Blades

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sure enough, I've reached Wednesday and haven't shaken off Sandy's presence in my head. I stand in the queue at the Ice Café, forcing myself not to look around to check if he's here. There's an awful adrenaline in not knowing whether he trains today or not. This is getting ridiculous. You barely know the guy!

      When I reach the counter I smile at the old lady who serves here.

      "Caramel hot chocolate?" she asks with a knowing smile, and I grin back.

      "How did you guess?" Chuckling, she turns to make my usual, and as she does so my phone buzzes against my hip. I nearly jump out of my skin. Calm down, it's only Charlie.

      I pull it out and read the text: 'you're coming to mine after skating I CANNOT DO THIS MATHS HOMEWORK! xx'. Smiling, I'm about to reply when that voice comes from behind me.

      "Hi." The word sounds rounder in his accent, richer. I turn, self-consciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

      "Hey." I look up into Sandy's open face, taking in the simple practise clothes and skate bag and inwardly cheering at the fact that he trains on a Wednesday.

      "Your caramel hot chocolate, missy?" The server's voice spins me round, embarrassed. I hand over the money.

      "Yes, sorry." She gives me a warm smile, doing me more good than I think she realises. Breathe, Freddie.

      I turn back, cradling the drink, and find myself walking towards the benches with Sandy at my side.

      "Is that nice?" he asks, eyeing my cup sceptically.

      "If you like sugary things then yes. Toffee's my favourite food so I guess that speaks for itself." He smiles, but I feel that it might be a reflection on his thoughts rather than on what I've said.

      "My sister can literally eat spoonfuls of sugar. I don't suppose you've ever had proper Scottish stickjaw?" I shake my head. I've no idea what 'stickjaw' is. "If you like normal toffee, you have to try stickjaw. It's basically the stickiest variety around, glues your teeth together. I put this huge chunk in my mouth when I was a bairn and couldn't talk for about fifteen minutes." He re-enacts the incident, causing us both to completely crack up. When he doesn't give up pretending to have a mouthful of sugary glue that morphs every word into hilarious gurgles, I actually have to stop because I'm gasping for breath around my laughter and will spill caramel hot chocolate all down myself if I'm not careful.

      By the time we get to the benches, we're both breathing fairly normally again. He sits straight down but I lower myself carefully; the bruises from Saturday are still tender. It's one of those things that you get used to as a skater.

      "How're they doing?" he asks, and when I glance up I can see that he still feels an element of guilt about my falling over. This level of care for someone you hardly know takes me by surprise yet again, then warms me to him still further.

      "I've had worse," I confess, "and I had ballet last night, so that stretched me out a bit. I might just spend a bit more time warming up today." Ballet is another thing that you get used to as a skater. I'd much rather spend the two hours on the ice, but it's an accepted requirement of good figure skating to do ballet. I put up with it, though I've always felt that if there's anything that I'm natural at it's most definitely skating and not ballet.

      We put on our skates and head out onto the ice. Most people who come on a Saturday also do Wednesdays, but about half of them won't be here until later in the evening. I do my standard warm-up, taking extra care to loosen up my bruised muscles – it wouldn't be surprising if I fell over due to the stiffness acquired last time, ironic as that may be. Then it's back into the Rhumba and that blasted corner section; I go over it so many times to prove to myself that I won't crash again that my right leg is soon shaking from overuse. Eventually I let myself take a short break by the side where my water bottle's parked, though I know not to leave it too long or Sherrie will be over here darkly telling me to get some work done.