Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I don’t understand how my grandpa let this rink get so shitty. While the ice is pristine, everything else is so run-down. The walls are white and chipping, the boards are all scuffed up and dented. The benches for skaters to sit on are rotten, and I had to pick a splinter out of my ass just last week. The same goes for the bleachers. They are the same from the ’90s, made of now-rotten wood, with big, open gaps between the seating rows that children can fall into. It’s not family-friendly, and I can’t coach under these conditions.
I took over coaching this week with my three skaters, and while they’re amazing kids with so much potential, I can’t enjoy myself because I hate seeing their families having to stand. I can’t help the feeling that they think they’re wasting their time and money because everything is so outdated. I want this to be comfortable, a home for my skaters.
Just as it is for me.
When I told this to Jett, he didn’t seem concerned. No matter what I want, he fights back. And today, I left before we could even reach a compromise. I couldn’t handle him anymore; all I wanted to do was blast some rage music and skate so that orange doesn’t become my only wardrobe color choice.
As I skate backward, my hair flying in the wind I’m making, I lose myself to the music. I allow myself to move to each beat, dancing and making up my own moves as I sing along to all my favorites. While I move, I almost consider bringing in Bea to help me, to convince Jett to agree with me. But I won’t show that kind of weakness.
If Jett wants to do battle, well, I have no issue going toe-to-toe with him.
Follow his lead, over my dead body.
I glare at nothing, my whole face scrunching up as I shift into a two-foot spin. I spin more times than required, but I need the rush. I love the feeling of almost falling. It makes me feel alive.
When I come out of the spin, I find that I’m not alone. A teenage girl leans on the bench, her dark reddish-brown hair up in a high ponytail with lots of strands falling in her eyes. As I come to a stop, I take in her bright-blue eyes, her cherubic cheeks, and with her size, she reminds me of me when I was her age. I put a smile on my face as I skate over to her. Her eyes widen, almost as if she’s coming out of a trance. She stands up straight as I reach her, and she looks so uncomfortable, I’m worried she’ll run.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I’m Fable. How are you?”
She gives me a timid smile. “Hi. Sorry, I saw you skating and wanted to come watch.”
“No problem. This wasn’t a closed skate. Do you skate?”
She shakes her head. “I play hockey, but I want to do what you do.”
“Why don’t you?”
She fiddles with the edge of her tee. It’s a Belles tee, so her dad or mom must play. “Um, that’s another reason why I came in,” she admits softly. “I’ve played hockey my whole life, but I just don’t like it. And when you took over the program, my dad suggested I come talk to you.”
I beam at her, and I notice she’s on skates. “Awesome. I’d love to work with you. Why don’t you come skate with me?”
Her eyes fill with excitement. “Really?”
“Really,” I agree, beckoning her out onto the ice. “But first, you gotta tell me your name.”
Her face flushes. “Skyye Moore.”
I bring in my brows as her features register. “Dean Moore’s your dad?”
She’s his twin, and she obviously adores him. Such pride fills her gaze. “Yup.”
I envy that look. I wish I were proud of who my dad is. Now, if you mention Kitty or my grandpa, I’m sure I have the same look. “I grew up with him.”
“Yeah, he told me, and it’s why he’s encouraging me to take up figure skating. Because of you.”
My heart warms as she comes out onto the ice. She’s a sweet girl, very shy, which is surprising with how rambunctious Dean was when we were kids. I remember him and Jett running amok through town and causing pure mayhem on the ice. They were like the Bash Brothers from the Mighty Ducks. Two meatheads running into everyone but then scoring like they didn’t just rock your world three seconds ago. It was a blast to watch.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize that, like Dean, she is very talented and easily coached. Every correction I have, she makes with ease. She listens, and after only an hour, I know I want to work with her. “What are your goals?”