I study the green sleeveless dress on the screen. It cinches at the waist, then widens all the way to its knee-length hem. “It looks a little old?”
“You mean vintage.” Tamar takes a bite of her sandwich. “Kell’s really into fashion from the forties and fifties, so I thought I’d see if I could find anything online that would make a good bat mitzvah dress. It’s cute, right?”
It takes me a second to remember that Kell is Tamar’s new coach.
“It’s nice. The color would look good with your hair.”
“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Tamar’s expression turns thoughtful. She lays her arm across my shoulders. “Any idea what you’ll wear to your ceremony?”
I ball up a napkin in my hands, eyeing a pair of teenagers playing Frisbee nearby.
“Not yet.”
“But not a dress.”
“Not a dress,” I echo.
“Figured.” Tamar laughs, rocking me side to side. “You are such a tomboy sometimes.”
My shoulders tense. Suddenly, I remember what she said the last time I was at her house: Everyone already knows what they are when they’re born. I wonder what she’d think about Hayden changing his name and pronouns.
I look away, toward two trucks that have parked on the clearing’s edge. Their drivers unload large stereo speakers with the help of nearby picnickers. My fingers twitch. I rip my napkin into strips.
“The ceremony’s not for months. I’ll decide later.” My words are sharp, reminding me of Miss Lydia.
Our final lesson together was on Tuesday. No more borrowed skirts or on-ice lectures. I should feel like celebrating. But her parting advice continues to stump me:
Feel the music. Become the princess.
What does she want me to do, sprout a crown? Order people around?
Tamar drops her arm off my shoulders. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just annoyed with my new program.”
“I still don’t get what the big deal is. Sleeping Beauty might be a little old-school, but the music’s not that horrible. Plus, the choreography sounds amazing.”
Tamar’s missing the point. Boring music isn’t my only problem. I tuck my knees up under me. “I’m still not sure it’s right for me.”
“Then tell your mom. Or Alex.”
I don’t know how that would fix anything. My first competition is in four weeks. There’s hardly time to get comfortable with my current program. Asking Alex to choreograph a new one is out of the question, especially if I want to score well enough to skip Regionals. “We’ll see.”
Tamar would probably side with Alex and Mom about wanting me to focus on my performances, not the scores. But I’m thinking bigger. Free ice is just the beginning. I want to save Mom as much money as I can.
Plus, Sectionals isn’t until November. If I get to skip Regionals, I’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to tell Mom I don’t like my program, then ask Alex to choreograph a new one.
Tamar sets her phone in her lap. “I seriously wish not liking my program was all I had to deal with. My parents have been fighting a ton this summer. Like, nonstop.”
“Oh no. About what?”
“Nothing. Everything. Who even knows?” She shrugs. “Mom gets mad when Dad doesn’t come home from work on time because they arrive late to her events. Then Dad tells her his job is more important than her dumb parties, which just makes things worse. I don’t even know what they were arguing about last week, but Pix and Ponch’s walker canceled and they didn’t remember to call a backup for three days, even after I reminded them, like, ten times.”
“I remember that.” I let my shoulder bump hers. If my dad ever fought with Mom, I was too young to have any memory of it. “That must be really awkward for you.”
“So awkward.” Tamar sighs. “I’m trying to ignore them and just focus on skating, but Kell signed me up to test my Intermediate Moves next month, so I’ve also got that to stress about.”
“Do you need to pass it to be on your synchro team next season?”
“I do if the coaches decide to move us up a level.” Tamar fiddles with the corner of the beach blanket. “I just want to get it over with. The judges totally freak me out at tests. They’re so… judgy, you know?”
I lean back onto my elbows, remembering the trouble she had on her twizzles last week. “Could I maybe help?”
“Yes, please!” Tamar’s expression brightens instantly. “When can we skate together?”
I pull up the calendar app on my phone. “Mom wants me in bed pretty early during the week. Plus I’ve got skate-school on Tuesdays. I’m actually not sure if I can make any of your rink’s freestyle sessions.”
Tamar’s face crumbles.
“But! You could video your Moves. Then we could watch the clips and figure it out together.”
“That’s perfect! And then a movie? Kell said you’re not really living until you see A League of Their Own. I think it’s about girls playing baseball in the 1940s.”
“That sounds awesome.”
“See, this? Totally why we’re friends.” Tamar points at herself, then me. “That, and people are impressed that my BFF is the national Juvenile champion.”
I snort.
“Soon to be national Intermediate, um… team training camp attendee?” Tamar tilts her head. “Is attendee even a word?”
I roll my eyes at her. “Not unless I learn how to skate my program a whole lot better. The steps are totally perfect for someone graceful like Faith Park. Me? Not so much.”
Tamar goes still beside me. “Are you and Faith friends now?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe?” I squint at Tamar through the sun. “She invited me to lunch last week, but I didn’t go.”
“Oh.” Tamar looks down at her phone.
Did I say something wrong? I try to catch Tamar’s gaze but she avoids my eyes.
“Skate-school’s keeping me busy, too,” I offer, hoping a change of topics will help. “I assisted Alex with his classes on the first day and worked with a different coach this week.”
“Mm.” Tamar’s eyes stay down. She opens a music app on her phone and plays
