Dark Night

Another confrontation

I walked out of the test feeling pleased with what I'd done; there were only a few questions I'd felt the need to flat out guess on; most of the ones I hadn't been able to answer I'd been able to narrow down to two options, but for the most part I was confident in my answers. After the test, I waited for my friends at the skate park where we hashed things out and then went to a late lunch.  

I took my break at the library during the men's short program and thus was able to see John leave the door open by missing two quads, landing triples, although that stunning quad axel was perfect. And because of that, Starry won the men's national championship title for the second year straight on Thursday. The skater came home, acting for all the world like he deserved a victory parade. When I congratulated him, his chest puffed out. "I told you, Delia, I land my jumps and I can win. Too bad your little study pal couldn't skate a clean program."

"You don't need to be rude," I said. "You've done things with John, you're friendly."

"We train together, is all," he said. "Tang doesn't have what it takes." Dad jumped in.

"Don't be a sore winner, Stan," he admonished his son, and my eyebrows jumped up. "You've made mistakes in competition too." That took the wind out of the skater's sails.

I was a little surprised the next day when Mom took me out to lunch and a little light shopping. I got two pairs of black boot-cut yoga pants and a couple of warm fleece tops in a dark emerald green and a bluish-purple. I wore the green top, which was a turtleneck, and pants to school on Monday, feeling pretty good about things. Until I got to gym.

The coaches gathered us in the gym and loaded us onto buses. That wasn't bad, playing soccer out in the damp, even in sweats, had gotten old. But on the ride, the coach on my bus stood and revealed our destination. "The school has an agreement with the ice skating rink to let us use it during public skating times, which happens to overlap with this class. Who here has skated before?" I put up my hand with about half my classmates. "Great. You get your skates and you can hit the ice right away. Those who haven't, we're really in luck, because a couple of the ice skating teachers who use the rink are going to help you out. They're not the coaches for the elite skaters, but teachers who are trained by the national ice skating association and they'll be able to get you up and running. We'll be going for two weeks, and once everybody can get around, we'll have half the rink for those who want to try hockey, and half the rink for the rest of you."

Two weeks? Oh, shoot me now. I wondered if I could break my leg and make it look like an accident.

When we pulled up to the rink, I got in line for the skates and was dismayed to see, out on the ice, my brother and his coach, Mr Petrov, finishing up. Shit. I hid behind some of my taller classmates, but eventually we were all herded onto the ice. I kept well away, watching the ice, trying to be inconspicuous. Didn't work. My brother flashed in front of me, skating backwards. "What are you doing here, Delia?" he asked, frowning.

"Gym class," I said grimly. "What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"There was an electrical fire in the school and we were sent home for the day," he said, shrugging. "So I came up for some extra work. Looks like I'll have to do dry-land training now." He gave me a hard look. "Unlimited use of the weight room and cardio equipment is included in the monthly fee to the rink." I skated around some slower-moving classmates. My brother was getting looks from my classmates. Some were pointing. There was giggling. Jesus. I skated around him, increasing my pace, avoiding the end of the rink where the non-skaters were inching along. The rink didn't have those aids that look like walkers, so the kids were very attentive to the teachers. I vaguely remembered learning to skate. I think it's something best done young, you have no fear then. My brother had no trouble keeping up with me, of course.