“A few months.”
Not even that long. I don’t want to brag, though, especially in front of people I don’t know very well.
“It took Faith almost a year!” Hope crows. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Faith doesn’t respond as we enter a dark tunnel, her eyes focused on the glow of her iPad.
Oakland spreads out in front of us as we exit back into the light. To the right, rows of metal cranes loom over the Port of Oakland. On the left, hills stretch across the horizon, dotted with houses.
We get off the freeway and arrive at the rink within minutes. I thank Mrs. Park for the ride, then grab my bag out of the trunk after Hope and Faith.
Faith is taller than I remember. She’s always had super-skinny legs, but they used to look like they’d get tangled during jumps and spins. Now she looks like a runway model.
“Ready at three thirty,” Mrs. Park calls. “Church youth group at five tonight.”
Hope and I trail behind Faith as she takes off toward the rink, the wheels of her roller bag shimmering blue and red. Beyond the front door, kids sit on benches and roller bags, lacing up their skates. I can just make out a sign with directions to Oakland’s two sheets of ice, one on the left, the other to the right.
Faith disappears inside. My stomach feels like it’s home to a hundred wriggling bugs. It’s almost like I’m about to compete.
Breathe in, breathe out. Shoulders down.
I hold the door open for Hope, then follow her through it.
Chapter Four
Rinks are like cities, each one unique. This isn’t my first time at the Oakland rink, but now that I’m officially training here, I study everything like I’m seeing it for the first time: the lobby, with its picnic benches and concession stand; two rinks side by side, one for freestyle skaters, one for hockey; a studio on the second floor, complete with mirrored walls above a ballet barre.
I follow Faith and Hope to the studio for thirty minutes of stretching class, then forty-five minutes of off-ice dance. I still feel like dancing after we’re dismissed. It’s hard to tell if I’m more excited about training in Oakland or being done with school for the summer.
Last year in San Francisco, I skated an hour each morning, then Alex dropped me off at Mom’s office. Mom’s boss let me use an empty cubicle to watch videos from my online homeschool classes while Mom worked. Tamar and her mom would pick me up in the afternoon, I’d skate a couple more hours, and then Mom would come get me.
Summer’s different. I can stay at the rink all day and train. No video lectures for three whole months. No homework, either, except taking notes after lessons with Alex.
I sit on a bench across from Hope, who’s perched on the edge of her roller bag. She slips a gel sock over her ankle. It’s just like the ones I wear to prevent blisters. I reach into my bag and pull out my own pair, along with my phone.
Tamar texted this morning, like I’d guessed. She also sent another message during off-ice classes.
7:29 a.m.: Good luck today!!! Plz also tell my parents it’s too early to be fighting
9:40 a.m.: Hi for real this time b/c I went back to sleep lol. Summer is awesome
“Don’t forget to check in with the ice monitor.” I look up from my phone and over at Hope. “If your mom paid already, they can just mark you off on their list.”
I’m glad Hope is explaining this, because Faith isn’t. She finishes lacing her skates between two chattering girls, then pulls out her headphones and iPad in the minutes before the Zamboni finishes.
I put my phone away and lace my skates.
Nearby, a door clicks open. I look up at a familiar face.
“Alex!”
“Hi, kiddo. How’s it going?”
I steal a quick glance at Faith, then shrug.
“Give it a few days.” It’s like Alex can read my mind sometimes. He pats my shoulder, then calls Hope and Faith over.
“You probably already got to know each other a little on the drive over.” He waits until we all nod. Hope’s head bobs the hardest. “What you may not know is, you’re my only Oakland students who commute from San Francisco.”
Hope beams. I glance at Faith, who tilts her head a little.
“This summer has some big changes in store for all of you. Ana’s obviously getting used to a new training environment here, but Faith and Hope just started taking lessons from me, as well. The more you support one another, the better your chances at success this season.”
“Like a team?” Hope asks.
“Exactly.” Alex nods. “Help each other out and cheer one another on. Not only will you develop a strong mindset for competition, it should make practices more fun.”
“Okay!” Hope dances in place, then looks at Faith and me. “We should come up with a name.”
“That’s a great idea.” Alex smiles at her. “But first, go get on the ice and start your warm-up.”
Hope and Faith head toward the rink entrance as Alex turns to me. “You and Faith are at the same level, so it’d be great if you used that to your advantage and learned to train together.”
I watch Faith as she skates away from us. I have no clue why Alex thinks she’d want to train together when she’s hardly said anything to me all morning.
“Do you remember some of the jump exercises I taught you last year, like the split jump into a single toe loop?”
“Yep.” How could I forget when Tamar videoed my millions of attempts? For weeks, I had a stream of flailing arms and hilarious wipeouts on my phone, until I finally figured out the timing.
“Wonderful. Now, there’s someone I want to introduce
