The Ice Between Us

Two

Silas Brookers

"And up, and down, and dip the arm. Lower, lower. Leg up, and up! Silas, please, lower your hip," Madame Marchette demanded. Silas tried to adjust his hip, but that was just how it sat. Did she expect him to rearrange his entire body? He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about skating. It was so much more enjoyable than ballet. 

With the clap of her hands, Silas was given permission to drop his leg, along with the rest of the ballet class. 

"I can tell you all are not practicing as much as you should over your long weekends," Marchette said to the class, crossing her arms. Silas panted heavily. Water. All he needed was some water. 

Also, not practicing? He was the only figure skater in this room, all of his ballet practice was practically doubled by the time he spent on the ice. How could she say he wasn't practicing? This was his warm up for practicing. The Olympic trials were in late December– which meant he had about four full months left to practice before traveling to Lansing for the trials. He was working harder now than ever. And Marchette was actually trying to target him for not working hard enough?

He bet it was because he'd been gone for two weeks. And yeah, maybe he should have stretched a bit while he was gone. But who was she to dictate his life?

"Get some water, we pick back up in ten." 

Silas reached desperately for his warmups. He could feel his muscles tensing by the second. He slid on some leg warmers, just for his calves. Those cramps were the worst. Luckily, his vacation had given his legs a much needed break in the warmth of Bora Bora. But finally, he was back in Michigan. Back to the cold, which his muscles didn't appreciate. 

Silas took a deep gulp from his water bottle. His mouth was drier than the Sahara itself. Thank goodness he remembered to ice his water– he'd be drinking disgusting air temp water right now if he hadn't. But, it being the first ballet lesson since vacation, he'd made sure to prepare. 

Silas took the ten minute break to check his phone. He didn't have friends in ballet– no, all his sports friends were in figure skating. Even though he took private lessons now, those connections weren't lost. 

There was a reminder on his phone that must have gone off during warmups; rink @ 1. He checked the time; 11:48. Ballet ended at... what, 12:45 most days? If the bus wasn't late, which was a rather hopeful thought, Silas would get to practice just on time. As Marchette called out to get into positions at the barre, Silas prayed she wouldn't find an excuse to hold the class too long. 

***

"You are late, Brookers."

"I'm perfectly aware, Rhee," Silas said, rushing to his locker in an annoyed frenzy. Late, on his first official day back at the rink. His friend grinned, wiping off a layer of sparkly makeup off his eyes. "What's with the...?" Silas asked, pointing to his own eye area a smirking a little. 

Gaten, Silas's friend, turned away from the mirror, where a large array of blue sparkly glitter seemed to be stuck to his eye. Silas unzipped his backpack and opened up his locker, where his skates sat, collecting dust. Gaten sighed. 

"Jess wanted to practice our routine in what she calls 'full glam.' Basically, in our performing skates, our outfits, and in makeup. She said it would make us feel more natural doing it when the performance comes," he said, turning to the mirror again. 

"Smart girl."

"Yeah, but this fucking makeup is so hard to get off," he groaned, rubbing his eye aggressively in the mirror. Silas slipped the blade covers onto his skates. They'd been sitting in the locker room for ages, and now his feet were basically itching for them.