The rink has stopped being a prison for me to work like a hamster in a cage and it’s become my sanctuary.My home. I feel most alive when I’m skating, when I’m able to let the music take me across the ice as if it’s second nature. I’ve started skating with the girls and our friends at the public rink in town and I can just enjoy myself. I can just live.And when it stops feeling like that, I'm going to stop. I'm not going to force myself into doing it to find what I once had. When it's not fun anymore, I'll find something else. I'll have to.
After hours of practice, I go into the locker room and pull out my phone to talk to Gigi. I had to schedule an appointment to talk to my friend. She’s suddenly so busy with her series and doing her online classes that I’ve hardly had time to talk to her. At exactly three forty-four my phone lights up with a call.
“Hi, Emmy,” she says, followed by a long sigh.
“Hey, G, what’s the big news?” I ask, readjusting my socks on my ankle. “If it’s something to do with Mr Dixie’s immune system, I don’t want to know.”
“It isn’t,” she begins with a long dramatic pause. “I got a deal with Tiger Publishing Agency.”
My heart almost breaks in half – part joy and part jealousy. She has already made it so big as a semi-famous author through self-publishing, but this is different.Thisis her big break. My best friend the author. What is this life? As much as I am proud of her, I wish I could do the same.
“Oh my God, Gianna! I’m so happy for you. This is insane,” I exclaim. She’s quiet over the phone for a second.
“It’s not insane. You were the one who told me you were sure that it would get picked up,” she replies.
“Either way, it’s great. I am so proud of you, Gigi,” I say. “You should come to Kennedy’s party tonight. It’s not going to be too crazy, and we can celebrate your deal.”
“That’s exactly what my mom said but I’m going to stay home. We could go out for lunch soon though?” she asks quietly. I don’t push her anymore on it. Growing up with her, I’ve always known that she would take a little longer than the rest of us to adjust to extreme social situations.
“That sounds good. I’ll text you later,” I say, standing up from the bench. “Wish me luck for my competition.”
“You don’t need my luck, Wren,” Gigi says before ending the call. I push down all the jealous feelings and try to be happy for my best friend. This is it for her.
I grab my duffle bag from my locker and walk down to Coach Darcy’s office. Her office is a large classroom that’s been converted into an office. Even though she doesn’t need all the space, she somehow managed to snag one of the coolest offices in the whole University. There was a rumour that she used to live in here because the room was so big, yet she didn’t need to use up all the space for the shrinking ice-skating team.
“Hey, coach. Are you ready to go?” I ask, walking through the open door. Coach is looking at her cabinet full of trophies for the school, zipping up her coat. I’ve spent way too much time in here to know a story about every single trophy in the cabinet. A lot of which were won by my mom.
“Yes,” she replies without looking back at me. “Are you ready? This is a big competition, Wren.”
“I’m ready. I’m excited, even,” I say, only half lying. The fact that I don’t feel sick to my stomach is a good sign. She turns to me, her short brown her swishing over her shoulder.
“You sure?” she asks, walking towards me. She places her hands on my shoulders, squinting her eyes at me as if to study me. “All eyes are going to be on you.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working. I’m ready, Coach,” I say bravely.
“If you say so,chèrie,” she whispers.
*
Ithought I would be nervous when we drove half an hour away from Salt Lake. I thought I would feel that sick feeling in my stomach as I put on my silver figure skating dress. I also thought I’d feel a little queasy when I put on my lucky skates. I thought I’d feel worse when I saw the girls in the crowd with a very pregnant Austin next to them. But for some reason I’m not. I’ve spent the last two months preparing for this. I’ve put the work in. I’ve had no distractions. Even when they call out my name and‘Flying’starts to play, I feel settled. Even when I’m ready in my position on the ice, I feel fine.
I’m ready.
CHAPTER 46
MILES
Iknew it was a good idea to come here. After Kennedy practically forced me to, I had no choice. Whether or not she sees me and shouts at me to get out, it was worth coming to see her preform. Every time I’ve been to see her, she’s completely mesmerised me. I tried my best to stay as hidden as possible so if she saw me, she wouldn’t freak out and I think it worked.
She won. She fucking won. It wasn’t a close call. It wasn’t a ‘she just made it.’ She won withflying colours. My Wren. With a complicated ass routine to‘Flying,’ by Cody Fry. The last minute of the routine had every one of the edges of their seats as she turned and glided up and down the ice. She received a two minute standing ovation from the hundreds of people in the room when her routine finished. When they called out her name, she stood on the ice as they hung heavy medals around her neck and handed her a huge trophy. I could see Kennedy and Scarlett basically crying with happiness across from me as they hugged each other when she won. I think it was one ofthe first times I’vetrulyseen Wren smile. Not a fake sarcastic one that she likes to throw me at my bad jokes but a real one. A real, toothy, red faced, Wren-type smile.
I just want, so desperately, for her to smile at me likethat.
The second she walked off the ice, a huge grin still on her face, I sprinted down the steps to catch up with her.A part of me is telling me to wait but another part of me pushes forward. Maybe I should turn up to Kennedy’s party and say something then, but after seeing that performance, I don’t think I can wait any longer.
I get to the changing room door and without thinking properly, I push it open, the flowers I brought with me almost getting ruined in the process. Half of me was expecting her to have gone already. To have run out, leaving behind a cloud of smoke but she hasn’t. Instead, Wren is sitting on the bench staring at the trophy in her hands. I don’t need her to tell me I’m breathing loud when I inch closer to her.She turns around, and her face is red and slightly sweaty, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead.
“What are you doing? You can't be in here,” Wren says without missing a beat as her smile drops. She stands up, placing the trophy on the bench and closing the space between us.
