After the loss of her father, the trajectory of Reese's entire life is knocked down, shattered and destroyed. Seems to her like the silver lining between wanting to live or die was her devotion to skating. An art she had mastered with her father bef...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
3 weeks of practise. 3 weeks of school. 3 weeks of suffering. I don't think the serotonin reuptake inhibitors work on me anymore. I'm getting more angsty, apprehensive.
Divisionals is only 3 days away, Sylvie has already decided that I'd perform my old choreo because the jazz choreo was for Regionals and only Regionals.
It was a chilly Saturday evening, I don't have practice on Saturdays but despite that I'm at the rink, triple lutz-ing my ass crack off in hopes of snapping my fragile bones.
I tell myself I'll take a break but I never do, it's impulsive now.
The strange custodian boy had been sweeping up and down the seating isles while occasionally watching me fall on my arse. I'm sure he found my failure very amusing, even if he didn't show it.
He'd been gone for some minutes and I found myself glancing around for his shaggy hair poking through a row of seats. He returned a while later riding a zamboni. Before cleaning the ice he just kind of waited idly by the edge, like he was waiting for me to leave.
I finally got the memo and slid off the ice so he could do his job and hopefully go home. It took him forever to ride the zamboni across the surface area of the rink and I was growing impatient.
It almost seemed like he was being sluggish to spite me.
Until finally he rode the zamboni off the rink and I glided back on in a heartbeat. 3 toe loops later and he returned to the rink, and watched me from behind the glass barrier.
Seriously, what did I have to do to get rid of this guy?
He wasted no time in pulling out a small bag of sour patch kids in which the opening of the wrapper disrupted my session.
I visibly cringed as I listened to him smack and chew 30 feet away.
I figured I'd attempt one last triple lutz before calling it a day. I strided and picked up speed as I slid along the edge of the ice, preparing myself for the spin. I pushed myself forward but I must've misplaced my left foot because I ended up slamming into the barrier pretty hard.
For the first few seconds I didn't move. All I could think about was how I couldn't afford any ankle injuries with divisionals so close by.
Instead of helping myself up, I stayed in my crumpled up position and cried. I felt my shoulders shake with every heave and my frozen hands trembled as they frantically tried to wipe away my pathetic tears.
At least I could finally cry again.
For a long while, my sobs were the only audible thing in the building. I listened to them bounce and echo off the walls. The strange boy was somehow still here, although I stopped caring about his presence a long time ago.
I heard a pair of skates scratch the ice and make their way over to my hunched over body. While I couldn't exactly see who it was through my blurred vision, I already knew it was him. He offered me one of his pale skinny hands but I just stared at it puzzled.
