Dancing Through Bullets

On Thin Ice

"You make it look so easy!" Jericho whined, gripping the low rink wall tightly. The skates were too tight on his feet and the seat of his pants was soaking wet from all the times he had fallen on the ice.

"Well, like the saying goes, 'In order for a dancer to be truly great, he must know how to ice skate," AJ said, skating around in little circles in front of Jericho.

"Who the fuck says that?" Jericho asked, squinting his eyes against the glare of the bright November sun against the ice.

Chuckling, AJ spun to a halt, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Nobody."

Jericho let go of the wall with the intention of shoving AJ playfully, but as soon as he loosened his grip on his plastic lifeline, his feet slipped out from under him and he crashed to the unforgiving ice.

People -- even little children -- easily maneuvered their way around him, some of them giggling as they whizzed by. None of them were as entertained as AJ though, who made an older lady flinch with his sudden outburst of laughter.

After what seemed like forever, during which Jericho continued to sit on the ice and let it soak through his clothes because he knew there was no way he going to make it back into a standing position all by himself, AJ finally leaned down and held out a hand to Jericho.

"Sorry, man," he said through giggles, "Here, lemme help -- whoa!" Jericho yanked AJ's arm, making him lose his balance and land on his stomach on the ice.

With a smug smile, Jericho whispered, "If I go down, you're going down with me."

They both dissolved into laughter, and they stayed sitting there even after they had caught their breath, watching the skilled and not-so-skilled skaters zoom around the rink.

Who said great dancers needed to be good at ice skating, anyway?