Glass Sneakers

17th ♕

17th ♕

"That's it! We're doing the interview now," Bridge exploded.

"Now?" I asked, perplexed. "Here."

"I'm not talking about here in the car. We'll reschedule your trip to the market. I'll fix up the press. We're heading straight to the rink and wait for Art to finish his schedule," Bridge informed me, endlessly typing on her phone.

Arriving at the indoor ice rink two hours earlier than scheduled, the members of the entourage were the first ones to go inside the building. Abiding by the protocol to keep everyone safe—taking into consideration the fact that I was getting a lot of hate lately—they thoroughly inspected the place first before letting us in.

The ice rink was new, and it smelled more of newly dried paint and plastic. The temperature was chilly enough for me who was only wearing a sundress, so I had to put on Jack's spare coat, while we waited in the locker room for Lenora and her team to arrive. She was caught up with her other prior engagements and she'd be here in an hour.

While we were waiting for the time to pass, I looked around the place with Jack following me. There were two sections of bleachers. The air became crisp as I trod closer to the rink itself. A safety glass surrounded the ice rink, and I traced my fingers on the surface.

"Have you skate before, Princess?" Jack asked me.

"No," I replied, holding the cold metal railing.

He told me, "But, Princess, you will skate later."

"I'm nervous about it." I threw him a quick smile. "I haven't told Bridge yet, since she seemed eager to finish the day. She'll probably spurt lava later on after she finds out that I have no idea how to walk on ice. Stand on ice. Everything concerning ice."

Jack couldn't answer for a minute.

Going back to the locker room, I said evenly, "I'll figure something out. Don't worry, I know how to ride a skateboard."

"Princess, I hate to break it to you, but it's closer to rollerblades than skateboarding," Jack tried to sound casual, but I knew he was worried.

"Balance and all?"

"No, unfortunately not, Princess," Jack said, his expression softening.

I was in a bigger trouble than I had imagined. I was foolishly thinking that I'd be fine, since I had an idea of balance. I rode bikes and used a skateboard all the time. I never gave it much thought. And apparently, I had bigger problems than not knowing how to skate.

I mean, someone had called me a whore. The word rung in my head like dead noise. If only Bridge hadn't pushed me inside the car and made sure I wouldn't be able to come out, I would have confronted that reporter and tell him that it was not okay to call me like that and get away with it.

Being famous equaled hearing unnecessary things. The reporter's words, Bridge told me, were nothing compared to what I'd see or hear in the news. To what the others had heard all their lives. People would talk about me. They would assume who I was. Some would always try to come up with the nastiest version of me.

During my first briefing with Bridge, I still remembered how she had instructed me not to read the news about me. She'd just tell me when I should read an article. This was when I realized that she did that for me. She had gone through all the gruesome things and only showed me the acceptable ones.

Because it would best to keep a sense of individuality in your head. So when it was time to sleep and you were alone in your room, you'd still know who you were. You'd still know what you were there for. You'd still know who you would be tomorrow. It was so easy to lose yourself in words, in one or two sentences that you heard.