12 Days of Writing

Skating To Christmas Songs

Summary: Mary had a crushing defeat at the preliminaries. She practices so hard she passes out and gets hypothermia.

Mary attempted the jump one last time, her heart slowly dropping as she realized she wouldn't make it. Again.

She came to a stop in the middle of the icy room, the ice rink silenced except for the sound of her heavy breathing. Tears slid down her face unbidden. She was such an idiot! How could she let all of her energy out in the first round? She was anemic! She had to keep her energy saved for the important things . . .

Mary heard her knees thunk on the hard ice, but didn't feel any pain. And then, all she saw was black.

*/\*

"Mary!" someone jostled her shoulders roughly. "Mary, wake up!"

"'M tired . . ." Mary mumbled, her eyelids firmly glued shut. But one thing was for sure; she was cold and tired and someone was trying to get her to wake up. She didn't like any of those things.

"Mary, for the love of--wake UP!" the person--male, she noted--shook her harder.

Mary's eyes slowly slid open to see Miguel, her skate partner, looking down at her with worried eyes. Tears . . .

"Miguel?" Mary tried to lift a hand to his face, but she couldn't move. "What . . . what's going on?"

Miguel closed his eyes and gave a short sigh. "I've been trying to wake you for almost five minutes. Your anemia caused you to black out while you were on the rink."

Mary thought back to what had happened minutes ago--or, at least what she thought had happened minutes ago. She had been practicing, maybe a little too hard, and had . . . collapsed?

"Can't move," Mary grunted. "'S cold, too."

Miguel's grasp on her tightened and he sucked in a breath. "I'm calling an ambulance."

Mary was going to tell him, no, she was fine, it was just an anemic thing and the fatigue would eventually fade. But then she realized she wasn't shivering. Even though she was super, super cold, her body didn't flinch once.

Hypothermia.

Miguel whipped out his phone and dialed 911, his grip never leaving Mary's shoulders. "Hello? I need an ambulance as soon as possible . . . yes . . . the ice rink in--no, no over by the--yeah, that one . . . my skating partner has anemia, and while she was practicing she fainted . . . no, I wasn't there when she passed out . . . yeah, now she has hypothermia . . . please come quickly."

He hung up and put his phone away, both arms wrapping around Mary soon after. One arm was still around her back and shoulders, while the other came to wrap around her knees. He lifted her easily, having practiced many times before for performances. However, his strength began to wane as he made it to the edge of the rink; she was dead weight right now, and he was trying his hardest not to slip on the ice.

As soon as his feet hit solid ground (or, at least not slippery ground), Miguel put Mary on a chair, took off her skates, and went to grab a blanket. In the meantime, Mary sat uncomfortably in the chair, the idea of curling up on the floor and going back to sleep overpowering her mental freakout. If you go to sleep, you might not wake up again. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake!

But her eyelids had other plans as they drooped closed. She was falling forward; she could feel the weight change as she was shifting. And then, suddenly, Miguel's arms were around her again, strong and warm. Very, very warm. She leaned into him, taking in his warmth.

Miguel hissed, "You're freezing!"

Really? I couldn't tell. . .

And then she was enveloped in soft warmth as the blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "There," Miguel rubbed her arms to warm her more. "Hopefully that will do something . . ."

Mary's eyes fluttered as she tried to keep them open, but they wouldn't listen. "Mary, you shouldn't fall asleep."

"Shaddup," she slurred. "Tired."

Miguel's lips were set in a straight line. "Hey," he said, bringing Mary back to consciousness. "What's your favorite Christmas song to skate to?"

Mary raised an eyebrow, but answered, "Silent Night."

Miguel chuckled a little. "Wow, really? So Mary likes the song about Mary and the baby Jesus?"

If Mary could have, she would have blushed. As it was (and luckily for her; Miguel didn't need the ego boost), her cheeks remained pale. "S-so what?" she stuttered. "'S a rly pretty song."

"You're right," Miguel quickly amended. "I was just wondering what we were going to skate to for the upcoming Christmas performance."

"Oh, yeah, that," Mary smiled.

She had almost forgot, what with her failures as of late. But Christmas . . . Christmas was special. She needed to do her best, if not for her family, then for Miguel, and the audience too.

Her eyes began to droop again, but Miguel's annoying voice brought her back once more. "I think we should also do a routine to 'Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland'."

"Ya think so?" Mary whispered as she was fading away.

"Yeah, I think it'd be really good. And on ice would look magical."

"Hmm . . ." Mary grunted. She vaguely heard Miguel ask her name a few times, felt a gentle shake. But she was too far gone.

*/\*

She woke up in the hospital, the room really hot. Stifling, even. It was impressive that she found anyone in there at all.

But there, sitting next to her side, was Miguel. He smiled at her and said, "You didn't let me finish what I was going to say."

Mary scoffed and turned her whole body to face him. "But your words were so boring, it put me to sleep."

"Pfft, sure," Miguel covered his mouth with a hand and tried to stop the giggles. "But you know, I wasn't done telling you what Christmas songs we would skate to."

"Then tell me," she urged.

And he did. And Mary had never felt so happy after a failure.