“Don’t rush. Just drive safely.”
In record time, Frankie changed clothes, reminded her father where he could find his dinner, and was out the door.
As she inserted her key into the ignition, she muttered, “Charlie Welch, you are not off to a good start with me. How can such a disorganized man like you be the skating director?”
* * *
All the tension Frankie felt on the drive to the rink fled her body the moment she stepped onto the ice and saw the bright-eyed, cheery faces of the group of four- and five-year-old level-one students she and Leslie would be teaching for the evening’s first group class.
Each child wore a helmet, gloves, and oversized jacket, and had a lanyard acting as a name tag looped around their neck. They stood in a neat line hugging the closest wall, their eyes wide and hungry to learn.
“And how is everyone doing tonight?” Leslie called out in a cheery tone. She had jade-green eyes, bubblegum-pink hair, and an athletic frame. Frankie guessed she was about five foot nine based on how the other woman towered over her.
“Gooooood,” the children chorused.
“Are we excited to skate today?”
“Yes!”
Leslie cupped a hand to her ear. “I don’t think the level fives on the other side of the rink heard you all.”
“YES!” they exclaimed.
“Excellent.” She grinned. “Today, we have a special helper with me. Her name is Miss Frankie. Can you say hello to her?”
“Good . . . evening . . . Miss . . . Frankie,” they chorused.
Frankie’s heart warmed. She lifted a hand and waved. “I’ve heard you’re all superstars. I can’t wait for you to show me what you can do.”
Leslie clapped her hands together. The children returned their attention to her. “Who can tell me what we worked on last week?”
Two hands shot up into the air like rockets. Leslie pointed to a little boy in a red hoodie. “Michael?”
“Swizzles.”
“Very good.” Leslie nodded. Michael puffed out his chest, looking pleased with himself. “Eric, can you show us what swizzles look like?” she asked the other child who had raised his hand.
The little boy in a black jacket wiggled forward, pushing his skates toward each other, then away from one another. His blades left S-shape indentations in the ice. The other children observed and started to mimic Eric’s movements with looks of fierce concentration on their little faces.
Frankie brought a hand to her mouth and bit back a giggle. They reminded her of children dancing the Hokie Pokey, each one wiggling to their own beat.
“You’re all doing an amazing job. Give yourself a pat on the back.” Leslie reached her arm behind her. The kids mirrored her movements. “Now that everyone remembers what swizzles are, let’s practice.”
Leslie wiggled her hands, signaling for the kids to come toward her while she slowly glided backward. One by one, they came away from the wall, skating in the direction of their instructor.
Frankie observed from the side, noting how relaxed the pink-haired coach was. She had a calm, easy manner about her, but also had her eyes glued to the kids, watching them like a mother hawk, in case they fell. Ice, after all, was hard.
In the blink of an eye, two hours passed. Frankie had assisted Leslie with a level-six class learning flip jumps and half-loop jumps, a level-seven class working on two-footed back spins, and an intermediate-level boys’ hockey class.
As they cleaned up the orange safety cones dividing the ice into different sections after the last class that evening, Leslie chatted with her. “So how did it feel being on the other side of the boards as a coach, instead of being the skater?”
“It didn’t feel as strange as I thought it might. The level ones were so sweet. I was scared the boys in the last class would be little terrors, but they were the best-behaved group of the night!”
Leslie laughed. “They weren’t always that way.” She deposited a set of cones in one of the two hockey bench areas near the speaker system.
“Really?”
“I’ve had most of those kids for two years. They know I won’t take any crap from them, especially if they want to try out for the rink’s junior hockey team. I’m the head coach. Every time they step onto the ice, they know I’m watching them. They have to prove to me that they’re able to listen and be respectful.”
