A group of friends tries to piece itself back together after losing its glue.
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It's a quiet October morning in Palo Alto, California, when the news break out--June Beaumont was...
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GRACE
I had always been a firm believer in The Wisdom of Confucius: it does not matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop, and stuff like that. It mattered to me because I was an ice skater and stopping meant I'd fall flat on my ass, and I wasn't willing to put myself through that sort of public humiliation.
All my life, my parents had spent plenty of time pushing me to perfection, and I'd pushed myself to be the best I could be. They wanted me to be at the top of my class year after year, and I was. They wanted me to apply to the best colleges in the country, so I did. They wanted me to take figure skating, so I did and won countless trophies throughout the years.
I didn't resent them for it. If anything, they had only helped me bring out my potential and act on it, and I definitely could have ended up with worse parents. They hadn't even batted an eye when I dragged Christina to my house to introduce her as my girlfriend; I simply said "Mom, Dad, meet Chris; Chris as in Christina, as in my girlfriend", and all they didn't like about our relationship was our preference for pineapple on pizza.
(I had since learned the error of my ways. Unfortunately for me, Christina still wasn't as lucky.)
So, with my parents' pressure and expectations weighing down on my muscles, I pressed my skates against the ice of the rink for an extra push, and jumped mid-skate, folding my arms in front of my chest. Up in the air, I spun around myself once, twice, three times, and landed on my right leg just as I exhaled, with my left one stretched out behind me, and my arms spread open like a swan's wings.
It wasn't good. My knee buckled when I landed and, for a split second, I feared I'd slip and fall or worse – I could have sprained an ankle thanks to that stunt, a jump I had done thousands of times. Heat shot up my leg and I let out an involuntary whimper, spreading my legs a little bit more than the recommended stance, which didn't do any wonders at easing the pain.
I didn't know what I would do if any other changes in my routine were introduced. I had already lost June, who I had thought would always be a constant in my life after everything we'd all gone through, and now, depending on the state of my ankle and the extent of the damage, I could very well lose figure skating.
Huffing, I slowly straightened and slid across the ice towards Christina. Her black hair and clothes and her brown skin easily stood out against the white color scheme of the rink, which made it harder to forget we were the only two people here. There weren't many competitive figure skaters in Palo Alto and the majority of people who ever came to the rink were young couples or parents with their children on the weekends, so I often had the place to myself.
