“I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be at home finishing your packing.”
“I have a student who wanted to squeeze in one more lesson before her competition next week. She’s got me wrapped around her little fingers. I can’t ever seem to say no to her.” He opened his locker and retrieved a puffy black coat embroidered with the name “Mr. C” on the front pocket. “Are you done coaching for the day?”
“Yeah, that was my last lesson.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you come and join me.”
“I think I’m all coached out.” Gemma stiffened. “Some people, like Frankie, happen to be naturals at teaching. I don’t seem to have that gene in me.”
“Trust me when I say that coaching is like a muscle. You can train it to be strong. It just needs consistency and repetition.” He studied her for a moment. “I’m not a natural coach either. I had to work extra hard to be able to learn how to not scare kids and get over being an introvert.” He zipped the coat up. “Between you and me, I think you’re off to a better start than Frankie was when she began coaching.”
Gemma locked eyes with Charlie. “Do you really think so?”
“I do.”
“That means a lot coming from you.” She grinned. “But don’t think that gets you off the hook. I’m so telling her you said that.”
“Go ahead.” He closed his locker. “So what do you say? Will you join me? Richelle is a special student. I think you’d have fun with us.”
She knew Charlie was right. Frankie had said the transition from skater to coach had been a tough adjustment to make. Her best friend told her she was constantly questioning if she was doing things right.
Gemma knew if this was a career she was seriously considering moving into, she needed to approach it with the outlook that itwouldget easier the more time and practice she got.
“You’ve talked me into it. Give me two minutes to put my skates back on.”
Charlie nodded. “I’ll meet you out on the ice.”
As he pushed the door open, a sweet high-pitched voice exclaimed, “Mr. C! I’ve waited all week to see you!” Tiny arms enveloped Charlie’s legs in a hug.
“Hi, Richelle,” he greeted her.
As they separated, Gemma heard the rustling of paper. “Look what I drew at school for you.”
Charlie knelt down, accepting the paper with both hands as if it were the map to a hidden treasure. “Is that us?”
“No, silly?.?.?. it’s you and Coach Frankie. I’m standing over here in the pink.”
“Ah, I see.”
The door closed softly, and Gemma couldn’t help but smile.If I had one student who was as sweet as that, it might all be worth it.
As she stood, yet another twinge radiated up her hip. Inhaling sharply, she braced herself against the metal lockers and waited a moment for the stabbing sensation to pass. “And things were going so well today,” she muttered. “I’ve overdone it.”
The door creaked open. “Gemma? Are you all right?”
She managed to flash a thumbs-up. “Just a foot cramp.” She reached her other hand behind her back and crossed her fingers.
Charlie shot her a sympathetic glance. “Those are the worst. Anything I can do to help?” He stowed Richelle’s artwork inside his locker.
“No. It just needs a second for it to pass on its own. I shouldn’t be too long. You go on. I’ll be right behind you.”
Charlie reluctantly agreed and left her alone.
She thought she had things under control and was on the road to recovery, but apparently not. She wondered if she should pick up a heating pad for her hip on the way home. If the last flare-up she had was anything to go by, walking tomorrow was going to be painful.
She knew Frankie and Charlie had a heating pad, but she couldn’t ask them. If she did, they might become suspicious. She couldn’t add to their stress levels. Their first international competition was this weekend, and she knew Frankie was nervous.
No. I’ll figure it out all on my own.
