Page 32 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

I nod.

“Yeah. She’s got a rap sheet, I guess. And technically, she’s out on parole. Nobody wants to turn in a woman in her seventies, so she just keeps on rolling with her grift. It’s kind of genius. I mean, for theft.”

Mazy chuckles, then unzips her crossbody bag and pulls out her wallet to confirm that her cash and cards are still inside.

“How was Noah today?” I finally ask.

She zips her purse back up and lifts her chin, giving me a coy smirk.

“Frankie, staring at that man in a Santa suit all day, made all of the unwanted advances, and apparently mugging attempts, worth it. He is aging so fine. And I didn’t realize how big his heart is. I mean, there was a kid who just lost his dog, and Noah spent extra time talking to him about it, showing him pictures of his old dog, whichhe still keeps on his phone!Gah! He’s just so?—”

“We’re hooking up.” I cut her off before she professes her love for him because, one, hearing all this is making me so jealous, and two, I am dying to tell someone.

She’s frozen, her mouth still half open, ready to finish her sentence, which likely abruptly changed course. I cover my face with my hands and peek through my fingers, and she finally shifts her gaze to me.

“You bitch,” she says with a smirk.

“I know!” I force my fingers together again, blocking my view. My friend tugs my hands away after taking a seat on my bed.

“You broke the germ bubble,” I say, drawing a circle in the air.

She swats at my hand.

“Frankie, there is no bubble when you have news like this. I’ll get sick just to hear the details. I need to know. Tell me everything. Oh, my God, you said hooking up. So that means you’ve seen . . .”

I nod and cover my face again. She pulls my hands away a second time.

“Big?”

I nod and widen my eyes.

“And how many times?”

I glance up and to the side, literally counting.

“Oh, my God, you have to think about it?”

I giggle and come back to her gaze. “I want to say three, but maybe one doesn’t count because I—” I suck in my bottom lip.

“Shut up!” She pushes me, and I fall back into my pillows.

She stares at me as our laughter subsides, but her smile sticks around.

“I’m so jealous, but I know what this means for you. I’ve always known that Noah is special to you. And you’re special to him. I’ve seen it since high school.”

“You have?” My brow pinches. I didn’t see it. Not then, at least.

She nods as she gets up from my bed.

“We all saw it. Our friend group? When you weren’t around, we called youthat lucky bitch.But honestly? He’s the lucky one.”

“Aww,” I utter, my eyebrows denting with the sudden need to let my eyes well up with tears.

“Now, I’d love to stick around and eat ice cream and French fries with you like we used to on sick days, but I need to go to my actual job now, the one that gives me money so I can buy Christmas presents . . . for myself.”

I laugh at her honesty and hold up heart hands as she blows me a kiss and leaves my room. I check my phone for a text from Noah, but he still hasn’t answered to let me know how the day went for him. We got a lot of attention for the food drive yesterday, and Norris got a reporter from our local paper to come out and do a story on it. While I hope that food donations come pouring in, I also hope that the generosity spills over to the photo booth, too. I’m worried we’ll have to scale down the holiday meal.

I swish my spoon around the remaining soup in the mug on my nightstand and taste a spoonful to see how cold it’s gotten. It’s lukewarm, which is too luke for my taste, so I push the mug away, hoping my mom will pass by and take it to the kitchen. It’s been a while since I’ve been sick at home. I forgot how nice it is to be babied.

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