On Thin Ice (Editing)

Chapter 13

“Violet, wake up,” a voice calls gently.  I blink until my eyes adjust to the light streaming through my window, and find my mom smiling down at me.  I frown, because she and I obviously aren’t on the greatest terms.  “Missy called, she says you’re late.  I thought the rink didn’t open for a few hours, though.  What does she need you this early for?”

My mind drifts to the skating lesson that Missy and I have planned for this morning.  Competition is less than a week away, and I’m running out of time for this routine.  “There’s a camp this morning,” I lie, hopping out of bed and running over to my closet.  “Kids and ice skating, you know.”

“Oh, that’s excellent,” she grins, sitting on the edge of my bed and watching me run around, trying to get ready.  “Are you an instructor now?  I didn’t think you were much into skating anymore.”

“I’m not an instructor,” I snort.  “I bring concessions to the kids, zamboni the ice, and help them pick skates that aren’t three sizes too big.”

She frowns and I nod at the door, hoping she gets the idea that she needs to leave so I can get dressed.  “That’s a shame - you could do a lot better than that,” she tells me before opening my door and stepping outside.  “By the way, I washed Duncan’s things for him.  Tell him to stop by again soon.”

I glance near the door to find a pile of folded hockey warmups.  Those aren’t Duncan’s, they’re Vincent’s - but of course, my mom doesn't know that.  Just like she doesn’t know about my lesson with Missy this morning.  It’s like I’m leading a double life.

Well shit, I’m Hannah Montana.  

Except, I don’t really get the best of both worlds.  I’m exhausted all the time, I barely have any friends, my family life sucks, and Duncan hates me.  Living a double life isn’t nearly as glamorous as Miley made it seem.

In a rush, I throw on a leotard over my tights and a pair of soffe shorts over that.  I pull my hair into a tight knot on my head and shove my hockey gear under the bed.  Mom will think I took it to Duncan, but I don’t actually need it today, since there isn’t practice.  Once I gather all of my things, I sprint downstairs, stopping short when I realize that I’m already late and have no means of transportation except for walking.  I consider asking my mom for a ride, but that might lead to her wanting to come inside, see Missy, or something like that.  Then she would see that there isn’t actually a skating camp going on, will ask questions, and then my entire life would be ruined.  And that’s only a slight exaggeration.

I tell myself to suck it up and rush out the door, only to see an old, red convertible in the driveway, Ally behind the wheel.  “Get in loser,” she grins, nodding her head at the seat next to her.  “We’re going skating.”

I laugh and hop into the passenger seat, smiling at the younger boy in the back.  “How did you know I needed a ride?” I ask her, relaxing into the seat.

“Missy called me, asking if I knew where you were,” she tells me, rolling her eyes.  “You know how she gets close to competitions.”

“That’s for sure,” I snort, tucking a flyaway hair behind my ear.  After a few more strands are knocked loose from the wind, I give up and enjoy the ride.