bit of magic."
Lance shakes his head slowly. "It's not just 'a little bit', Jackie. This woman wants to control the world, be the puppet master behind the throne. She's willing to use whatever she can get to further her plans." Lance lowers his voice. "Even use forbidden magic."
All that sounds overdramatic. One person can't control the world. There's too many leaders, too many companies, too many religions "What sort of magic is forbidden?"
"Raising the dead."
I can't help myself. I laugh. "Raise the dead?"
"It's not funny, Jackie."
I try to squelch my laughter. I wind up hiding my mouth with my hands. "Sorry, Lance, but it sounds like a bad movie. This woman creates zombies?"
"Let's focus on your training, okay?"
My laughter finally ends. "Okay, okay. I wanted to try something different. You have the picture still?"
Lance produces the flower art I was working with at the coffee shop. "Right here."
I look down at lonely blue petal. If I've understood Lance's talk about metaphors and magic, I should be able to switch from the gestures he was teaching me to bring up mental menus to typing on an invisible keyboard to do the same thing. "Stop me if this gets out of hand, okay?" I start air typing, treating each petal as a separate object. I just have to avoid overthinking this and getting too lost in real object-oriented programming. Instead, I just designate a variable called Colour and set it to what I hope is the hexidecimal code for red.
"That's working, Jackie," Lance says.
I look at the picture. The petal opposite the one I coloured blue is now green. Not bad, except I wanted the one beside the blue petal and, well, not the colour I chose. "Is that the only thing green?" I ask.
Lance looks underneath the paper at the table. The surface is still the proper brown a wood table should be. The back of the page is still white. "It is."
"I'm going to have to work on accuracy. I was trying to change a different part of the flower red."
"That'll come with practice. Keep working at it."
My theory does work, though. That's progress. I keep working with the flower picture, trying different colours on different petals. After the fourth attempt, I'm able to get the right petal, though still the wrong colour. Maybe the world really works with subtractive colour mixing after all. Now I wish I took art past Grade 9. The codes are something I'll have to work out on paper. Maybe later tonight after Hannah's engagement dinner.
Damn! I almost forgot. "Lance, what time is it?"
He checks his watch. "A little past five. I'll have to call it quits soon."
"I have to call it quits now. I have to be in Kanata five minutes ago."
"Want a ride?"
If he was going to do anything to me, he would have done it by now. He's had the advantage ever since I got in his car. Lance driving me to my parents' place shouldn't result in me being headline news for the next week. "Please. I just need to make a call." I get out my cell phone and phone Mom. She picks up in as the second ring starts. "Hi, Mom? I'm running really late."
I hear Mom's sigh. "Jackie, you were supposed to be here now."
"I know, I know. I'm on my way. Has Hannah and her boy shown up yet?"
"She's picking her parents at the train station. Where are you?"
"On my way. I'm getting a ride from a friend." I smile at Lance. "My car needs to see a mechanic."
"Your Uncle Larry could look at it. He's kept that dinosaur of his running forever."
The snarky part of my brain wants to ask, So why is he taking the train up? Survival wins, though. Mom would wait to smack me for having a smart mouth. Instead, I say, "I have to go, okay? I'll see you soon." I hang up before Mom can draw me into another conversation. As I put the cell phone away, I tell Lance, "I'm set."
He leads me back out to his Toyota. I get inside. "I'm not looking forward to tonight."
"Then why go?" he asks as he starts the car.
"Family. Mom believes in a large family, even though I'm her only kid." I sigh. "She wanted me to be close to my cousins. I like them, but, well, I also like having my own space."
"I completely understand. I was one of five kids. No privacy at all. It's why I love coming out to the warehouse. Lots of space, no one underfoot, and no one is trying to find out what you're up to."
I nod in agreement. "I wouldn't mind finding out what that's like, but that can wait until I graduate."
"You must be close to that."
"I wish. I'm in the co-op program. I get work experience, which is great, but that just means it takes longer to finish my degree. Each year, I'm tempted to just stay on as a full-time employee."
Lance takes a quick look at me to see if I'm serious. "Jackie, you want that degree. It's going to open doors for you."
"I'm not sure of that. IT has too many people in it and moves fast. One semester could put me behind the technology curve."
"What about the places you've already worked at? Will they wait for you to graduate?"
"One said so already, but I'm not sure if I want to go back." Mr. Engagement's office. I'm not sure I could go back without wanting to smack him for what he did.
"Still, Jackie, the opportunities that you could miss as a result." Lance guides the Toyota through a particularly nasty bit of traffic on Baseline Road. "The Valor Quest development team could use you."
"Now, maybe, but in a few years?"
Lance chuckles. "We're not in it for the money. We're aiming to break even. The game's just to help us find people like you, remember? And you'd be perfect, being the bridge between developers and searchers."
"Hey, hey, I still haven't said I'd help fight this dangerous woman of yours. Let me get through tonight's dinner. I know there's going to be a course of 'Let's annoy Jacqueline' in there somewhere. Other worries can wait until after dessert."
"Okay, okay, I'm backing off. You're still willing to be my student?"
I smile. "Of course. The more I know and all that."
"Good, good." Lance merges the car with the traffic on the Queensway. "Don't worry about your cousin, either."
"Someone has to. She's engaged to a man who makes a turnip look good."
"Is he that ugly?"
"That dumb. Hannah's smart. She's getting her Masters in biochemistry and does calculus for fun. Nick, her fiance, needs his fingers to do math."
"She must see something in him."
"Breeding stock, probably."
"You sound a teensy bit jealous."
I glare at Lance. "Why would I be jealous of her? She's earned what she has. I think she's just settling for what she has with him." I fold my arms across my chest. "And he misses half of her jokes. How can she not notice that?"
"Love is blind. It'll occur between the least likely people you could imagine. If they take the time to nourish it, love will bloom."
I would never have pegged Lance as a romantic. "Interesting theory."
"I've seen it in action."
"I've seen it backfire."
"I see."
The exit to my parents' place is next. Lance eases up on the accelerator. The drive is quiet except for me directing him through the maze of crescents that make up the residential part of Kanata. We pull up in front of my parents' home. Lance parks the car right in front of the walkway to the front door. "Here you go."
"Thank, Lance." I smile. "And thanks for listening."
"Any time." He pops the lock for me. "Say, would be interested in dinner and a movie?"
Wow. This must be what being Trish is like. Two guys asking me out two days in a row? "Um, sure. I've got a pile of assignments coming up, so the best time is going to be next Friday. Is that good for you?"
"It is. I'll pick you up."
I get out of the car. "Take care, Lance." I close the door and make my way up to the front door. Hannah's car isn't in the driveway, so I may still be in Mom's good graces tonight. I hear Lance driving away, so I turn to wave to him. Hopefully he can navigate his way back to the highway to get wherever he's going tonight.
The door opens behind me. "Oh, it's you," Mom says.
"Gee, thanks, Mom." I turn around and run over to her to give her a hug. "Nice to see you, too."
"You know what I mean. I heard a car out here."
"That was my ride, Mom. I told you my car needs work."
"Yes, yes. Come on in, Jackie. There's coffee if you want it." Mom leads me inside.
I shrug out of my jacket and take off my shoes once indoors. "Has Hannah called?"
"No. She shouldn't be long, though."
"Trains can be delayed, too, Mom."
"Think I should give her a call?"
"Only if you've made reservations somewhere."
"I think I'll call anyway."
I pat Mom's shoulder, then slip by her. Dad's in the living room watching the hockey game on TV. I flop on the sofa. "Hi, Dad."
Dad turns the volume down on the game. "Hi, sweetie. No problem getting here? Your mom mentioned you having car problems."
"Nothing major. Uncle Larry might look at it. If not, I can survive on ramen until my co-op placement starts." I glance at the game. "Who's winning?"
"Pittsburg's up by two over the Leafs."
I manage not to laugh. Dad's a huge Toronto Maple Leafs fan and has suffered long enough for it. He even wound up raising an Ottawa Senators fan. "I'm sure the Leafs will fight back."
Dad turns off the TV. "Not if I'm watching. How's school going?"
"The usual. Lots of assignments, every test counts, all that. I'm keeping my marks up."
Dad beams with pride. "Good, honey." We hear a car pulling into our driveway. Dad gets up to take a look. I follow him out of curiosity.
Hannah and Nick are already out of the car by the time I get to a window; Aunt Janice and Uncle Larry are working their way out of the back of Hannah's two-door white Saturn sedan. Hannah is looking as wonderful as ever, even just wearing her grubby jeans. I'm going to have a talk about this with Mom later. It might sound petty, but if Hannah can get away with her jeans, why can't I? And mine are cleaner.
Dad opens the door for Hannah and her family and Nick. I move away so that there's space in the small vestibule. Mom's all over them, making sure everyone's safe and warm and ready to go back out. Dad helps Aunt Janice and Uncle Larry with their suitcases; looks like they'll be staying at least the night. Arrangements on who is in which car are figured out. Lucky me is going with Hannah and Nick. I'm putting my mouth in neutral for the ride. I'll complain about Nick, but I'm not going to spoil her happiness, even if Nick makes a trained mouse look good in comparison.
I grab my coat and put on my shoes, then go outside. Dad follows me out to talk to Hannah about where we're going tonight. Nick leans against Hannah's car. The ride arrangements are figured out; I'm going with Hannah and Nick while my aunt and uncle are going with my parents. Why did I have to try starting my car through magic again?
Hannah opens her door so I can get in. I climb into the back seat, ducking my head so I don't bump it on the back window. I much prefer being in the front seat, but Nick's taller than I am and would have to contort himself like a pretzel to fit back here. Hannah pushes her seat into place, pushing my knees back. "You need a bigger car," I remark.
"After the wedding," my cousin says as she gets in. She slams the door shut. "Oh, did anyone tell you?"
"Mom did earlier this week. Congrats, you two." See? I can be perfectly nice and polite, even around Nick. "When's the big day?"
"Next spring. When are you done your exams?"
I run through the months in my head. No exams, though I'll have a co-op term report due next April. "I'll be in a double work term starting January. I might have deadlines from work, but I can let my employer know when I'll need to take a couple of days off."
Hannah starts the Saturn. "That's great, Jackie! How would you feel about being in the bridal party?" She backs out of my parents' driveway to let Dad's Charger out.
My jaw drops. "Me?"
"You'd be one of the bridesmaids. I'll have to get you down to Kingston for fittings, but I can make your appointments for weekends."
"I'd love to, Hannah."
I can see my cousin's scowl in the rearview mirror. "I hear a 'but', Jackie."
"No, no 'but', Hannah. I accept. Thanks!"
"Thanks, Jackie," Nick says. "This will mean a lot to both of us."
"You'll have to find someone to bring, too," Hannah adds. "I know that it's at least half a year away, but you can't be alone this time."
Every wedding in the family since I turned sixteen, I've always been there as just me instead of being half of a couple. "I'll find someone."
"When was the last time you had a date?"
"Hannah." Mom must have put her up to it.
"Just asking, Jackie." Hannah's striving for innocense in her tone, but she misses it by a hair.
"I've got dinner dates coming up next weekend."
Dad has his car out of the driveway and on the street. He leads the way, Hannah following. "Anyone I know?" she asks.
"I doubt it. They work downtown."
"Is it that guy you were seeing over the summer?"
Hannah hasn't heard about Mr. Engagement. "We broke up," I tell her. "Turned out he was seeing someone else already."
"Oh, too bad. I liked him."
I bite my tongue trying not to say, /I've seen your taste in men./ "I'm over him." If I tell myself that enough, I should start believing it.
"Well, make sure you have someone to dance with once the reception is going. You shouldn't have to sit on the sides anymore."
"I'll be there, okay? Everything is going to work out. And how did you manage to get away with wearing your jeans tonight?"
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