Singles competition is over. Somehow, those four words have the ability to take me from on top of the world to crashing down on the ground. Duncan finally spots me in the crowded group of people, and races over to me, concerned.
“What are you doing?” he asks, taking my hand and tugging me towards the locker rooms that have been set up for backstage purposes. “You have to get ready.”
“It’s over, Duncan,” I tell him sadly. “I lost my chance.”
A reporter spots me and steps away from recording the performances on the ice, choosing instead to stick the camera in my face. “Violet Whitney,” she laughs, giddily. “You are Violet Whitney, right?” I nod, knowing that she probably has a major gossip column somewhere in the figure skating world. Some people take this super seriously. “Wow, people said you would be back competing today, but nobody really believed it - especially when you didn’t care to show up for your time slot.”
“I think that’s enough for now,” Duncan says, steering me away from the woman, who is obviously just trying to get a rise out of me. We only make it a few feet before Missy runs up to us.
“Violet, what are you doing?” she demands, grabbing my other arm and helping Duncan drag me to the behind the scenes area. “You have to get ready for your time slot.”
It seems like I’m the only person that understands that when singles competition is over, it’s over. The judges have already finalized their scores, and I missed my shot. “Missy, it’s over,” I try to tell her. She of all people should know how this works, considering how many times she’s been to competitions. “I don’t have a time slot.”
“Oh, yes you do,” she insists, pushing me into a dressing room. Ally is standing inside, and Missy nods to her. “Ally is going to take care of you and get you ready. I’ll explain more when you’re done, but for now just listen to everything that she says. And Ally, make it quick - I have the feeling I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
With that, Missy and Duncan are off in a rush, and Ally pushes me into a chair. She wipes all of the sweat off my face from the hockey game, and blows my hair dry, adding some dry shampoo so it doesn’t look so nasty. She pulls that into a tight bun, the kind that always reminded me of donuts. I glance at her in the mirror while she works, and ask, “So, what exactly is going on?”
“We aren’t going to be finished in time if you don’t stay quiet,” she warns, starting to apply some makeup.
“In time for what?” I demand, truly not understanding what tricks she and Missy have up their sleeves. I swear, Ally is like a younger version of Missy - both always into other people’s business and stirring things up.
Ally shoots me a glare in the mirror that silences me, and I let her go to work. She applies all of the makeup that I was once so used to. The different creams and powders that helped contour my face, the blended shades of eye shadow and expensive mascaras that make your lashes look like they could go on forever. I’ve been so used to just rimming my eyes in black liner and the cheapest drugstore mascara for the past few years that I forgot what makeup can actually do to enhance your features.
YOU ARE READING
On Thin Ice (Editing)
Teen FictionFor years, Violet was known as the Ice Princess - until a terrible accident at Nationals not only brought an end to her figure skating career, but also transformed her into a rebellious, reckless, and rude teenager. Violet swore she would never set...
