Cinderella in Skates (2 page)

"A great idea!" Shane's father adds.
 

But I'm just staring at Shane, wondering who the heck this guy is and what planet beamed him into our foyer. I mean, who
does
this? He's known us for all of maybe seven minutes and he's already offered to help move our furniture and bring us blankets.
 

Come to think of it, I really don't want to go to bed tonight on the floor without at least something to sleep under. And I don't even have a sweatshirt for that.
 

"We can't ask you to do that," Mom says, and I swing my head around to glare at her. I know there's something to be said for manners and all, but come on. This is already hard enough.
 

"It isn't a big deal," Joe jumps in. "Shane will be happy to do it."
 

"Natalie, why don't you go with him to help?" Dad suggests.
 

"In this?" I look down at my shorts and his button-down sweater he'd given me to warm up in.
 

"I'm sure it isn't far," he says. "It'll toughen you up some, get you used to this Wisconsin weather."
 

I look over at Shane, and he's smiling back at me.
 

"Come on, it's just three doors down," he says. "We'll make a run for it."
 

I grimace but know I don't have much of a choice. "Okay. Lead the way."

I follow Shane out the front door and down the porch steps and my legs feel like they're instantly freezing.

"How do you survive out here?" I mutter.

He looks back at me and smiles. "It's November. If you think this is bad, just wait until January."
 

"I can't believe it's snowing on my first day here." I shake my head. "Unreal."
 

"Get used to it," he says. "And besides, it's fun to play in."
 

He's walking quickly down the slippery sidewalk, and I'm trying to step in his footprints to avoid getting wet, slushy snow inside my sneakers. There isn't much accumulation yet, maybe just an inch or so, but I'm not taking any chances. I don't want to get hypothermia running down the street.
 

My teeth start chattering uncontrollably, and I try to clamp them together to stop it.

"That really happens," I say.

"What?"

"The teeth thing. They've never chattered before. I thought it was made up."
 

Shane laughs. "Come on, we're already here."
 

I follow him up the sidewalk leading to a lovely Victorian-style home with a wraparound porch. Lights glow through the front windows muted by sheer curtains, and it looks so warm and comfortable and snuggly that I forget for a second that it isn't the Spanish-style architecture of curved red tiled roofs and stucco fronts that I'm used to seeing back in Phoenix.
 

Shane pushes open the door to his house and holds it open for me. I practically sprint through and bend over to start rubbing the feeling back into my legs.
 

"The blankets are back here."
 

I follow him through a maze of hallways until he stops in front of a linen closet and starts pulling blankets off a shelf. He hands a few to me and keeps some in his own arms.
 

"Here, wrap yourself up in this one for the walk back," he says, taking the blankets in my arms and putting them aside. He shakes out the top one and I turn around so he can drape it around my shoulders.

"Thanks," I say, smiling at him. "That might actually help."
 

He nods. "So is this the first time you've seen snow?" He picks up the rest of the blankets and we walk back toward the front of the house.
 

"Yeah. Believe it or not, it snows in northern Arizona a lot. There are ski resorts and stuff up there, but we never went."
 

"You'll have to try skiing sometime. It's really fun."
 

"I prefer lying poolside in the winter."
 

He laughs and opens the front door. "I bet you do. Come on, let's get this over with."
 

We hurry back toward my new house, me following his footsteps once again as he shows me the way. It isn't quite as cold this time, not with the blanket wrapped around me, but the snow falls faster, harder, and it already feels like there's more of it on the ground.
 

"Your dad and my dad have known each other for awhile, I guess."
 

"Yeah," he says. "They played for Wisconsin on the hockey team together. I'm surprised you didn't know."
 

I try to shrug, but it's hard with the heavy blanket resting across my shoulders. "I knew he played, but I guess I didn't really want a lot of details about the move."
 

Shane nods. "You weren't happy about it. Makes sense."
 

Finally, finally, finally, we're climbing up the steps to our house and I'm vowing to never go outside in Wisconsin again without wearing a warm pair of pants and heavy jacket.
"This is really lovely of you and your son, Joe," Mom says, taking the blankets from Shane and me. "I can't thank you enough."
 

Joe waves her off. "It's nothing at all, Wendy, really." He turns to his son. "What are your plans for tomorrow? Phil and I thought you could show Natalie around downtown Madison."
 

"I told Coach Van I'd stop by his scrimmage."
 

"Down at the high school? Why don't you take Natalie with you?"

Shane looks over at me without hesitation. "Want to come?"

"What is it?"

"Hockey," he says. "My old high school team. You can come see them play with me."

"She'd love to!" My father speaks up before I even have a chance to think about it. He glances over at me. "What, Natbat? It's not like you have anything else to do tomorrow. And I know you'll love the game once you give it a chance."
 

I sigh. He's right. I don't have anything else to do. And if I have to live here, it probably won't kill to me to get to know a few people, and Shane doesn't seem like the worst place to start, even if I have to deal with clammy palms when he's around.

"Okay," I say, looking over at him. "I mean, if you don't mind."
 

Shane shakes his head and smiles. "Definitely not. The game's at noon so I'll stop by around eleven."
 

Dad beams. "Wonderful! See, Natalie? Everything's going to be just fine."
 

CHAPTER TWO

True to his word, Shane pulls up along the curb of our new house at 10:50 the next morning.

I'm tired and there are huge purple bags under both of my eyes. I didn't sleep so great on the floor last night and if not for Shane's blankets, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all.

"Morning," he says as I buckle myself into the passenger seat of his blue Toyota.

"What happened to all the snow?"

It's a beautiful morning. Even I can't find a way to deny that, and I'm all for complaining about Wisconsin and its weather. It's nearly sixty degrees, the sun shines bright and happy and warm, and it's hard to believe that just a few hours ago, I'd be convinced I was going to lose one of my limbs to frostbite. It's almost like the perfect winter day back in Phoenix, and it's weird to experience it here.

I don't want any reason to like this place, and today isn't helping my cause.
 

Shane grins. "I told you last night it wasn't a big deal."

"Tell that to my poor frozen legs," I mutter back, and he laughs.

"Ready for some hockey?"

"I don't really know anything about it."
 

"Lucky for you, you've got one college hockey all-star ready and willing to teach you everything you've ever wanted to know about the game."
 

"That shouldn't take too long."
 

He glances over at me. "You okay, Natalie?"

I shrug, realizing that maybe my snarky attitude is just a little too much. It isn't his fault I'm stuck here, and he's just trying to be nice.

I mean, I'm in a car with a hot guy who wants to take me to a hockey game. It could be a lot worse for my first full day in town, right?

"Yeah, just not sure what to expect," I say, trying to put some enthusiasm in my voice.

Shane raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything as we drive through the neighborhood.

It's my first look at Madison in daylight, and without snow...well, I don't want to admit that it isn't the most terrible thing I've ever seen. It's not Phoenix, don't get me wrong, but as far as places to live go? Maybe it isn't the worst.
 

We'll see.

"So, um, this is a high school game you said?" I ask as he makes a left turn out of our development and onto a busier road.
 

"Not really," he replies without looking over at me. "Just a scrimmage with guys who are trying out for the team. I graduated two years ago, but Coach likes to have me talk to his players. Proof that hard work has its rewards, you know? Something like that, I guess."

I nod. "Yeah, that makes sense."
 

"It's fun to go back," he continues.
 
"But there are times I just want to leave it behind for good."

I'm not sure how to respond, but there's something in his voice, maybe the way it strains ever so slightly when he says it, that makes me feel like there's a real story itching to be told.
 

"I guess that's where you and I are different," I finally say because the silence is getting too long and too weird.

"What do you mean?"

"You want to get away from where you grew up. And I'd give anything to go back."

This time he looks over at me. "I didn't say that."
 

"I--no, I guess you didn't. Sorry. I just assumed."
 

"Well, don't," he says, and I blink at the bite in his voice. "I love it here. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
 

"Okay. Okay. Um, sorry."
 

He drums his fingers along the top of the steering wheel. "No," he says, blowing out a breath. "I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything."
 

"Okay." I'm afraid to say something else out of fear of upsetting him again without meaning to.
 

We ride the rest of the way to his high school in silence, and it isn't the comfortable, lazy, easy kind.

When he parks and shuts off the car, I immediately hop out and when I turn around, he's still sitting in the driver's seat, forehead resting between his thumb and index finger, almost like he has a headache and needs to psych himself up for what he's about to do.

I know I haven't known Shane for very long, but I also know enough about trusting my instincts, and right now, they're screaming at me. He isn't happy about this, isn't happy to be here. I don't know why or what caused it, but for all his insistence that everything's just jolly...well, I'm not buying it.

Then again, I did only meet him yesterday. Maybe this is just how he is.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of the car door slamming shut.

"Ready?" he asks me, a smile painted on his face.

"Isn't it kind of weird for a high school to have its own ice rink?" I ask as we walk through the cold halls of the building.
 

"No," he says. "Not in Wisconsin, anyway. Come on, I'll introduce you to Coach Van before the scrimmage."

I follow him down a chilly corridor and through a swinging door, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in a locker room, and my eyes widen as I look around, expecting to see half-naked guys swinging towels around their heads and smacking each other on the butt with them.

Isn't that what happens in the boys' locker room?

But it's empty.

And kind of eerie.

"This way," Shane says, leading me through the maze of lockers toward the back of the room where three dimly lit offices line the wall.
 

"That who I think it is?" A voice booms, echoing throughout the empty locker room. "Shane Stanford! The Golden Stallion of West High! Good to see you, son."

A tall, tanned man wearing a black suit and a purple tie strolls into view and claps a blushing Shane on the back. Even I have to work to hide my smile at the Golden Stallion thing.
 

"Hey, Coach," Shane says calmly. "How's it goin'?"

"Oh, fine, fine, I think the team's got a real shot at the state championship this season," he replies. "Even without your sharp shooting." The coach flicks his eyes over to me. "You bringing a girl around these days? Never would've expected that from you, kid."
 

Shane shakes his head. "This is Natalie," he says. "She just moved onto our street. Actually, she's Phil Melter's daughter."
 

I don't expect my dad's name to mean anything to Coach Van, but he looks over at me with renewed interest.
 

"Melter's kid, eh?" he says. "Good for him. He moved back to the area, then?"

"Yeah, to teach at the university."
 

Coach Van nods thoughtfully. "Well, great. That's lovely. Do you play the beautiful game yourself?"

"Oh, no," I say. "Ice isn't that easy to come by in Phoenix."
 

"Nonsense. Ice is everywhere," he replies. "You've got professional hockey out there. I'm surprised Joe didn't turn you into a little hockey maven."
 

I'm not really sure what to say as he stares at me, obviously not pleased that I'm the daughter of a hockey player and still don't know the first thing about the game he loves.
 

"That's why she's got me, Coach," Shane jumps in, and I'm grateful he's taken the reins on this one. "I'm going to teach her everything she needs to know."
 

Coach Van gives me one last disapproving look before focusing his attention on Shane. "Good," he says with a curt nod. "Game starts in fifteen. I better get out there, talk to the guys. Catch you later, Stanford."