Blades

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

When I get to the rink the next morning Sandy is already waiting for me, flicking his CD around in his hands as if he's jumpy today. His face relaxes when he sees me.

"Have you warmed up?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"I was waiting for you. When are we going to show Sherrie the music?" This must be why he's nervous and I admit I am a little, too. What if she doesn't like it?

And then there's what if she does?

"Straight after warm up," I say, "It's better before there's loads of people."

Sandy re-ties his laces as I put my boots on and then we head out onto the ice. After our individual warm ups we wordlessly come together for the partner one that is now a part of our routine. Katy and Max aren't here this morning, presumably at Max's old rink for a change, and so this early we have the ice to ourselves. It feels vast around us, the empty walls amplifying the scrape of our blades, and the effect is half empowering and half intimidating. Although I try not to look I catch sight of Sherrie watching us through the boards. I texted her about having chosen our Free music last night and I wonder what she's expecting.

We skate over to her and the three of us climb into the music box, CD in Sandy's hand. I can't work out why the silence is so tense this morning, except that it might be caused by the sense of anticipation I can taste in the air.

I feel Sandy shift a little closer to me as the introduction to Better Than Love floods out from the rink's loud speakers. The haunting rawness of the melody sounds eerie in this empty building, raising the hairs on my arms. All of my senses have somehow tuned in to Sandy and I find my shallow breathing matching his. I can't help but think of last night and how drawn to him I felt, magnetised to him by a power way out of my control. My heart rate picks up a notch. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Part of me wonders whether this was really such a good idea after all. But as I listen to the song the other part of me – the larger part – knows that no other piece would create as powerful a performance.

Sherrie's face is almost unreadable as she listens and the only thing I can tell is that she doesn't actively dislike our choice. Although this is probably a good thing indifference would be worse than dislike; music for our dance should be able to produce some sort of reaction from people. Her mouth is set in a thoughtful position and her eyes have taken on a far-off look that tells me she is trying to picture us skating to the music. It finishes and she hits the stop button. There is a long pause in which all I can hear is Sandy's breathing and my own heartbeat. Finally Sherrie speaks.

"It's a brave choice," she says slowly, "and definitely not something that other junior pairs will skate to." I can sense Sandy's disappointment from behind me and realise he must think that she doesn't like it. I, however, am already grinning.

"But?" I prompt. Sherrie grins back at me.

"But if we can get it right we could sweep them all off the board." I laugh at how purely Sherrie she's being. There's nothing she likes more than courage. "So if you two are happy with it - " we both nod " - I'll start thinking about choreography. For now I want to get you started on the Silver Samba. It's this year's compulsory sequence in the Short Dance and the sooner we start the better. That section will have to be perfect if you want to place for Nationals." Sandy and I share a glance. It's the first time that Sherrie has mentioned Nationals to us and there's only one reason it would be brought up: she thinks we can go that far. Sandy's eyes fizz with excitement.

We work with renewed energy now that we know we really are skating to Better Than Love and by the time The Pride are congregating we've revised the whole sequence thoroughly and corrected some lazy slip-ups. Today's Pride is on edge work and I can't help but feel internally puffed up because Sandy and mine are not only the deepest but matched perfectly. We're getting the hang of this.

Sandy looks at the clock twenty minutes before the end of the training ice session and jumps.

"Eek," he says, eyes wide, "I'm supposed to be going to some family lunch. I think I better go now."

I manage an "oh" in my surprise. Sandy's hand automatically finds the back of his neck as his cheeks stain red.

"I'm really sorry, Freddie. I completely forgot to mention it with showing Sherrie the music."

"No, it's ok," I say, though I'm aware I'm not hiding that I'm annoyed very well. Twenty minutes is a long time to lose. I can see in his face that Sandy can tell he's upset me but he clearly doesn't know what else to say. With those deep, imploring eyes it's hard to stay mad anyway; I don't refuse his goodbye hug as he apologises again, then skates off. I watch as he leaves, though, forehead tight. He really just forgot to tell you? You're partners, that kind of thing is important.

I try and do some work on my own but my irritation makes it futile. With a humph I wave goodbye to Sherrie and Sean and get off the ice myself. What a waste of good practise time.

But as I walk towards the benches my anger melts away. Beside my skate bag is a coffee mug from the ice café with a note on top:

So sorry I had to rush off, I promise to be less of a goldfish next time. Hope this makes up for it a bit.

See you tomorrow,

Your laddie,

Sandy xx

Your laddie. One sniff tells me that he remembered: it's my favourite caramel hot chocolate. And with another flick of his finger, I'm smiling again.