His Game

Chapter 8: Jack

I can finish with weeding later. And by later, I mean not at all. Because I have something else on my mind.

Getting Elsa, the goody-goody girl, in trouble. 

I am fairly sure that Agnarr doesn't know that she did figure skating. He is the kind of person who won't stand for it, only hard work. He is the dream crusher. If he finds out about Elsa's ambition...

My phone is in my pocket. I call my best friend, Hiccup, and he picks me up. After maybe fifteen minutes in car, he stops at the ice skating rink where Elsa is likely to be practicing.

"Is this the place?" He asks, narrowing his eyes, which are made black and green by colored contacts. He wears mostly black leather, and has a dragon tattoo that starts at his wrist, wrapping around his arm and neck, ending just below the chin. 

"Yep." I grin, "I'm just gonna take a quick video on my phone, and then maybe it'll find itself on the internet. If any of Agnarr's coworkers see it, he'll be sure to find out."

"Awesome. Go kill that b*tch." Hiccup high-fives me and then leaves, and I sneak inside the ice skating rink. 

The floor is made of blue foamy stuff, criss-crossed with lines from people walking all over it in their ice skates. It smells like sweat. Elsa is nowhere to be seen, so I slink into the bleachers. My breath comes out in small clouds while I wait, going to a seat where she won't be able to see me.

A lone figure glides onto the ice. I can tell right away that it's Elsa, because her blonde braid flies out behind her. She has on a blue sparkly leotard and skirt. She looks ridiculous. 

Dumb, super slow music starts to play. 

All that she's doing is skating in circles! How is that a sport... Oh.

Elsa picks up speed and leaps into the air, twirling as she lands. I whip out my phone and start making a video as her arms do graceful movements around her head. She skates backwards, not even looking to see where she is going. She must know the rink pretty well.

Elsa does a spin on one foot, her arms in a circle around her head, eyes closed, a smile on her lips.

Like a fairy-princess wannabe. I can't help but laugh at how conceited she looks. 

She keeps going. Elsa's twirl gets tighter and tighter until she begins to bend over backward, one leg in the air. Her hair skims the ice. Gross.

She straightens, and speeds around the rink again, her hand in the air, and goes in for another jump. 

And then I see it.

I may not be a figure skater, but I know when someone's going to fall. Apparently, Elsa does, too. She must have noticed that she didn't push off the ground hard enough or something.

Her eyes widen as she falls, and then she smacks into the ice.

I laugh, thinking that she'll want to go home and cry like a sore looser.

But she doesn't.

Elsa gets back up, breathing heavily, flexing her wrists. She checks to make sure her skates weren't the problem, and then does the same move again. 

She does it perfectly this time. 

I duck as she skates past me, and thankfully I go by unnoticed, free to watch and film. The music starts to fade out, and then Elsa stops, frozen in a graceful position.

Just when I think things can't get much dumber, another song starts to play. I zoom in on Elsa's face for a few more seconds of footage, and then end the video. Hiccup won't be able to pick me up again without his parole officer breathing down his neck, so I'll have to walk.

It's probably be better that way. I'll be back in the garden just when Agnarr comes out to tell me I'm done for the day, clueless to the fact that I've done barely any work.

Grinning, I run out the door, ignoring the look that the woman behind the skate counter gives me, and start to walk in the general direction of the madhouse.

Well, on the way I stop at the gas station and steal a few packages of cigarettes, but other than that, I made it back quickly considering I was walking. 

The Winter Mansion comes into view, and I duck inside Elsa's corner of the garden just as I hear the front door open and close.

I push my hands into the soil to make them dirty and little more convincing, pulling out a few blades of grass for more emphasis. 

Agnarr's boots make a crunch sound as he walks up to me.

"You didn't do much," He says, disgruntled. 

"It's hot and I'm tired." The lie slips easily off my tongue. "Did I do enough, or do you want me out here all night, too?"

"Watch your mouth or you will be out during the night regularly." Agnarr says coldly, "But, you can be done for today."

"Thank God." I snap.

"Jack." His voice is like ice. "Do not take that tone of voice with me."

I don't reply.

"Understood?"

I still don't say anything.

"Understood?"

"Fine!" I spit the words out like poison.

"Thank you," He says, smirking slightly. I didn't know it was possible for old men to be that smug. 

He turns and leaves, and I brush the dirt off my hands on my jeans, scowling. There are countless pranks lined up in my mind. Hundreds. Thousands. And all of them are going to be directed at Agnarr, the man with so much wood up his butt he might as well be a tree.

Standing up, I kick the pile weeds back into the dirt, and hear the door open and close again. Agnarr is gone.

I turn, ready to go inside, but instead find myself staring into the angry gaze of a blue-eyed beast.

Elsa. 

And she looks angry, let me tell you. She looks ready to kill. I'm not sure why, though. Until she holds up my phone.

The one that I must have dropped at the ice skating rink.

Elsa's lips purse into a thin line.

"So," She says.