“That’s the truth,” Faith says, and Hope sticks out her tongue. Her phone chimes. “Mom’s here.” She looks at me. “You’re not coming with us, right?”
I shake my head. “I’m helping at skate-school tonight. It’s just on Tuesday, so everything’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”
“Cool.” Hope jumps up. “Bye, Ana!”
Faith glances back at me, too. “See you.”
I say goodbye, then pull out my phone and realize Mom’s sent me a text, asking how my first choreography lesson went.
I know I should tell her the truth, but I don’t want her to think she made a mistake letting me switch rinks.
5:22 p.m.: Good!! Lots of work on spirals and edges for my new program!
That should do it. I check it over again, so I don’t arrive home to a lecture on proper English spelling and grammar, then tap send.
I head into the coaches’ lounge, and Alex looks up from his salad. “Hey, you.”
I sit beside him, then pull out my own dinner. Mom packed a big container of noodles today. No bao this time around, but I’ll survive. Probably.
“How’d your first lesson with Lydia go?”
I catch Alex’s flub but don’t point out Miss Lydia’s proper title. Correcting him felt like a game yesterday. Today, I don’t feel like playing.
“Practicing in a skirt felt weird. Plus, she made me do Moves in the Field for almost the whole lesson.” I make a face at my noodles. “She didn’t choreograph anything.”
“It sounds like you’re going through a normal adjustment period. My hunch is that Lydia wants to get a sense of how the skirt looks while you skate so she can tweak your steps as needed. Watching your Moves will also help her learn your strengths as a skater. That’s pretty standard for new choreography students.”
I guess that makes sense. It also explains why Faith got to skate to music today. I bet she worked with Miss Lydia last season.
Maybe the lesson wasn’t 100 percent awful.
Except for the skirt. If Miss Lydia wants to see how I move in it, she might be making mental notes for the seamstress she works with. That could mean a dress in my future. Not something I want. The skirt is bad enough. I grab my chopsticks and peel the lid off my food, wondering how to mention this to Alex.
The door opens, and a white woman with shoulder-length blond hair steps into the lounge.
Her face lights up when she sees me. “You must be Ana-Marie.”
“Yep, that’s me.” I glance at Alex. He’s smiling, too.
“I’m Corinne, the skate-school director. We’re so excited you’ll be helping out this semester.”
If Corinne is the director, that means she’s a big reason I get free ice-time. I balance my lunch container on my lap and reach out to shake her hand.
“Follow me, sweetheart. I’ve got some stuff to go over with you before classes start.”
Corinne waves me over to a tall table with cubbies above it. I stow my container under my seat, then move to join her. The table reaches my chest, even on tiptoes.
“Our classes each have one instructor and sometimes an assistant like you,” Corinne explains. “For the most part, you’ll be assisting Alex. Everyone in tonight’s classes should be around your age since we hold group lessons for younger kids on a different day.”
I nod to let her know I’m listening.
“We’re lucky that someone so accomplished is giving back to our community. I also hope you might consider performing in our end-of-session recital this August.”
She studies a row of coats hanging on a nearby wall. “This might be a little large for you, but it’s the smallest we have.” She pulls a jacket off a wall peg and passes it to me. The rink’s logo is sewn on the back. “No need to decide about the recital now, of course, but we would be honored if you’d give it some thought.”
I glance from Corinne to the jacket. They’re giving me free ice-time in exchange for a few hours of my help. I’ll be saving Mom twelve hundred dollars a month, and all they want is for me to skate in a recital?
“I don’t need to think about it,” I tell her. “I’ll totally do the recital. And anything else you need help with.”
Corinne beams. “Wonderful, sweetie. Now, some more things you should know.” She reaches into a plastic jack-o’-lantern bowl at the center of the table and pulls out a glossy rectangle. “It’ll be your responsibility to help students who’re struggling to keep up with the rest of their class. Wear this in a visible place, so everyone can learn your name.”
She hands me the tag. It has my name etched out in big, bold letters.
I slip my arms into the oversize coat, then pin on my tag as the door opens again. Corinne announces the name of each instructor as they file in.
There’s Taj and Kaitlyn, Etsuko and Victor-who-goes-by-Vic. Nicole arrives on her own a minute later.
Corinne sits and starts lacing up. I return to my chair and take a big slurp of noodles before grabbing my skates.
The door flies open, and a woman rushes in. Her hair is short and brown, skin a little darker than mine. “Oh man, bridge traffic was intense.” She grabs an instructor jacket from the wall and plops into the seat next to me. Her eyes scan my name tag. “Hey, Ana-Marie! I’m Jen. It’s super nice to meet you.” She unzips her bag as she talks. “We’re all stoked you’ll be helping out.”
Around the room, a couple of instructors nod as Jen’s eyes fall on them.
“Hi,” I reply back. I glance at Alex, then back to Jen. She looks familiar, even though we just met. “Alex said you’re driving me home tonight?”
“That’s right. I even had a nice chat with your mom last week.” Jen grins. “She officially knows I’m not a child abductor.”
Alex rolls his eyes, and I laugh.
Jen pulls two gel socks and one scuffed-up skate out of
