Page 17 of Ice Princesses
“Why is it so slippery today?”
I glide closer while she shuffles her way towards the middle of the sheet with the slow determination of someone who refuses to fall, even if it kills her.
When she reaches the middle, she rests her coffee cup on the ice and exhales dramatically. She lies down, flat on her back, exactly as I was earlier.
“What are you doing?”
I blink down at my sister, waiting for her response.
“Testing your theory,” she says, and closes her eyes to take a deep breath.
“Which one of my theories?”
She smiles, the corner of her lip rising slowly. “That this helps you think.”
I circle around her, my blades tracing a wide, lazy arc.
“Well?” I ask.
“What did Armand want? I just saw him getting in the car as I was walking in.”
I clear my throat and stop at her feet. Her eyes are still closed and she has her hands resting on her stomach. “He said something about optics. It felt almost like he was threatening to tell our parents? It was weird.”
“Jesus,” she mutters.
“I think he thinks Ascend is an experiment. A little game to distract me for the summer,” I say.
Finally, Nina opens her eyes and looks at me.
“Itisan experiment.”
“Not the kind he meant, though.”
“No,” she agrees.
The quiet settles again. I lie next to my sister and look up at the rafters.
Pierce. Pierce. Pierce.
“You know what he actually means,” she says after a moment.
“That we shouldn’t do it.”
“No, that we shouldn't do it without them.” Her gaze turns to the banners above us and she takes a deep breath. “That’s unfortunate.”
“I don’t know, Nin?—”
“You know what the funniest part is?” she interrupts me, and I see that sneaky smile on her face. “You spent twenty years building a dynasty for this sport.”
She gestures vaguely upward towards the banners.
“You are a much better athlete than both of our parents combined.” She’s using her fingers to count. “And now you’re about to burn the system down.”
I shake my head and laugh, the deep sound vibrating through the rink. The lights over the bleachers are slowly blinking on, and it’s a matter of minutes before the first skaters take the ice and start running through their training programs. “That’s dramatic.”
“Is it?”
I don’t answer. Because somewhere in the back of mymind, the image of Rodrigo’s skate flashes again. The power in the takeoff. The joy in the landing. And the quiet certainty in Cecilia’s voice guiding him from the boards.
