“Sure.”
Mom looks out toward the ocean for a second, and I reach down to take another bite of my sandwich.
“Is there anything you’d like to know about your father?”
“Um.” I frown and look down at my charm necklace, then back up at Mom. “I don’t know?”
“You seemed interested recently, during the competition last month. I don’t know much about his life anymore, but your grandma Goldie might since she sees him around town from time to time.”
I take the final bite of my sandwich and wonder what knowing more about my dad will accomplish. I’d like him to tell me why he left, why he doesn’t write or video-chat with us, even on holidays. I’d like to know if he’d accept me for who I am, even if I’m not the daughter he thought he had.
I guess there are things I want to know after all.
Eventually.
“I think I want to talk to him, to see what he’s like. Someday. Is it okay to wait until after I’ve figured out my program stuff?”
“Of course.” Mom reaches for her sandwich, tearing off a piece of baguette bread. “If you decide you want to get to know your father, I’ll reach out to him. I want you to feel comfortable coming to me in the future, no matter what.”
More talking, fewer secrets. I like that.
We finish the sandwiches, then grab our stuff. This feels like a perfect end to our day, but I still haven’t told her about the decision I’ve made.
“Mom?” I squint up at her, one hand over my eyes to block the sun. “I haven’t figured out if I want to try different pronouns yet, so you can keep using ‘she’ for now. And it’s okay to call me by my name. But just use Ana, please.”
For me, this is just like getting a new skating program. I learn the choreography, then practice it in segments, only putting it all together once every step feels right. I learned what nonbinary means, so asking to be called just Ana is my first segment. Pronouns will come later.
“Okay.” Mom nods as I hand over her purse. “I’ll do my best to honor that.”
The knot in my stomach loosens, evaporating like fog in the summer sun. My phone vibrates, and the knot threatens to return. As we wait for the streetlight to turn green, I take a quick peek at my phone.
It’s not Hayden.
I read Faith’s message and have to fight the urge to dance in the street.
“What is it, Ana?”
The light turns. “This isn’t for sure yet,” I tell Mom as we cross the street. “But I think I’ve figured out what to do about my free-skate costume.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
By Monday morning, I know what I have to do with my program, except I’ll need help. I wave to Mom and Samuel and head toward the Parks’ SUV, stomach fluttering.
“Welcome back.” Faith watches me buckle in.
“Thanks!” For the first time in weeks, I can’t wait to get to the rink. As Mrs. Park pulls away from the curb, I finally notice that Faith’s lap is empty for the first time this summer. The fluttering stops. Maybe I should’ve texted her before assuming she’d have her iPad. “No music edits today?”
“Nope. I finished last week.”
My heart sinks.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I mean, not really. I was just hoping you could help me cut music at lunch today.” I shake my head. “But no big deal if you don’t have your iPad. I should’ve texted to let you know what I was thinking. You might not even be free for lunch, and that’s fine, too. I’m just being—”
“Ana.” Faith looks amused now. “I brought my iPad with me. It’s in my bag.”
“Oh.”
“And yeah, I’m free for lunch. I can teach you.”
It’s impossible to hold back my grin. This day just got a frajillion times better.
“Do you have anything you want to edit?” Faith asks. “It’s okay if you don’t. I have sample clips.”
I pull out my phone. Still no text from Hayden, but that’s not what I’m looking for right now. “I’ll text them to you.”
As Mrs. Park rolls to a stop in front of the rink, I send Faith two music files. The grin doesn’t leave my face all through stretch class and off-ice dance. After I persuade Alex to focus on jump technique for our morning lesson, promising to run my programs in the afternoon, I’m convinced my smile might be permanent. He hooks me up to the pole harness, and I rotate flip after triple flip with hardly any assistance.
After freestyle, Faith and I unlace our skates on the bench next to each other.
“Is it okay if I go grab some ramen?” she asks. “I didn’t bring lunch today.”
I stand up, swinging my duffel over one shoulder. “Only if I can come with.”
We exit the building side by side. She orders at the ramen restaurant, and we sit in a row of chairs by the front window while we wait.
I turn to her. “Has your mom decided anything about my costume?”
“Oh yeah! She said she’d call your mom this week.” Faith crosses her fingers and I copy her with both hands.
Once her food is ready, we head back down the block. We make a beeline for the hockey rink, climbing the stairs into the stands. Faith pulls out her iPad, then opens the lid on her ramen container. Steam rises between us in a slow spiral.
“What do you want to do with these two clips?” Faith asks as she transfers them from phone to iPad. “Just paste one after the other with some blending?”
“Kind of.” Faith and I haven’t talked much about how uncomfortable my free program makes me, just my costume. “Have you ever seen Sleeping Beauty, the Disney movie?”
“Maybe a long time ago.” She looks at me closely. “Is one of these clips your program music?”
I nod.
“Not a fan?”
“Good
