Dark Night

Bang

While I was having fun dating, there wasn't a boy I'd seen who made me want to have more with him, so I took a pass on the winter dance, fetchingly titled the Frost Frolic. John was still feeling kind of mauled by his relationship with Jeanne, so I didn't take him either. Instead, we went up to the rink for public skating. "It'll be fun," he said. "There's more than one way to frolic."  And thinking about, I found that my animosity for skating had faded now that I had my own interests and my life purpose wasn't fated to be sitting on the sidelines.

So the night of the dance we drove up (I got to play with the climate controls in his Mustang again) and found the rink pretty much empty. John entertained me with jumps that you didn't see in competition anymore, straddle jumps and stag jumps and Russian jumps. We did those jumps in drill, but he got a lot more hang time than I did. When pressed, I managed my dinky single salchow which he was kind enough to applaud. But other than that, we just circled around, chatting about finals that were coming up, his trip down to LA to visit his grandparents for Christmas, and our growing desire/fear of knowing the results for our college applications. Those results were still a few months off. "At least they won't come in til after the Olympics, so I can shut myself up in my room and cry if I don't get in anywhere and nobody will care," was his analysis, which I fully scoffed at. John was also an honors student, even if he was a couple places behind me in class ranking, and realistically, being an Olympic athlete was going to help with admissions.

"You still have Worlds to do, and why not go out as the world champion?" I asked.

"Yeah, let me just do that," he said, chortling.

"What a surprise to see the attractive Knight sibling on the ice willingly," Marc said loudly from the gate, and John snickered.  So he came out too for a bit. Inevitably, the conversation turned to the Olympics.

"I'm kind of surprised that you haven't started training again," John said. "I know you had  surgeries from the car accident, but I've seen you do triples again." Marc frowned.

"The accident was... horrific," he said quietly. " I was trapped in the car for the best part of an hour while the emergency crew worked to pry the other vehicle away from my car and free me. I had to have eight surgeries to repair the damage to bone, tendons, ligaments, and muscle, and to repair a failed surgery. My partner moved on, I'd have to find another, and truthfully, I fear that the stresses from skating will damage the leg again. I'm not like Plushenko, who could come back from even more surgeries than that with a quad. I could live happily without having another surgery ever. Krista was very kind to bring me here to learn to coach, and I find that this is something  that I can do which also brings me satisfaction."

"Sorry, Marc, I didn't mean--" John started, and Marc smiled.

"It's ok. I'm 21 now, which is getting late to mount a comeback. I'm just glad that I can continue to have a meaningful career in skating somehow. And this one promises to have more longevity." He smiled. "It's too bad you two don't skate pairs. You look pretty together. Delia has snap to her which would make an interesting pair with John, who's normally tranquil."

John and I looked at each other and started to laugh. But neither of us complained when he insisted on teaching us a basic waltz hold and soon we were skating around. We were going a lot faster than I usually did backward but I trusted John wouldn't crash me into the boards. We did get tangled up once and went very splat, but neither of us got hurt--a real risk in pairs skating--and we laughed it off. A couple more things--a basic one-footed spin that we tried to do in unison failed spectacularly because John couldn't slow down enough to match me and a single salchow that went slightly better, and Marc, laughing, headed for the gate. "I have much to learn teaching beginners," he said. "I do much better with those who know the basics." We waved goodbye and went back to skating.

"It is kind of fun, but singles skating can be frustrating enough," John said.

"You'd be wasted in pairs," I said briskly. "Miki Ando is the only woman to ever land a quad of any kind in competition, and she did that way back in 2002, I think, in juniors. Puberty sucks for female skaters."

"Why's that?" he asked, taking my hand, turning, and skating backward. I balanced on one skate, outside edge, and carefully extended the other one behind me, glad for my flexibility, and we glided for a bit before he dropped my hand and we skated side by side again.

"A female's power to weight ratio is at its highest before puberty. Once that hits, it's downhill, and  development also can disrupt all that precision timing they've perfected over the years. Women have usually hit their peak by the time they're 20 at the latest, which is why I think they can't crack the quad barrier reliably. Boys just get stronger after puberty, they can spin faster, jump higher, and do it for longer. Biology sucks sometimes," I sighed. "You know how much strength it takes to do those rotations, get enough height to get them all in before the blade touches down. It must feel so amazing."

John was quiet a moment. "But at the same time, the women's programs are also more artistic than ours."

"Aside from you," I poked him, and he laughed. Then it was time to get off the ice so that the rink could close. "I think I had more fun tonight than I would have at the dance," I said, shivering a little as we walked to the car. The temperature had really dropped while we were inside.

"It was really fun," John agreed, starting the car so I could get the seat warmer on. "Sometimes I forget how much fun it can be to just skate, not be worried about landing jumps or  the perfect line, or connecting with the audience." He grinned at me and I patted his hand on the gearshift. "But to be honest, I'm really looking forward to just being able to be a student, do normal student things, have fun without worrying about my weight and my workouts, all of that."

"Won't be long now," I said.

On Monday, I heard about the dance, but nothing I heard made me wish I'd gone instead. We were getting ready for finals and I was getting focused. It was my last opportunity to impress the universities I'd applied to.  I was diligently taking notes in sociology when I heard bangs and the building shook slightly. Was this an earthquake? I looked around wildly; I'd not been in one yet.

But no. "Teachers, lockdown," the principal said over the intercom, trying not to sound scared. "This is not a drill." He repeated this two more times, but Ms Stewart had already dashed outside, closing the fire doors before darting back into the classroom and locking the door, hitting the lights. We scrambled for the walls.

"Kids, sit down on the floor against the walls," she said quickly as she jerked the shades down over the windows. "I know you're scared, but be calm and quiet." She sat down by the white board where she could look out the window of the door, her face strained. She gripped a yardstick tightly. I listened to my terrified classmates try to be silent, but there were still harsh, rapid breaths and smothered crying sounds. I was silent but shaking so hard I was afraid it was audible. My breathing got raspy and quick.

There were no more bangs.

Then the fire door rattled open.