Breaking the Ice (17 page)

She picks at a tiny imperfection on her pink thumbnail. “I already said I would.”

I uncross my fingers as Tom slaps Addison on the back and everyone smiles at her. Her eyebrows crinkle like she's not sure what to do or say now that everyone seems to like her.

She pulls out her phone. “I'll text her now.”

While Addison waits for a reply from her friend in Indianapolis, the rest of us talk decorations and food. Tom and Samantha volunteer to buy it all, since ice dancers don't compete at Regionals and they'll miss out on the party. Just as we're debating between Fallton blue and white or more inclusive colors for the balloons, Greg opens the door to the Vocker Rooms.

“What's going on in here? Why aren't you all on the ice? The session started two minutes ago.”

No one answers, but we all scramble to the door.

“Okay . . . ,” Greg says as he watches us race toward the ice.

Addison stops next to me as I'm pulling off my blade guards. “Christina says she can get us the room. Turns out she has a job there now. And by the way, I'm glad you took my advice about Braedon.”

I clench my hands into fists as she skates off. Just wait until she sees what I do after the sessions today. She won't feel so gloaty then.

Chapter Thirty

I don't even unlace my
skates after the last session ends. Instead I wait by the doors for Greg to leave the ice after his lesson with Addison. Mom's busy chatting with Samantha's parents, so she doesn't even notice that I'm hanging around in my skates.

At least Dad isn't here to give me his disappointed eyes. It didn't happen for Praterville or me being late to Karilee's class. He seemed to think those things were kind of funny. But driving the Zamboni into the wall would probably be enough to bring out those what-happened-to-my-sweet-little-girl eyes. I don't think I could take that.

The Zam is fixed enough to putter across the ice again. I stand at the windows and watch it trace fat lines of smooth wet ice around and around. Something colorful catches my
eye, and I press the side of my face against the cool window to look down the rows of bleachers.

It's Addison, in her red sweater and skating skirt. She's sitting on the bottom bleacher, way off to the right. She's talking to someone, and after a minute, an arm reaches around her shoulders to hug her. Swishy brown hair appears next to her fake blond ponytail.

Braedon. As if my stomach wasn't churning enough, seeing Braedon hugging Addison makes me feel even more sick.

I don't care about him. He's the one who got me into so much trouble,
I say in my head. But I'm not sure I believe it.

I tear my eyes away from Braedon and Addison and try to steady my breathing. Is it even worth it to confess to Greg? Addison already seems to be getting her way.

It doesn't matter. If Braedon wants to hang out with Addison, fine. But I don't want it to be because she thinks she's blackmailing me. I really can't take all her smug, you-did-what-I-told-you looks.

And I don't think I can deal with this guilt anymore. Every time I see Greg, it threatens to eat me from the inside out. I barely made it through my lesson this morning without blurting it all out to him.

He finally steps into the lobby and stands for a moment,
talking to Karilee. Miyu appears next to me and squeezes my hand. “I'm coming anyway,” she says. “I won't say anything, but at least I'll be there if you need me.”

I give her a grateful smile. It's nice to have someone in my corner for a change. Greg and Karilee make their way through the rows of orange chairs. I put one skate in front of the other and catch Greg just as he's saying hello to Mom.

I clear my throat. Miyu stands off to the side and gives me a thumbs-up.

“Mom, Greg, I have something I need to say.” My voice comes out all shaky. I take a deep breath and let the words go. “I was on the Zamboni last week when it crashed into the wall. I didn't mean for anything to happen, but it did. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, and I won't ever do anything like that again.”

Mom stares at me and grips her coffee cup so hard I'm afraid it will snap in two. Greg's eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head.

“Nice one, Kaitlin,” he says with a little laugh.

I twist my hands together. “I'm not kidding. I was on the Zam.”

“You were on the Zam?” Greg repeats.

“Kaitlin, you don't have to cover for whoever did this,” Mom says quietly. “It was that Braedon, wasn't it?”

They aren't listening to me at all. I stomp my foot like a little kid. Annoyance boils up and flies out of my mouth as words. “I DID IT. I CRASHED THE ZAMBONI!”

Mom's looking at me like she's trying to figure out who I am. The chatter in the lobby dies down. I look to Miyu and notice Addison and Braedon standing just inside the doors, watching the whole thing. Greg turns and gives everyone a look, and the background noise starts again.

“Kaitlin, if you really did this . . . why?” Greg's staring me down.

I look away from his eyes and at the gritty floor. “I don't know. I guess I was curious. It was an accident.”

“Hmm.” Greg's quiet for a second. “Well, first, I'm very disappointed in you. I thought you knew better.” The way he says it, I can tell he still doesn't believe me. “Second, you're going to have to do something to help pay the rink back for their costs.”

“I don't mind.” I can't look at Mom. I don't even want to know how much trouble I'm going to be in at home later. I can forget about ever going to school after this.

But Mom's surprisingly calm. She doesn't freak out at the rink. She doesn't yell at me in the car. It's not until we're almost home that she finally says something. And it's not even
a lecture on how I'm throwing away my career and everything she and Dad worked so hard for.

“You've done a lot of things recently I never—
never
—in a million years thought my little girl would do. But crashing a Zamboni is not one of them.” She gives me a sideways look from the driver's seat. “I'm pretty sure I know who you're covering for. And I don't want you hanging around him anymore.”

I look out the window. “That won't be a problem.” The fact that he didn't step in at all even though he heard me confessing the truth makes me want to never even look at him again.

Mom touches my arm lightly. “I'm worried about you, Kaitlin. You know you can talk to me.”

“I'm fine.” I wish I could cry on Mom's shoulder about everything—Braedon, having zero chance at Regionals, all the trouble I've gotten into. But she'd want to fix everything
her
way. Which would only make it all worse.

“I wish you'd tell Greg the truth.”

“I did. I just want to concentrate on Regionals and forget this ever happened.”

Mom sighs. “I can't argue with that.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Before I know it, it's
Friday and I'm following Mom through the Regionals chaos at the Indianapolis rink. I rub my eyes. I haven't been able to catch up on sleep, since I stayed up practically all night on Thursday plotting last-minute details for the party with Miyu and everyone else in the club. Between party planning, working on the most amazing gift I've ever thought of, avoiding Braedon, and skating practice, I've barely slept all week.

I try not to think about how my entire season—my entire career—hangs on this one competition. But weirdly enough, I'm even more nervous about the party. Mostly about whether anyone will even show up.

My program. The practice session I'm about to step into. That's what I need to think about right now. Not the party, or
how I'm going to completely lose Mom's trust in order to make it happen.

“What's going on, Kaitlin?” Greg asks as I glide to the boards to get a sip of water after crashing for the third time on my double axel. “You can do that jump in your sleep.”

“Nerves, I guess.” I shake my arms out. “Should I try it again?”

Greg shakes his head. “Wait until they play your music. Work on your footwork instead.”

I skate away as he calls after me, “And emote!”

The rest of the practice doesn't go much better. Greg doesn't think I'm tango-y enough, the double axel is still a disaster, and I even manage to trip myself going into a camel spin.

“Get some rest today. I'll see you tomorrow,” Greg says.

I sigh and pick up my stuff from the boards. If I skate like that during the qualifying round tomorrow, I'll totally deserve last place.

“You don't have anything to be nervous about,” Dad says when he and Mom meet me at the doors. “You're a great skater.”

“Why don't we go back to the hotel, and you can walk through your program on the floor? That might help,” Mom says.

I can't do that. We scheduled the party to start at five, and
I have to meet everyone else from the club in ten minutes to decorate the party room. “I told Miyu I'd meet her for dinner at the snack bar. And then we're going to watch the competition together.” The novice ladies' qualifying rounds are going on for the next few hours on the other ice surface. That should buy me just enough time. And Mom knows how much I love watching the higher levels.

“The snack bar?” Mom frowns. “That's not very healthy.”

“They have fruit. And vegetable soup.”

“That sounds fine to me,” Dad says.

Mom gives him a look. “Okay. Dad and I will be back to pick you up at eight. You need a good night's rest for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Mom!” I race to the dressing room, leaving my parents staring after me. I yank my skates off, wipe them down as fast as I can, and throw my shoes on. I make sure to put everything in my locker this time.

Still in my practice dress, I squeeze through the crowd to a short hallway lined with rooms. Each door has a plastic sign on it with a goofy skating name: the Stick and Puck Room, the Triple Axel Room. The lights are on in the biggest room at the very end—the Olympic Room. I peek into the windowed door, and . . . wow.

Inside, Miyu, Jessa, Addison, and a bunch of other kids
from the club are running around, moving tables and chairs and hanging up decorations. No Braedon. I push open the door and step in.

“What do you think?” Miyu's arranging some two-liter soda bottles on a table.

I hug my arms against my damp dress. “It's amazing. Addison really hooked us up. This isn't at all what I expected.” I take in the giant TV, the stereo system, and the disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

“I know, right? Wait till you see the different-colored lights.”

“I'm sorry I'm late.” Seeing everyone working so hard to pull off this party more than makes up for the awful practice I just had.

Miyu waves a hand at me. “You're not. I just thought we could get started while you had your practice.”

“Kaitlin, finally!” Addison walks up to me in a huff, with an older girl I don't recognize. “You're still in your practice clothes? Gross. Who wears a sweaty skating dress to a party?”

I ignore her. Nothing she can say bothers me now. Besides, we're at a skating rink party, not a tea party at the Plaza Hotel. Although Addison could totally show up there in her pink skirt and sweater. And is that a real diamond pendant necklace?

“Hello? Christina needs that movie or whatever it is you want put on the TV.” Addison points to the seriously huge wide-screen on the wall, with a little skate icon dancing around as a screen saver.

“I have it.” Miyu pulls the DVD from her pocket and hands it to Addison. “Thanks . . . Christina?”

“Yeah, I work here,” Christina says. She tucks a strand of long black hair behind an ear. “Used to skate with Addy until she left us for you guys.”

“Addy?” I say once Christina's left with the DVD.

Addison narrows her eyes. “Call me that and die.”

“Has anyone seen Braedon?” Not that I want to see him, but I really hope he was able to get invitations out to everyone. Otherwise, this is all pointless.

Miyu shakes her head.

A hint of a smile flits across Addison's face. That gloaty, smug smile. “I just talked to him. He's taking care of the ­invitations.”

“Great. Hey, I think Jessa needs help with the streamers.” Miyu points across the room.

Addison takes the hint, giving me one last smirk before she leaves.

“Can't we uninvite her?” I ask Miyu. I know I don't care
anymore if Addison likes Braedon or he likes her, and I have the upper hand since I owned up to the Zamboni crash. But still. That doesn't mean I want to actually spend time in the same room as her.

“Probably not. I mean, since she got us this room and she's part of Fallton and everything. Unfortunately.” Miyu hands me a bag of chips and a bowl.

I pour the chips into the bowl—and a few into my mouth, since I'm starving. Everyone's talking, and I can practically feel their excitement about the party. I close my eyes and will that excitement to push away all my worries—my program, Mom finding out about this party, the fear that no one will even show up to the party, the thought that I still might kind of like Braedon even though he's a total jerk.

“Kaitlin, I know that practice was exhausting, but you seriously cannot take a nap right now.” Miyu thrusts a box of cookies into my hands.

I finish helping Miyu with the food. At five o'clock, everything is ready. The Olympic Room has silver stars and streamers and balloons in every color hanging from the ceiling. Samantha sent along some amazing signs for the walls that say things like,
SKATE GREAT!
and
JUMP HIGH! SPIN FAST!
Music pumps from the speakers. And on the huge TV,
the video I made runs on a loop.

“You guys, this is . . . it's incredible.” I turn around so no one can see me wipe away the tears that popped up.

“It was your idea,” Jessa says. “We only helped.”

“And I told you it was a bad idea,” Addison says from next to the TV. “See, it's past five, and no one's here. They aren't coming.”

I cross fingers on both of my hands in the hopes that ­Braedon actually invited everyone. Anyone competing in novice ladies obviously won't be here, since that's happening now, but there are still four other levels of skaters, plus everyone from the lower levels doing the nonqualifying competition—hundreds of kids. Where are they? Minutes tick by, and still no one shows up. I feel a little sick to my stomach. If everyone went through this much trouble for the party, and we don't have any guests . . . I'll feel awful.

“What are we going to do if no one comes?” I ask Miyu.

“Well, I think we should still have the party. All of Fallton is here, and we already have food and music. Who cares if no one else comes? We'll show them what they're missing.” She's actually grinning at me.

I smile back. She's right. Why let a good party go to waste? It won't be the same, but we can still have fun. But now I wish I'd taken an extra five minutes and put something else on. I'm
freezing in my damp practice dress.

“Someone's coming!” a younger girl shouts from the door.

“Quick, everyone act like we're having the best time in the world,” I say. People group off and start talking and laughing like we've been party-hardy this whole time.

Braedon appears in the doorway. “What'd I miss?”

One of the older guys groans. “It's just Braedon,” he announces. “Dude, we thought you were one of the other ­skaters.”

“They're coming,” Braedon says. “Don't worry about that. They all got a text message about an hour ago.”

“How did you get everyone's phone numbers?” Miyu asks.

I'm pretty sure it involved stealing or hacking into someone's computer. Otherwise, Braedon wouldn't have volunteered for the job.

“I might've borrowed the contact list for the entire competition,” he says.

Borrowed. Right.

“You realize the phone numbers on that list are probably for parents?” Miyu says.

Braedon shrugs. “Doesn't matter. I already heard buzz building in the lobby about the party. They'll be here.”

If their parents don't blab on us to our parents. Leave it
to Braedon to get everyone into trouble. I busy myself with rearranging the plates and cups on the closest table and wish he would just go away.

No luck. He's breathing over my shoulder. “This is a great idea, Double Axel.”

“Don't call me that,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Sorry. Anything else I can do to help?” He's acting like everything is completely normal.

“No.”

He's silent for a moment, and I kind of hope that means he'll take the hint and disappear.

“Wow, that's an awful clip of my triple salchow,” he says.

I turn around. He's watching my video on the TV, and he's got his joking face on. But this is Braedon—always saying or doing something that hurts someone else. “I made that video,” I tell him.

He drops the smile. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you. It's a good video, really.”

I ignore him and rub my hands on my arms to try to warm up.

“Are you cold? Do you need a jacket?” he asks.

“No, I don't need your jacket.” I drop my arms and take a step toward the door to see if anyone might be coming.

He taps me on the shoulder. “Kaitlin, what's wrong? I've barely seen you all week.”

“Nothing,” I say without turning around.

He steps in front of me. “Are you mad about the Zam?”

I look around him.

“You know, you're really annoying sometimes,” he says. “If you're angry at me, just say it already.”

Irritation rises up inside me and threatens to spill, the way it did in Praterville and when Mom and Greg wouldn't listen to me about the Zamboni. “Why are you here? You don't care about the competition or the club or me or even your own skating.”

Braedon takes a step back. “I care about the club. Didn't I just invite everyone to this party? And . . . I thought we were friends.”

The words fly out of my mouth before I even realize what I'm saying. “Really? Then why are you always doing stupid things and getting me in trouble? I should've known when I followed you doing that chicken dance and almost broke Addison's nose. But I thought you liked— Never mind.” My face goes warm.

He crosses his arms. “We were just having fun.”

“And crashing the Zamboni was fun?” All the chill from wearing a wet dress is gone, and my skin feels like it's sizzling.

“Well, not that part. But no one even knew we were there. At least they didn't until you told Greg.”

I laugh. A few of the people around us stop talking.

But I don't really care. I'm on fire and I need to throw some sparks at Braedon. “That's funny. Ha-ha. Who knows what kind of job I'm going to have to do to pay back the rink? But don't worry, no one knows
you
were there. Except Addison, and she doesn't care.”

Braedon turns to look at Addison, who's suddenly really interested in the tape holding one of Samantha's signs to the wall.

“Why did you tell on yourself?” he asks me in a soft voice.

“I had to. I'm not like you. It turns out that I can't go around lying and pretending everything is okay when it's not. Now, if you don't mind, I need to see if anyone is coming.” I take a step toward Miyu, who's moved in close like she's ready to jump in and yell at Braedon if I need her to. “And please leave me alone,” I toss over my shoulder.

Miyu walks with me toward the door. We step out into the empty hallway. “Are you all right?” she asks.

I let out a breath. “I think so. I can't believe I said all that.” The heat is gone, and I'm freezing again. I'm light-headed and my legs are like jelly. But I feel good, as if I can do anything in the world.