𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

⁰²⁵ 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

We drove to the ice skating arena in silence, and every time the car hit a bump, the muffled sound reminded me how much I didn't want to be here.

I sat in the back seat, curled up like an angry hedgehog, trying to untangle the stubborn knot in my skate laces.

"It'll be good for you," they had said, as if the rink were some magical place where all problems would melt away. Dr. Matthews had recommended it, and as always, my parents treated his words like the gospel.

"Great, now Dr. Matthews decides what I do for fun," I grumbled, not taking my eyes off the tangled shoelaces. "What's next? Healing drumming in the moonlight? Or goat yoga?"

Dad, who was driving, tried to break the ice - metaphorically, of course. "This might help you, Missy. You always loved figure skating."

"Well, I've loved a lot of things that weren't necessarily good for me," I replied dryly, thinking about more than just skating.

When we finally arrived, I stepped out of the car feeling like I was on my way to battle, not an ice rink.

The cold air immediately cut through the remaining warmth that the car had been holding, but it was a cold that wasn't just to do with the weather.

I pulled my jacket around me as we made our way the few yards across the parking lot to the rink.

My boots crunched on the gravel of the parking lot. In my anger and determination to show my frustration, I kicked a few pebbles that dared to cross my way.

My parents walked beside me, their posture tense, their eyes on me cautiously, as if they were afraid I might melt down at any moment-or worse, have another outburst.

The arena was nestled among a cluster of other recreational buildings, shimmering like islands in a dark sea under the night lights.

Inside, it was even colder than outside.

I immediately noticed the division of the rink: one half was cordoned off with a sturdy red-and-white rope for us and the other figure skaters, while on the other half a horde of hockey players in full gear scurried about, their movements quick and sure, their calls loud and energetic.

Georgia Callagan, my new coach, stood at the edge of the rink like the guardian of an icy kingdom. She was a tall, stern woman with a serious look in her eyes that said she had no time for fun.

But her manner was familiar to me; all the figure skating coaches I had had so far were built in the same way.

"Melissa Shepherd?" she called, her voice echoing across the ice.

"That's me," I replied as I approached her slowly, my skates firmly in my hands. Georgia took a quick look at me.

"I expect you to be on time and to perform. When you're here, we work hard. Do you understand?"

"Aye aye, Captain," I murmured, sitting down on one of the hard benches to exchange my sneakers for the skates.

My mother gave me a warning look before turning to Georgia. "Thank you for coaching Missy. She was a talented skater. We hope she finds the joy in it again."

"Talented or not, this is all about discipline and hard work," Georgia retorted, unimpressed by Mom's attempt to put me in a good light.

My parents watched as I dragged myself to the ice, and I heard my father mutter something to the effect of, "This will be good for her, Addie, you'll see."

"I hope so, Derek. I really do."

"Just so you know, I'm not here voluntarily," I muttered, more to myself than to my new coach.

"That makes two of us," Georgia replied dryly, gesturing toward the ice. "Let's get started."

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the ice, the cold, clear surface reminding me of all the reasons I had loved and feared skating.

It had given me a lot, but it had also taken a lot from me.

The hockey players on the other side of the rink were loud, their shouts and the clash of their sticks on the ice creating a constant noise level.

Practice began, and Georgia was relentless.
"Toes pointed! Arms up! More elegance, Melissa!"

She had me practice the basics, drills that tested my muscles and brought back memories of earlier training days. "I need more speed and precision in your jumps."

I followed her instructions, each movement an expression of the past, a strange déjà vu that made me feel both alive and completely detached. It was as if my body remembered the moves, even if my heart remained rebellious.

"Good, now the Axel!" she continued to command.

I took a deep breath, set up and jumped.
The world spun around me for a moment before I landed hard, but on both feet. Not perfect, but I was on the ice.

"Repeat," Georgia demanded immediately, and I set off for the next attempt.

My father and mother watched me from the stands, their faces a combination of hope and concern.

"She seems so distracted, Derek. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," my mother muttered.

"She'll get used to it. Ice skating is like riding a bike, you can't unlearn it," I heard Dad say, his tone somewhere between encouraging and reassuring.