“That’s mostly just Los Angeles.”
“I know that now, yes.” Samuel smiles ruefully. “But ten years ago? I had no idea! I arrived in July, and imagine my surprise—so much fog. Also, no celebrities.”
I can imagine Samuel in shorts, flip-flops, and a T-shirt, even though I’ve only ever seen him in the suit he wears to work. Plus, his bewildered look as he steps off the ferry, shivering in the city’s infamous summer cold. It’s a small one, but I smile.
Mrs. Park’s SUV appears. I take a step toward it, then stop. Maybe Samuel has a preconception about me I can help change.
“Hey, Samuel?”
He looks at me expectantly.
“Can you please call me Ana? Not ‘Miss’ or ‘Marie.’”
“Just Ana?”
I nod.
“Of course… Ana.” He says my name slowly, like he’s trying to get used to something new.
I smile a little bigger. Ana means “I.” Asking people to call me that feels like I’m telling them, “I am me.” If they want to know more, they can ask. I wish I had explained that to Mom instead of snapping at her.
Waving to Samuel, I hop into my usual seat. It’s not until I buckle myself in that I realize I have new company sitting next to me.
“Hey,” Faith says.
“Hi.” I look toward the front seat, but it’s empty. “Does this mean what I think it does?”
Faith breaks out in the biggest grin I’ve ever seen from her. “Hope left last night for the Rising Stars camp in Colorado Springs.”
“So you get to be an assistant to that sound person?”
“Sound designer.” Faith lowers her voice so only I can hear. “I spoke to Mom and Dad and told them how I felt, just like we talked about.”
“That’s awesome,” I whisper back.
I wish I could do the same with Mom, Alex, Tamar, and Hayden.
“Yeah. I’ve only been to two meetings, but I’ve already learned so much. The musical is in September. Would you maybe want to come?”
“Um, yes.” Like she even has to ask! “That’d be cool. Just let me know the dates, and I’ll ask Mom.”
“Okay.” The grin still hasn’t left her face.
As Mrs. Park turns onto a ramp that leads up to the Bay Bridge, Faith glances down at her iPad. I check my phone, even though I doubt I have new messages. Hayden isn’t awake yet, and Tamar’s been pretty quiet.
“Are you competing in Salt Lake City next month?” she asks.
I shake my head. “We’ll probably just focus on training for Regionals.”
“That makes sense. Especially since you already got a medal at your first event.”
“Right…”
My phone buzzes. I reach for it, relieved to have a way out of this conversation.
7:30 a.m.: ARRRG! Mattie woke me up for NO reason
7:31 a.m.: Be glad u don’t have sibs
I reply back fast.
7:31 a.m.: Oh noooo. Boo to Mattie!
I look over at Faith, who’s tapping away on her iPad. “What is that app? Does it make music?”
“It can.” Behind her, the freeway disappears as we exit near the rink. “Some people make music on it, but I use it to edit song files.”
“Edit, like”—I imagine how someone would use it for skating-program music—“shortening a song or something?”
Faith nods. “Or combining pieces together and changing the volume in a specific place.”
The car stops, and we get out. I slide the strap of my duffel up onto my shoulder and wait while she grabs her roller bag. Side by side, we walk upstairs to the yoga studio for off-ice class. She unrolls her yoga mat next to mine. The instructor greets us, and we sink into our first stretch.
By the afternoon, a weight feels like it’s lifted off my shoulders. Competitions use up a lot of energy, so Alex and I always take a break the week after an event. I only have to skate half my sessions today. Alex gives another student an extra lesson during his usual time with me, so I grab my supplies and head off to eat an early lunch.
I open the door to the coaches’ lounge, pausing when I see a familiar face I didn’t expect to see—not today, anyway.
“Corinne?”
She turns. “Well, hello there!”
“Hi.” I tilt my head, wondering why she’s here on a Wednesday. She holds a rolled-up poster in her hands.
“This was going to be a surprise.” She lifts the poster. “But since you’re here, would you like to take a look?”
I don’t know what she means but step closer.
She unrolls it, and—
My jaw drops.
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
Corinne must mistake my shock for excitement as I stare at a picture of myself in my free-skate costume. I’m balanced on my toe picks in my opening pose, the boards of the Los Angeles rink blurred out behind me. The top of the poster has text announcing the skate-school’s upcoming recital.
It stars none other than Ana-Marie Jin, US Juvenile Girls Champion.
“One of my colleagues teaches in Los Angeles. She was at your competition last week and sent me this picture,” Corinne explains. “Normally, we just hand out small flyers to remind everyone about the end-of-session recital, but I thought your performance called for something extra special to ensure as many people attend as possible.”
I look at the seats under the row of skate-school jackets, at the jack-o’-lantern name tag bucket. Anywhere but the poster Corinne holds out so proudly.
“Where will you put this up?” I manage to ask.
“All over. I had several made,” Corinne chirps. My stomach drops like a rock at the thought of Hayden and Cyn seeing it as they enter the rink. “They’ll stay up until the day of the recital.”
I thought I had another week to figure out how to explain things to Hayden. Maybe two.
Now he’ll know I lied to him the moment he
