Someone walks right in front of me, and I windmill to a stop.
“I thought I was sweet all the time.”
“You’re sweet most of the—shit!” Madeline’s skate slips on something or other, and she flails sideways into me. The following ten seconds are dicey, but at the end of it we’re both upright, clinging to each other and panting.
“You okay?”
“Sorry—I nearly took you down with me again,” she says. “I’m telling you, no Olympics.”
We get the last few feet to the bench where Ben and Castillo—Amy? I have no idea what to call her now—are already sitting and looking down at their feet, like maybe the ice skates will magically remove themselves. I manage to deposit Madeline, then turn and carefully flop backward. Nothing breaks.
“I used muscles I didn’t know I had,” says Ben, still staring at his feet.
“Didn’t you graduate med school?” I ask.
“I’m not a muscle doctor,” he says, like that explains anything. I don’t push.
“My bones feel like mud. Is that something that can happen?” I wonder.
“There’s a sentence I’ve never heard before,” says Madeline.
“Thanks. I try to keep things interesting.”
“I think that condition is called…muddius bonius,” Ben offers.
“Babe, you didn’t even try,” chides Castillo.
“And who can blame me?”
Castillo, sitting on the other side of Ben, takes this opportunity to lean forward and look over at Madeline and me.“Also, a lot of elite distance runners are in their thirties. You could still have a shot at the Olympics.”
“I really don’t think I could,” says Madeline. “For starters, I think I’d have to like running.”
“That’s a problem,” muses Castillo, and we all stare down at our skates for a moment. “Okay,” she finally says and cracks a few knuckles. We’re doing this. Skates off.”
Since we’re gentlemen,Ben and I wind up returning the rental skates to the counter. Madeline and Amy wait on the bench and debate which Olympic sports they’d be best at. Amy has claimed that she could probably manage the biathlon, where you shoot while skiing. Madeline is wondering how hard bobsled can be, really.
“There’s gotta be an obscure one I could train really hard for,” Ben is saying while we stand in the line, waiting to give these skates back. “Racewalking, maybe?”
“I think Madeline was onto something with bobsled,” I say. “Luge? I bet I could do luge. You just have to lie down.”
There’s a brief silence, and when I look over at Ben, he’s studying me with a slight frown. I have a brief, unpleasant memory of my father waiting in the living room for Thalia’s prom date.
“Be good to her,” he says, and I stand a little taller. Just in case.
“Of course I will,” I say. “You’re not going to try and give me thehurt her and I’ll kick your asstalk, are you?” I’ve observed that talk, and I’ve gotten that talk, and it annoyed the shit out of me every single time.
Ben snorts. “What? No, I’m not prepared to kick anyone’s ass, are you kidding?”
Shit. “Sorry,” I say. “I’ve been with my family all day. It’s easy to forget that some people are normal.”
“Technically you’re still with your family,” he says and nods toward where Madeline and Castillo are sitting.
“Wow, clever.”
“If Madeline’s gonna get with her stepbrother, I’m gonna give her shit about it.” Now he’s grinning. “Sorry.”
“Are you?”
