On Your Toes| Ongoing

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

SIX YEARS AGO...

Darren's frozen breaths stain the air before dispersing into nothingness. He clutched the hard white plastic of his hockey stick in his right hand, scanning the indoor ice rink full of people. A clash of differently patterned winter coats and hats, young and old, families and couples fluttered throughout the space.

"I thought you said that the rink would be empty today?" Darren asked his brother, Splinter, his cheeks blushing red from the slight cold.

Splinter shrugged. "I thought it would be. It's Tuesday! Who the hell comes to a skating rink on a Tuesday."

Darren gave his brother a look and gestured between the two of them with the short end of his stick. "Us."

"Oh shut up."

A little over on his left, he spotted a girl seated on the top of the silver bleachers. She had warm brown skin and her dark hair was braided into a long ponytail. She was dressed in a black puffer jacket and light-washed skinny jeans. Her side profile revealed to Darren the unbothered expression she showed the man yelling at her.

A ringing sound disrupted his thoughts. He turned back to Splinter, seeing him wrestle in his deep jacket pockets for his phone. He pulled it out a few seconds later and answered the call. "Hey, Dad...."

Darren zoned him out for the time being, glimpsing back at the girl. The man—possibly her father— was still yelling at her, attracting the attention of a few bystanders yet no one intervened.

Splinter snapped twice in Darren's face to get the attention of his younger brother. "I have to head back home really quick. You wanna stay here or come with me?"

Eyes flickered toward the girl once again, he hands his hockey stick to Splinter and says, "Umm... I think I'm gonna stick around for a while."

"Okay. Let me know if you want me to pick you up. Otherwise, be home before dark," Splinter tells him, ruffling Darren's dirty blond hair.

Darren didn't watch his brother exit the building. Instead, while holding his skates in his hand, he walked closer to the bleachers and finally got an earful of the conversation he had been observing.

"Ivy put on the damn skates. I'm not going to tell you again," the man demands. The veins under his warm sandy skin are bulging, the skin of his neck reddening. The girl— Ivy— doesn't budge. She seemed to be looking past him, her knees perched and her chin rested in her palms uncaring.

When he realizes that Ivy wasn't going to move, he launches the skates at her. Both Darren and Ivy flinch as the skates collide with the metal seat bar below her feet, startling the girl. "God, Ivan! I just wanted to spend time with you and your sister but noooo, you had to be selfish and ruin it for everyone."

Those didn't even have blade covers on them! He could have seriously hurt her, Darren wanted to scream at him so badly that he didn't even notice the name switch. Did anybody see what he did? Why weren't they doing anything about it? He wanted to say something but what could he do? He was just a fifteen-year-old kid, what could he do against a grown man twice his size with obvious rage issues.

"Don't. Call. Me. That," Ivy spits out, slamming her hands beside her. That same anger the man was displaying was wiggling inside her. Darren could see it just from the way she clenched her jaw and gripped the seat. "You're causing a scene. Go skate with Manny before these people get the wrong idea and decide to call the police."

He stares at her for a moment, expression hardened and unwavering. Ivy was the same. A moment later, the man grunted and caved in. He didn't look back as he headed into the ice rink. Ivy sighed and relaxed her perched shoulders. Tired of waiting on the sidelines, Darren took large steps up the bleachers and seated himself a reasonable distance from Ivy.