“Matt, call your friend. Get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid.”
“I miss you,” he said. “The crew says I talk about you all the time.” His tone made her feel all squishy and warm. Like she belonged to him.
Thoughts of him cruised through her all day. Her heart skipped when the phone rang just as she returned from her jog—three a.m. Pacific time—and then again at night, as she crawled into bed.
The Xander situation took care of itself. After he sailed away, she called him once and he called twice. Both conversations died quickly after their hellos.
When she said good-bye the last time, she knew they were both done.
“Be well, Xander.”
“You too, Harlow.”
Mom called a few weeks after the confrontation in her office, insisting her choices for Harlow were spot-on and she didn’t owe her an apology or explanation.“I’vegiven you a life most girls can only dream about, and sometimes not even their dreams are enough.”
After that rough call, Harlow ached for a candy bar, but she didn’t have one in the house, and she refused to run out to Biggs or Alderman’s to buy one in defiance of her stubborn mother. After a few minutes, the impulse died, and shew, progress. Three months ago, she’d have been out the door in a New York minute.
She worked the rink tonight, happy to see Dupree show up with his skates, which brought Tuesday to tears. They went around for a good long while together, mother and son holding hands.
He’d been helping Tuesday go through all the boxes in her office and the back room, carrying out several garbage bags in the evening, leaving more than enough memorabilia for the coming Starlight museum.
Over in concession, Spike flipped burgers and grilled hot dogs. Simon ran back and forth to the back room storage for napkins, serving trays, and soda syrup.
Nora cued up Peaches & Herb’s “Reunited” and called for a couple’s skate, though no one ever left the floor these days.
“Here.” Tuesday shoved her old skates at Harlow. “I can’t live with myself if you don’t master skating. Now get out there. Dupree will help you. Trust me, you’ll have fond memories after the wrecking ball knocks this place down.”
“How do you do it?” Harlow hugged the skates to her chest. “Stay so calm? This mess is breaking my heart and I’m a new kid around here.”
“Immanuel.” She pointed to the mural. “I was disappointed in Him, even doubted He existed the night they hammered up the demolition signs, but I’ve had time to reflect, do a bit of talking to Him, and I know I can trust Him. If He doesn’t save us, He must have a better plan.”
Nora announced an all skate with Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Shining Star.” No one could stay off the floor once the beat filled the rink, including Harlow.
“Hey, Harlow.” A group of teen girls rolled past her, so smooth and in control of their feet. “You hanging around town? Could you give us some pointers with our makeup?”
“Absolutely.” She walk-rolled-stumbled while hanging onto the wall, her back stiff, her feet at awkward angles.
Another skater swooshed passed with a greeting, but she only caught the back of his head. “Are you staying in town after the demolition?” he called when he passed her again. He was a Starlight regular, but she never got his name.
Another skater, one of the Biggs managers, rolled next to her.“Harlow, I’d really love to stock Hayes Cookies, but I’m having trouble connecting with the distributor. Any ideas?”
“I’ll give my dad a call.” Whoa, she almost face-planted.
“Doing okay, Harlow?” Dupree gently grabbed her arm.
“You tell me.” She clung to him until she stopped wobbling and tried to absorb the skating tips he offered.
She continued around the rink with him until Nora called all the dancers and shufflers to the floor. The bass riff of Madonna’s “Into the Groove” shook the Starlight as the disco ball began to spin. Every skater bopped to the rhythm like a choreographed music video. Even Dupree—a man in his sixties—got into it and headed a long line of shufflers.
Harlow clung to the wall until the group of girls interested in makeup linked their arms through hers and pulled her along.
That Friday night, she never left the floor. When Nora announced the final song, Harlow was hot, sweaty, and exhilarated.
“That was amazing.” She wrapped Tuesday in a hug as she surveyed her kingdom. “Did you see me? I made it all the way around without touching the wall, and I went backward for maybe three feet before I ran into Andrea Fuller, but she was really nice about it.” She yanked off her skates and looked out over the thinning crowd. “Gosh, I feel like I’m twelve. I think. I never really got to be twelve.”
“I knew you’d love it.” Tuesday smoothed her hand over Harlow’s hair. “Simon covered your chores. Why don’t you go on home?”
“I’m too jazzed to go home.” So she stored her skates—hers now, not Tuesday’s—and headed down the Beachwalk. The air under a bright moon was thick and warm. The Gulf lapped lazily against the shore, as if switching the tide might require too much effort.
