The Search For Shattered Pieces *Complete*

Chapter Twenty Seven: High Kicks and High Notes

Lyra:

"I've got it, thanks," I say, tugging my books front Trent.
"No, let me, pigeon," Trent counters, still firmly holding my books with that foolish grin on his face.
"Fine, whatever," I flounce off and instantly feel remorse. I'd been totally bitchy toward him and he'd been nothing but helpful. In fact, he's been nothing but insanely nice all week.  What's that about?
   "Where do you want the books, pigeon?" Trent asks and I jump.
   I point to my desk.  "There, you can just put them there, and...and...go."
   "But I don't want to go yet."
   I gulp.  "Ohhh...uhmmm..." Spectacular Lyra, really good come back.
   "In fact, if you're studying than I'd like to study with you."
   I shake my head wildly.  "I'm headed to rink.  I'm not studying right now, Trent."
   "Then I'll come with you."
   "You can't.  Maksim won't like that.  They're closed practices, Trent."
   "Not for family, Lyra." And he grabs my hand. 
   I shake my head again.  "No, seriously Trent.  I have to change and get down there.  I promised Maksim extra hours since I cut practice early last week for Cami...you know."  I pull at my hand.  "Honestly, please, I don't want to be late.  Go, I need to change and get to practice."
   "Fine, pigeon, but I'll see you for dinner, and before you make excuses I know for fact that you're having dinner with us, because mother already has your Coach joining us."
   That was news to me.  But okay.  "Fine, fine, now go, scoot, scadaddle."
   "Scadaddle," Trent released my hand and walks to my door, "must say this is the first time a girl has scadaddled me from her room."
   "I'm sure," I say dryly and am amused when his face turns red.
   "That didn't come out right?"
   "Oh?" I say enjoying his blush and discomfort immensely, heck, it wasn't like he hadn't put me in similar positions of discomfort and disquiet, hell, like all the time.
   "No, uhmmm definitely not the right way.  Okay, I'll see you for dinner then, piegeon."
   "Guess so." Once the door is firmly closed I let out the deep breath I'd been holding.  "Oh sweet baby Jesus."

                              *****

Lyra:

If one looked up awkward in the dictionary there would be a picture of all of us, as we were, right now, right there on the page.
Maksim kept looking at me and heck, who was I kidding, everyone was looking at me, and I didn't like it. I didn't like it one little bit. "Uhmmm...this is delicious, Bethany," I say finally. Putting a small piece of chicken in to my mouth. My fork stops at my mouth when I catch Maksim's dark gaze. I bring the fork back down and place in on the plate.
"Oh thank you, of course I can't take the credit for it, no it's Andrea, she's a marvel in the kitchen. But I'm so glad you're enjoying it. You should really eat more, my dear."
I stiffen. "I'm sorry, what?"
"...Of the meal, you should really eat more of it, dear. You've barely touched your plate."
"Oh, I'm not that hungry." I say softly. I feel burning eyes on mine and ignore them, keeping my head lowered as to not see whose eyes are upon me.
"Of course you are, you didn't have lunch," Trent pipes up and I glare over at him.
"Oh my dear, then you absolutely need to eat more supper. You must be starving."
I shake my head. "No, really, really, I'm fine."
"It's not good for my little bird to be skating on a full stomach, I'm sure you understand, Mrs. Parrish."
   Bethany appears startled but nods quickly.  "Of course, of course, I'm sorry how inconsiderate of me not to remember that you're training, Lyra."
   "It's okay, Bethany."
   "Not it's not okay, mom," Trent says and glares at Maksim.  "Is it also okay for your little bird to pass out because she's starving, huh? I'm sure she can work really hard for you on a empty stomach."
No, no, please, please, Trent, don't do this right now, not like this, not here.  Not now.
"Moya malen'kaya ptichka sdelana iz boleye prochnogo materiala, mal'chik. Odin propushchennyy priyem pishchi ne privedet k potere soznaniya." (My little bird is made of sterner stuff, boy. One missed meal will not have her passing out). Maksim says
He's right. Another missed meal would not have me passing out. I was used to this by now. And I was used to skating like this. I'd done it thousands of times before and would do it thousands of times again.
"I have no idea what Russke said, but somehow I don't think I'll like it," Trent snaps.
"Please, Trent," I implore him, "Drop it."
"Trent, you're making Lyra uncomfortable," This from Zach and I shoot him a grateful look. His face is impassive, I can't read anything from it.
"Damn it, fine." Trent snaps. "But I'm watching practice."
"The practices are closed practices, boy."
"Again, not your boy, and you can't close the fucking practice we own the goddamn ice rink you're practicing on."
Maksim narrows his eyes and nods curtly. "Fine, if you wish to watch, then perhaps after dinner for a bit. You'll see that little bird can skate with little in her stomach."
Trent nods. "I'll be there."
I gulp.