I lift my arms, just the way Miss Lydia taught, as the first quiet notes of my music filter down from the speakers. It should be easier to feel the music and become the princess in this costume.
But that’s the problem. I glide down the ice for my salchow, thinking about how much I look like someone I’m not.
I turn fast, swing through, and launch, but my timing is rushed. Both feet hit the ice at once, blades skidding as I fight to stay upright.
Alex watches from the boards. I know I need to keep going. You don’t get a do-over at a competition.
I steady my breaths and start my footwork. More mistakes. A stumble. Shallow edges. Twizzles scraped and spun in place instead of traveling across the ice.
The music cuts out before my next jump.
Despite the cold, my face burns.
Alex doesn’t look mad as I glide back to him, just thoughtful. “You seem to be getting stuck in your head today, Bean.”
All summer, actually.
I shrug and look down. My costume’s crystals reflect the ceiling lights like they’re mocking me. “Should I start over?”
“Yes, but I want to try something different and have you skate without the music.”
I look up. “No music?”
Alex nods. “You’re getting used to this program, plus performing in your new costume, so let’s break it down and focus on one thing at a time. Run it all the way through. Don’t stop, no matter what happens.”
I return to my opening pose as another coach takes over the music box. It must look strange for me to be wearing this glittery dress with my arms lifted gracefully as the staccato beats of a different skater’s music fill the rink.
I glide toward one end of the ice for my triple salchow. Taking my time, I rotate fast and strong. No two-foot flub this time around. I’m midway through my footwork when I finally start feeling the music. The only problem? It’s someone else’s. My rhythm is all wrong, movements sharp instead of soft.
At least I’m centering my spins and landing my jumps.
I finish my final spin, hold the ending pose, and wait for the usual rush of excitement that comes after skating a clean program.
Nothing.
So what if I can nail everything without music? The judges won’t be impressed.
The Zamboni appears at one side of the rink. Faith, Hope, and the other skaters head for the exit as I glide back to Alex.
“I knew you had it in you.” He pats my back. “You look like the full package with that costume, too. A real Intermediate skater.”
“Really?” I’m able to hide my frown but there’s no question I sound doubtful.
“It’s coming along.” Alex gives me an encouraging smile. “Now go ahead and enjoy your lunch.”
I step off the ice, wondering if Alex is right. Maybe I’m overthinking things, or getting stuck in my head. He seemed to believe skating a clean run-through should be something to celebrate, even without music.
I dig out my phone on the way to the bathroom. Still nothing from Tamar. I’ll call her over lunch.
My whole body seems to breathe a sigh of relief once I’m back in my leggings. As I head toward the coaches’ lounge, my phone finally buzzes.
It’s Hayden.
11:35 a.m.: Sorry ur tired
11:36 a.m.: If it makes u feel better, M and E wake up super early
11:36 a.m.: And they’re LOUD
I smile for the first time today. After last Saturday, I can totally imagine them making tons of noise. Especially Mattie.
Hayden sends another text.
11:37 a.m.: Hey do u want to hang out again next Saturday?
Yes, I text back. Totally.
Another Hayden text comes in fast.
11:38 a.m.: Cool!
11:38 a.m.: I was thinking u could come to my house
11:38 a.m.: Call when u can and we’ll figure out what time works best
I head to the second rink, away from the chatter in the lobby. The lights are dim. No hockey players are around yet, but a voice floats down from the stands.
“… first two weeks in August. Same as the Rising Stars camp. I can’t do both.”
It’s Faith. There’s a beat of silence, followed by a heavy sigh.
“I already asked, but I’ll keep trying. I want to do the musical, but Mom thinks skating’s more important.”
I had no idea Faith acts. Or sings, even. No wonder she’s so good at performing on ice.
I step out into the open.
“I’ll call you back later.” Faith slips the phone into her coat and eyes me cautiously. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I climb a couple of steps. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was up here.”
“I was actually just leaving for lunch.” Faith takes a few steps down. We pass each other, and that should be it. She’ll go eat while I call Hayden.
Except she looks upset, and I can definitely relate after my disastrous practice.
I whirl around. “Is everything okay?”
She pauses at the bottom step and nods. It looks like she’s about to say something, but I rush on. “It’s just, I heard you and your mom arguing in the car.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Her shoulders slump. “It’s not a huge deal, though.”
I inch closer. “It kind of sounded like one.”
“I got asked to help out with my church’s musical. The sound designer said I could be her assistant.”
“That’d be cool.”
“Yeah.” She looks down. “Except I can’t do it. Hope and I always go to a skating camp in August. I don’t know why I bothered to even ask Mom if I could skip it.”
I’ve never been to a training camp, but I know that skaters who attend can get lessons from top US coaches. They also cost thousands of dollars.
“Oh.” I hop down another few steps, until I’m just two above her. “The camp sounds great, too, though.”
“It is.” But she sighs again. “Do you ever just…”
“What?”
“Just hate skating, I guess. Like, not all the time, but…”
I think back on my program run-through, about how I felt in my new costume. How I can usually land all my jumps, no
