I could switch subjects again, ask about synchro practices or where she’ll be going on vacation this year. I look around the clearing instead. To my left, the stereo speakers are almost set up. On the other end, a group of teenage boys lies on their backs, shirts off and hands behind their necks.
I wonder if Hayden is allowed to do that. I don’t need to wear a bra yet, but there’s no way I could take my shirt off in public without someone saying something.
“I met a boy at skate-school, too.…” I trail off. My thoughts about Hayden are so jumbled.
He’s a boy—but at one point, people saw him differently. That means sometime in the past Hayden was still figuring things out.
“Earth to Ana.” Tamar pokes me in the side.
“Sorry.” I drag my gaze back to her. “What’d you just say?”
“It was what you said.”
I stare at Tamar.
“Something about a boy.”
“Oh! Yeah. I met him in the skate-school class I helped out with this week.”
“And?”
Tamar’s my best friend. But I’m still not sure how to explain what I’ve been feeling.
“I was in a hurry and grabbed Alex’s name tag instead of mine. But I didn’t notice until this boy introduced me to his sister after class. I’m pretty sure he thought I was also a boy.”
“Wow, awkward! He must’ve been hecka embarrassed.”
“Yeah.” I look back across the clearing, avoiding her gaze.
Tamar twists onto her side, phone forgotten. “Was he cute?”
“Huh?”
“OMG, Ana, keep up. The skate-school boy: cute or no?”
“Oh, um. I don’t know.” I press my lips together, thinking. “I guess?”
“So oblivious.” Tamar shakes her head. “Okay, let’s start with the easy stuff. What does he look like?”
“Messy blond hair. Tall-ish, kind of?”
“That’s a start. Eye color?”
For real?
“I don’t know! I was just trying to help him with one-foot glides.”
“All right,” Tamar says. “I know it’s summer, but I’m giving you homework: Pay more attention next week and report back with your findings. Take a pic if you can sneak one in.”
She has to be joking on that last one, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.
A song blasts out of the speakers across the clearing, louder than the music on Tamar’s phone. She pauses her app, then hops up and turns toward our moms.
“Ana and I are gonna go dance.”
I shield my eyes with one hand, looking up at Tamar. “We are?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ma’am? I make a face. “What if I don’t want to?”
“Then you’d be disappointing your very best friend. Pleeeease?”
People already surround the speakers, swaying in time with the music. Some wave brightly colored flags. At least we won’t be the only ones dancing.
“Okay, fine.”
Along the way, someone offers Tamar a small rainbow flag. She asks for another and passes it to me. We stop near the edge of the crowd, and a kaleidoscope of colors fills my vision as a light wind tugs at flags of all colors, shapes, and sizes.
Tamar twirls in front of me. I pause at first, remembering all of Miss Lydia’s critiques. Tilting my chin toward the sky, I let the wind tickle my face.
Then I copy Tamar, lifting my flag as I twirl faster and faster.
Next week will be better. I’ll talk to Hayden at skate-school and tell him I’m Ana, and we’ll laugh about his mistake. Maybe I’ll even get used to my free program.
Right now, I twist and turn, letting the music take over my movements. Tamar bumps into me, and we giggle, swaying together with arms wrapped around each other. For now, nothing exists outside this clearing.
JULY
Chapter Twelve
Before I can set the record straight with Hayden tonight, I have to get through a full day of training.
Alex signals me over to the music box at the start of our afternoon ice session. “Your first event is in Los Angeles at the end of the month. Let’s spend this lesson focusing on your program.”
I ran my short program yesterday, so I know he’s talking about my free skate. I fiddle with the zipper on my warm-up jacket as I skate to the middle of the rink.
Alex gives me a thumbs-up. I rise to my toe picks, arms extended, hoping this position looks less awkward than it feels.
It could be worse—I could be wearing a skirt.
Focus!
My short program is familiar after skating it last season. My free skate is different—I still have to think about each step. Instead of bold statements, my movements feel like nervous questions.
I hear the fourth note first, and teeter on my toe picks as Alex turns up the volume. Pushing hard to catch up with the music, I feel less regal by the second as I prepare for my triple salchow.
Turn, bend… I kick my free leg through too soon, taking off tilted. There’s nothing I can do except flip forward to keep from falling.
“Shake it off,” Alex calls. “Don’t stop.”
I suck in a shuddery breath and launch into my first spin. My shoulders are tight, and I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until the corners of my eyes sparkle with stars.
I dash off to start my footwork but skid to a stop. I’m on the wrong side of the rink!
It’s only when I whirl around to get back on track that I realize I haven’t performed a single arm movement.
Too late now.
My program turns into a to-do list of spins and jumps that I check off in the last ninety seconds. Jump combo, jump, another jump, final jump sequence, combo spin—DONE.
I strike a sharp end pose, arm up like I’m saluting someone. So much for portraying a princess. I feel like a soldier returning from war.
Hands on my hips, I look down as I catch my breath.
“That was an unusual interpretation of your music.” Alex smiles at me, a look I don’t return. He skates over and lays a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, I know that wasn’t your best, but this program is still new. You’ll get better
