Ravin Kline is TOTALLY Chill

The Forbidden Simon Showl

Turn, jump, whirl, land (barely), thank whatever divine force you believe in for allowing you to survive another failed double axel attempt. That is my current routine on ice. I'll warm up, an optimistic and liberated spirit flying above my head casting a peppy aura over me, and then I'll jump. Singles, doubles, and finally the imposing double axel. It'd frightened me since the beginning. It had always seemed so unattainable. But now it was right in my grasp. If only I could reach out, tighten my fingers around it, and hold it tight. The double axel required me to perform two and a half rotations in the air, starting forward and landing backward. Sometimes I forgot about the imperative "landing" step and collapsed against the boards after yet another uninvited collision with the unforgiving ice. The worst part? Simon was always eyeing me while I attempted the challenging skill. Simon was blessed with more attractiveness than he gave himself credit for, which made him infinitely more attractive. He had a tuft of wavy brown hair that swept over his head, the lean physique of a disciplined pair skater, and the cheekbones of a Greek god. Sometimes, I fantasized about tracing those arching structures onto a piece of paper and calling it a masterpiece, just like they were. But his charming appearance was not the reason his mere eye contact made me flush like a tomato. Simon was the golden boy of the rink. He volunteered to assist with baby penguin group lessons (a program designed to lure toddlers into the world of figure skating by making it seem enticing and easy. It only accurately advertised the former). He also had his triple salchow, toe loop, and the notorious double axel down to a craft. His jumps were distinctly loose and flowy, but still rigid enough for him to rotate "like a top" as my coach used to squeal when she boasted about Simon's success in both freestyle and ice dance. He was a baby lamb, pure and- wait, what was he doing? Was he smirking at me? Would it be immature to stick my tongue out at him or would he find my indignation cute? If I was purposefully trying to look frustrated but dainty while doing so, did that count as indignation? Whatever it counted as, I was disregarding my internal monologue and skating over to him with the ridiculous intention of confronting him. "What are you doing, Simpson?" He was obsessed with the classic show. His favorite character was Maggie with her suspend-your-disbelief shenanigans. His dog was named Maggie as a homage to the show, so I'd created a moniker dedicated to his fandom, and he was also all over that. And we both know his praise made my cheeks heat like somebody was draining cranberries of their juice right into my pores. "What do you mean? I haven't even talked to you yet today until now," he replied smugly. I had to restrain myself from spluttering. "This thing you have going on with your face!" I mimicked his almost flirtatious expression. "Wha- Ravy, I'm not even allowed to look at you without getting lectured? Get over it, you've gotten pretty and your personality's improved. Not to mention, that double axel is coming along," he told me sincerely. Oh, now I was really in trouble. Pretty? Personality? Double axel? Was this reality? I tried to compose myself and pretend like I wasn't about to melt right through the ice. "Well, stop ogling me. It's really distracting," I said with mock haughtiness. "I'm not ogling you. Yeah, you're pretty but now all you girls are getting pretty. It's a game of whose character I like best," he declared. I scoffed. "Nobody is competing over you. Oglaya has a boyfriend and Katie and Lula? Would you even consider them your friends? Plus, I think they're lesbians, correct me if I'm wrong," I felt proud of my witty retort, but my face blanched with mortification when Coach Simmons hollered at me from across the rink to "get your ass moving! Leave pretty boy alone!," which only made Simon look more confident that everybody believed he was an elite skater that deserved only the best treatment. I rolled my eyes and glided off to continue my pursuit of broken bones. Oh, and double axels.