Breaking the Ice (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“What in the world?” Miyu says.

“Do you have a secret boyfriend?” Sydney demands as she hits pause on the movie. “Only secret boyfriends come knock at girls' windows.”

“No stupid boy better ever knock on my window,” Jane says.

Miyu rolls her eyes. “I do
not
have a secret boyfriend. Or any boyfriend.”

“Maybe it's Mark Benson,” I say, remembering how ­Sydney was sort of cooing over him earlier.

“Ooh! Go look.” Sydney pulls Miyu up from the floor. Miyu
takes the whole three steps to her window and raises the blinds.

“Seriously?” she says. “Why are you here?”

“Is it Mark?” Sydney crowds over Miyu's shoulder. “That's not Mark. Who is that? He's cute.”

Jane looks at me. I shrug. Together we get up and see who the mystery guy at Miyu's window is. I stand on my tiptoes to peek over Miyu's other shoulder.

Braedon's leaning against the big oak tree just outside the window. “Are you guys playing Truth or Dare? I pick dare. What do I have to do? Eat six jalapeño peppers? Prank call someone?”

Miyu just shakes her head. I'm pretty sure she's rolling her eyes, too, even though I can't see her face.

Sydney elbows me. “Where did he come from?” she whispers.

“
He
came from the rink. And now he'd better go home.” Miyu starts to pull her window down.

Braedon leaps forward. “Wait a second. I'm here to talk to Kaitlin.”

He came to see me? I kind of wish I hadn't eaten those carrots. They feel like they're tangoing in my stomach right now.

“Do you need me to punch him?” Jane asks me.

I shake my head.

“She has a phone. You can call her,” Miyu says out the window.

“Miyu!” Sydney pushes her a little sideways. “Hey there,” she says to Braedon with a smile. “Kaitlin's here.” She grabs my arm and pulls me into Miyu's spot.

“Just tell him to go away,” Miyu says before she moves back to stand with Jane.

“Hey, Double Axel.” Braedon pushes his hair out of his eyes.

Sydney sighs. I totally get it. He makes me want to sigh too.

“Hi,” is all I say.

He smiles at me. “Can I come in?”

I open my mouth, but Miyu speaks first. “No! This is my room. You can't barge in like it's some random locker room at the rink.”

Braedon laughs a little. “Well, then, can you come outside?” he asks me.

“Um . . .”

“She's hanging out with us, and she's not into sneaking out,” Miyu says from behind me.

Sydney reaches back to swat at Miyu, while I stare at Braedon and try to form words.

“Kaitlin?” Braedon shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Um . . . sure.” I glance back at Miyu, who looks like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “Just for a few minutes.”

Sydney practically squeals with excitement as she helps me push up the screen and climb through the window. My feet dangle for a second before I drop to the ground.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I just climbed out of a window to see a guy. Miyu's frowning at me from the window. Mom would completely lose it if she found out.

What's wrong with me?

But it's not like I'm running off somewhere with him. I just came outside to talk for a few minutes. That's not so bad, right?

“Come
on
, Syd. Give them some privacy already.” Jane pulls a grinning Sydney away from the window.

“Just knock when you're ready to come back in,” Miyu says as she pulls the screen back into place. “But if you're not back in fifteen minutes, I'm coming out there.” With that, she thumps the window down and disappears into her room.

I follow Braedon around the other side of the tree. The sun is starting to set across the street, and the light makes his face look orange. Which means it's probably making my face orange too. I turn my head toward the tree to try to cut down on the Oompa Loompa look.

“I'm going to Burger Hut. You want to come?” he asks.

Yes!
I want to yell. But instead I cross my arms and glance back at Miyu's window. “I would, but I'm at this sleepover. . . .”

Braedon shrugs. “They'll still be here when you get back.”

True, but it seems super rude to take off with Braedon when I'm supposed to be hanging out with Miyu and her friends. And then there's the whole sneaking out thing.

“Sorry . . . I should stay here. We have food inside.”

“Rabbit food, I bet,” he says. “A big plate full of lettuce, carrots, celery, raw broccoli. Yum.” He rubs a hand over his stomach.

I laugh. “How'd you guess? But we have chips, too.”

“You know you'd rather have a big, greasy burger and fries.” He stretches an arm out to prop himself against the tree.

“Maybe another time?” As soon as I say it, I can't believe it came out of my mouth. I'm making a date with Braedon.

“Okay.” He doesn't say anything about when.

“Okay,” I repeat. “See you at the rink. I should . . . um . . . get back inside.” I motion at the window.

Braedon walks with me around the tree. “Thanks for braving the wrath of Miyu to come out and talk to me.”

I smile as I knock on the window. “Anytime.”

He disappears as Miyu lifts the glass and the screen. I find
a brick that sticks out a little more than the others on the side of Miyu's house and use it to hoist myself back inside.

Once I'm in, Sydney peppers me with questions. “Who is that? Is he your boyfriend? Where does he go to school? How'd you meet him? How does he get his hair to look like that?”

Even Jane, who was ready to punch him in the nose, looks interested. It's fun, sharing this stuff. And it's nice not talking about skating all the time.

This is what it would be like if I went to school.

“Sorry,” I say to Miyu when Sydney starts the movie again. “I know you don't like him.”

“I don't care about him,” Miyu says. “It's you I'm worried about.”

That makes zero sense. “There's nothing to worry about. I'm okay.”

As the movie rolls on, I'm only paying half attention to it. I'm wondering if Miyu's being worried about me has something to do with what she said back at Pizza Supreme—that Braedon isn't serious about skating or anything.

But as hard as I think, I can't figure out how him not caring about his skating or his grades in school has anything to do with me.

While I'm warming up on the ice Tuesday morning, Braedon joins me. “How was the sleepover?” he asks.

“Fun.” I do a quick turn so I'm skating backward. “Did you get your burger and fries?”

“No, didn't want to go by myself. So that means you owe me a trip to Burger Hut. Maybe later this week?”

“Um, sure.” I shiver—and not from the cold of the rink. I pull up to the boards for a sip of water, since my throat is suddenly dry.

Addison skids to a stop next to us. “Hey, I want to show you something,” she says to Braedon.

“Double axel?” he asks. “Did you land it?”

“Maybe.” She smirks at me. “You'd better practice, Kaitlin. Fourteenth place won't get you to Nationals.” She grabs Braedon's arm. “Come on.”

And off they go, leaving me alone at the boards. Something sour rises into my throat. I definitely don't feel sorry for Addison anymore. I don't know what to think about Braedon. I thought he liked me, but maybe he just wants someone to eat burgers with.

Greg glides over while I'm watching Addison attempt double axels for Braedon. “Ready to work that program again?” he asks.

“I guess.” I pull my eyes away from Addison and Braedon and try to focus on Greg.

“I know you're disappointed about the competition.”

“I thought I'd skated better than that,” I say.

“Your elements were perfect. It was your disconnect from the music that landed you in fourteenth place.”

“What if . . .” I don't know. It feels like whining to ask Greg if the real reason might be my outburst at Praterville.

Greg raises an eyebrow. “What if what?”

I stab at the ice with my toe pick. “What if it's because the judges don't like me? Because of what I said to them? I know it's not the same judges, but I'm sure they talk to each other.”

Greg sighs. “Well, you didn't make it any easier for yourself with that reaction. But you sent apology letters, right?”

I nod.

“Then you've done all you can to fix that mistake. Now you have to focus on the future. If you wow them—if you skate a program that gets to their souls—they can't help but give you the scores you deserve. But you have to work for it. Are you willing to work for it?”

“Yes. Definitely. I want to go to Nationals more than anything. But I tried in Chicago, and I couldn't do it. The emotional thing, I mean.”

“It's in there.” Greg taps his chest. “You just have to find a way to bring what's inside to the outside. Pull it out and let it work through you, to every part of your body, even your fingertips.”

He starts the music, and I try to tango with my fingertips. Addison's mom is in her usual spot on the bleachers, watching her daughter's every move. I pretend she's a judge. How do I make her feel my program in her soul? How did Baby show everyone the way she felt in that last dance in
Dirty Dancing
?

When the music ends, Greg shakes his head. “You've got the technical skills. We just need to make you a dancer. And we've got about three weeks to do it.”

“I'm doing the tango classes, but I usually end up dancing with Addison. And I took that ice dance lesson, like you said,” I tell him.

“Hmm. Maybe if you skated with a partner. An actual partner, not Addison.” Greg scans the rink. “Wait here a second.”

He glides to the boards, where Tom is chatting with Samantha. They talk for a second, and then Greg returns with Tom behind him.

Oh no. What is he going to make me do now? Whatever it is, it can't possibly be as bad as forced flirting with Braedon.
But at least Braedon is almost the same age as me. Tom has to be at least fifteen.

But I have to try. I promised Miyu. And I want Nationals so badly. If I don't keep trying, then there's no way I'll do any better at Regionals than I have at any other competitions lately. I guess this is what Greg meant when he said he thought the judges were pushing me. Maybe he's right. It's not like I insulted them
before
the Praterville competition. And I never got such low scores last year. At least I hope he's right. . . .

“You've learned the Canasta Tango, right?” Greg asks.

I nod. It's the second easiest dance—one that I'd learned a long time ago, and that Svetlana had me go through the week before the Chicago competition.

“Good. You're going to skate it with Tom. Take your cues from him.”

What does that mean? Tom grabs my hands and puts them in the right place. I'm glad I have gloves on, because my palms are all sweaty.

“Ready?” he asks. “Greg wants me to help you with your tango expression.”

The music starts, and he's almost dragging me along with him. I've never skated so fast in my life.

“You've got to look at me, not your feet,” he says over the music.

I can't help looking at my feet. I'm scared to death that I'll trip over my toe picks or kick him in the shin. But I have to do it or Greg will just make me dance with him again. Plus, maybe it will actually help my program. I drag my eyes up to Tom's face—and crack up.

Tom is looking at me with the most intense expression I've ever seen in my life.

“Kaitlin, you can't laugh,” he says, letting a little smile break through his Serious Tango Face. “Tango is all smoldering glances and passion.”

“I
know
,” I say. “Greg's only told me that five hundred times.”