Fuck.
“I mean, Savannah. She’s beautiful and she can beat me at Chel. She’s like ultimate wifey material. You see her watching the game? She actually cared and we could actually talk about it. And she’s so… nice. I don’t like when girls do that snarky and hard to get thing. A lot of guys are really into that, but it just makes me feel like I don’t have a chance. I like how nice she is.”
I understood what he meant. A lot of puck bunnies were “sassy.” Sav was the complete opposite. When she looked at you, you could tell she was listening to what you were saying, not just trying to come up with the next best one-liner to respond with. She was kind. The way she was with Duke, it was obvious that she looked out for those around her.
But fucking A. He wasin lovewith her? After onenight?
I mean, I liked her too. But in love? I wasn’t sure if that even existed. And if he really was that serious about her, I’d have to back off and box up the feelings I was having about her.
“You actually like her that much?” I asked, trying to keep reluctance out of my voice. If he said yes, I’d have to let her go. I’d have to. He was my best friend in the whole world. He could’ve played in the OHL this year, but he turned down the offer in order to follow me here to play juniors, and then he never talked about it again. Like… that could’ve been his ticket… but he didn’t wanna leave me behind. We made a pact at like eight or nine years old and sealed it with a spit handshake in the parking lot of our shitty home rink that we’d always stay together. We swore that we’d put each other first before anything or anyone else and that we’d always honor each other’s word. He was still sticking to it. I had too as well.
“I do, man,” he said back to me. “I think I’m gonna try to talk to her tomorrow at the rink.”
I swallowed, but my throat felt like it was closing up. I’d have to just forget about her and find someone else, I guess. We were in this life together. Bro’s over… nah, I would not call her a hoe.
“You ever regret not going to London?” I asked him then. The OHL team that wanted him skated out of London, Ontario.
“Never,” he gave me his cocky smile. “Life’s too short. I keep tryin’ to tell you that. I’m here for a good time, not a long time, bud. And… I think I’m even more happy I passed it up now…”
Damn. He was really serious about her.
I could see him smiling up at the ceiling before turning over to go tosleep.
And I laid there trying to make it all okay in my mind.
6. Sav
My dad dropped me off at the rink early on Saturday morning because he had an off day and didn’t like the idea of me walking alone. Duke would’ve usually joined me, but he was sleeping in because he had an afternoon game.
I loved Saturday morning practices because the required level to skate on these sessions was usually intermediate or novice and up, which meant there were always less girls on the ice. We wouldn’t be having to look out for the younger girls getting in our way during our program run-throughs. I never blamed the little girls when this happened– they didn’t know the rules of the ice yet– but it was kind of frustrating when you were powering through an almost perfect program only to have to skip the last lutz combo because someone was spinning in the corner. (That was the worst figure skating ice offense a person could commit– skating in the lutz corner– because you could not practice that jump anywhereelse).
I also liked Saturdays because I stayed at the rink after practice to work the concession stand. Saturdays and Sundays were big hockey game days at the Ice League, so the concession stand was usually super busy. I tried to get a job coaching Learn to Skates– which meant helping toddlers learn to march and stand back up on the ice after they fell– but Craig said all the posts were unfortunately taken. I’d have to wait for the skaters a couple years older than me to leave for college before anything opened up. But that was fine, I’d wait and earn some cred around here first. Besides, running the concession stand was usually kind of fun; plus, I’d get to watch Duke’s game from my post.
The only thing that kinda stunk about today was that I had a lesson with my coach, Victoria, first thing when I stepped on the ice. Back in her day, Victoria was a pairs champion. She’s somewhere in her late thirties, but definitely doesn’t look it– which shouldn’t be too surprising considering that her top priority in life is her looks. One time at a competition, someone asked if I was her daughter and I’d never seen her glare so evilly at someone. She snapped back, ‘Does it look like I could have birthed a teenager?’ So… yeah. But we did slightly look alike when her hair was blonde– she’d recently dyed it back to jet black which made her green eyes look nice. She also had a new huge rock on her wedding finger given to her by a Swedish hockey coach here at the League… but I don’t think either of them were in a rush to the altar considering how much they flirted with everyone else in the rink…
Anyways, I liked it better when I got at least a half hour on the ice to warm-up and push into my jumps at my own pace before my lesson. Victoria always forced me to simulate a competition– so I’d have to do a five-minute warm-up and then a program right after. I hated doing that. I honestly hated competitions. I wish I could’ve just spent all my time practicing and then be judged based on my body of work as a whole instead of what happened in a nerve-wracking, three-minute time slot.
I walked through the lobby and back to the rubber-floored hallway that had locker rooms on both sides of it. Locker room number 5 was our place– the figure skater’s designated locker room. I pushed open the heavy door and plopped down in my spot. We all had our unofficial spots that no one dared to change up. The world may think that hockey players are superstitious, but figure skaters were much worse.
I nodded my hello to the three of the girls in the regular crew who were already in the locker room–Farrah, Lyssa, and Maddie– and began lacing up my skates.
Figure skating friendships were always weird because we’d all (decently) get along as friends… until a competition neared. Those weeks leading up to a competition were usually filled with silence and moodiness toward each other. I tried to just stay out of all the drama… but that meant I wasn’t really close with anyone, which also kinda sucked… because I was never included, and I had no one to vent to who could actually relate to me. I could talk to my mom about things when she had the time, but she never really understood. Figure skating was my passion, but it was lonely a lot of times.
As soon as I pushed onto the ice, I made eye-contact with Victoria, and she motioned to her watch– alerting me that I was right… She was making me do a run-through.
I hustled to get as much warmed-up as I could. I first skated a lap, then threw some waltz jumps, then gradually moved up to harder jumps.
When five minutes hit, I still had yet to do anything past a double axel or spin… but that was it, I’d have to do the rest for the first time in my program. I mean, I knew it was only practice, but I also knew that the DeLux Skating Competition was coming up in a few weeks… so all the other girls would probably be watching this program ofmine.
I tried to push all negative thoughts aside as I glided to my startingposition.
As soon as I heard the first few chords of my Spanish music strum, I spun forward on my toepick, then was off into a footwork sequence that led into my first combo jump: a double axel-doubletoe.
I set it up just like normal, but as I pushed forward into the jump on my outside edge, I didn’t feel ready… I still hit my toepick. I still launched up. But I did not pull my body in. This resulted in what we called a “pop”– basically a large blob in the air.
My music was immediately turned off and my chest tightened.
Everyone’s eyes were on me then and my face heated up despite the cold rink.
