by Casey Winter
I wince, part of me wanting to correct him. We were never best friends and I don’t give a damn about his problems, as selfish as that might make me. But I’m just glad he’s let go of the car door. I climb inside and start the engine, backing away as he stands there watching us like a horror villain.
“What was that about?” Mom asks. “He seemed a little agitated.”
“Nothing, Mom,” I tell her. “He was just asking how you were.”
She frowns at me. “I’m not deaf, monkey. I heard some of it. He was telling you about his wife, about Denise. Why?”
I laugh grimly. “Honestly? I have no fricking clue. Maybe he just doesn’t have anybody else to vent to.”
“And something about credit card bills?”
With a sigh, I fill her in, since Mom will want the full scoop so she can share it with Alejandra. They love gossiping, those two, even if I’ve gotten into the habit of tuning it out. But, lately, that’s harder to do. Since I live here now. Since I am, officially, a Little Faller again.
“Oh, that’s awful,” Mom mutters, but her eyes gleam. “Poor Graham. He’s such a nice boy.”
“Oh, yeah,” I agree drily. “Poor, poor Graham.”
It’s still raining when we pull up in the driveway. I go around to Mom’s side to open the door for her, but she tuts and opens it herself, shooting me a look. “I’m not an invalid, Hannah,” she says, voice still raspy.
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
She softens as we walk up to the house. “No, I’m sorry,” she mutters. “It’s just been a long night. I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
She goes upstairs and crashes in bed, and I sit on the couch, listening to the rain pitter-pattering against the window. I take out my phone, checking it, but there’s still no reply from Luke. I’m annoyed at myself for sending him that text about seeing each other. I don’t want to pressure him. At the same time, I’m not even sure that seeing each other today is the best idea, not after the scene last night.
I feel restless.
I want to skate, to work my body until all I can do is collapse, exhausted, and sleep like I’m dead. But I don’t want to leave Mom alone, not when Alejandra is not here, and, anyway, it’s raining. I could go to the rink, but that would be too much like forcing myself into Luke’s life. And there’s that whole not-sure-if-I-wanna-see-him thing, too, so yeah …
Maybe I’ll stay away from the rink today.
I sketch for a little while, redirecting my anxious energy into something vaguely productive, but about halfway through I can’t concentrate and I end up scrolling mindlessly through Facebook. I watch an honestly absurd amount of funny animal videos. Then the door opens, and Penny walks in.
“Hey,” she says, leaping across the room and crushing me in a hug before I’ve even had a chance to stand up properly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got home. I had my creative writing class. The adult one. Lots of promising students, this summer. But I’m ranting. How is she? How is Teresa?”
I give her an update. Penny deflates, letting out a relieved breath, and then drops onto the couch next to me. Her hair-bun has come loose, her messy red hair, stylish glasses and ruffled shirt sleeves making her look artistic as heck. I also fill her in about Graham, too, because—sue me—I kind of like to gossip as well.
“Woah, that’s crazy. I mean, I knew they weren’t head-over-heels, but I didn’t know it’d gotten that bad. Credit card debt? That’s rough.”
I scoff. “I didn’t even know they were married,” I tell her. “That’s how out of the loop I was.”
She nods. “But you’ve always been very, uh, what’s the word?”
“Bitchy?” I offer.
She beams. “Yeah, that’s it. You’ve always been super-bitchy about avoiding Little Fall stuff, like if you talk about it, you’ll be infected by it.”
“Well, there’s no avoiding it now,” I mutter. “But you’re spot-on about being infected by it. That’s exactly how I felt.”
“Felt? Not feel?”
I sigh, avoiding her question. “Penny, I just wanna say, thank you for last night. For coming here, and for giving me permission to tell Luke about, you know …”
She waves a hand, making light of it when it’s anything but. “It’s not exactly a secret,” she cries. “Everybody in town knows about crazy Penny and her perverse past.”
“Love the alliteration, hon,” I say. “But it’s hardly perverse, is it? It was a tragedy. And it wasn’t your fault.”
She laughs, sounding a little manic. “So, did it help? With Luke, I mean?”
“Sort of,” I say, nodding. “Listen, Penny, I know it’s early, but do you want a glass of wine?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You sound really serious all of a sudden. You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“Ha-ha,” I mutter. “No … I want to tell you about what happened with Noah. I’ve told Luke. I think I’m ready now, for you to know, to stop keeping you in the dark. You’re my fricking sister, for Christ’s sake.”
“Woah,” Penny says quietly. “Yeah, I’m ready to hear it, Hannah. Let me get the wine.”
I wait as she goes into the kitchen, not feeling as terrified as I always thought I would when I was going to break the news to Penny. Maybe telling Luke first has taken some of the sharp sting from it, or maybe—
My musing is interrupted when my phone screen blinks awake.
It’s Luke: Yeah, I want to see you again, Hannah. But it’s hard. I’m ashamed about sharing that with you. That’s the truth. Give me a day? Xoxo
I’m way more pissed than I expect to be, basically throwing my phone down on the coffee table.
Give me a day.
One day can easily turn into two, and two into three. If he was just ghosting me, fine, I’m a big girl. I’m sure I could take that. But this is worse, almost. This is him being horrified that there might actually be something real here, and letting his nerves get the better of him.
But it’s just a day. I need to relax.
I need to come to terms with the painful fact that Luke clearly doesn’t see things as deeply as me. And that’s fine. But if he strings me along—if one day becomes a week, for example—I’m not going to embarrass myself.
If I have to, I’ll end it … whatever it is.
Penny walks in holding two glasses of wine with a packet of chocolate candies clutched in her teeth. “Fought it’d be a choc’late sit’ation,” she says, teeth gritted around the packet.
I giggle, reaching up and taking it. “You thought right, Lennie.”
She glowers playfully. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Beanpole now.”
Then we both grow serious.
I tell her about Noah and the abortion. I tell her all of it, the whole scene in the bathroom, the way I pretended at the abortion office to be making the decision for myself. The more I talk, the angrier Penny gets, finally gripping the arm of the chair so hard her red-painted fingernails dig into it.
“Jesus,” she mutters darkly. “It’s good you kept this quiet until now, Banana. I don’t know what I would’ve done. What an absolute piece of filth.” I wince slightly. “What?” Penny snaps. “You don’t think he’s a scumbag for doing that to you?”
“I did—I do,” I whisper. “But he’s also Luke’s little brother. It’s … it’s complicated.”
“Because you care about Luke.” She sips her wine, cheeks flaming red. She’s so protective and sisterly. I love her. “And Luke still cares about Noah, even if he knows the truth now.”
“Bingo,” I laugh hollowly.
“Yeah, that is a bit of a mess,” Penny admits. “But don’t forget, once Teresa is better—and she is going to get better—you’ll be able to go back to your high-flying lifestyle, skate sponsorships and competitions and the road.”
I frown. “Yeah, I could,” I say. “But it’s weird, the more I stay here, the more I like the idea o
f staying here for a little longer. I guess I never realized how much I missed it. I’m not saying I could ever replace Evelyn. I’ll never forgive that icy road for killing her, never. But I could be, you know, a good help at Family Roller. It’s just so fun, teaching people, making them smile.”
“But your career,” Penny mutters. “Wouldn’t you miss competing?”
“Sure,” I say, nodding. “But, if you want the truth, Penny, freestyle slalom’s not exactly the most popular sport in the world—”
“Don’t downplay your achievements,” Penny protests. “You’re incredible, sister. Never forget that.”
I smile warmly. “Thanks, really. But it’s the truth. It’s a small sport, and I’ve won pretty much all there is to win. And it’s getting lonely.”
“But you have friends there, right?” Penny probes.
I take a small sip of wine, letting its flavor burst on my tongue before swallowing. “Yeah, I do. I guess I’ve got plenty of friends. But it’s weird, Penny. You know how I hate to stand alone at parties?”
Penny rolls her eyes, a grin of reminiscence lighting up her face. “Do I remember it? Effing hell, Banana, it was one of the running themes throughout our childhoods. You couldn’t stand still, like ever. If you weren’t doing something, you were dying. That’s how it seemed to you. I remember one rare time when you convinced me to come to a party, I found you in the basement with a couple of the so-called dorks – June’s brother, right? – playing Dungeons & Dragons.”
“Oh, yeah,” I giggle, shaking my head at the memory. “I actually forgot about that.”
“I asked you what the heck you were doing, and you just looked me dead in the eye in that can’t-sit-still Hannah way and said, ‘Listen, Penny. I hate to stand alone. It’s as simple as that.’ All I did was go and use the effing toilet, girl. It wasn’t my fault Doug Helmsmore had a bad belly and I had to wait in line for the bathroom, was it?” She giggles. “But that was your little saying, whenever you threw yourself wholeheartedly into a new experience. If I ever called you brave, you’d toss your head and say, ‘It’s not brave, Lennie, I just hate to stand alone.’ But you were wrong, you know. It was brave, is brave, the way you throw yourself into stuff. I could never do it.”
“You could,” I say, leaning over and clutching her hand. “And you do. Not everybody routinely hammers out twenty thousand words on Saturday nights.”
Even if I do wish she’d finish a book one of these days.
“But thank you,” I say. “It’s really nice of you to say. But the point is, like, lately I’ve found myself standing alone at parties and having it feel sort of natural. Because even if I like my skating buddies, they’re not, I don’t know … they’re not home. Does that sound cheesy or what?”
“Perhaps,” Penny allows. “But it also sounds true, Banana.”
“Plus, here’s something else crazy … I feel such a bigger sense of achievement teaching Angelica slalom than I ever do in competitions.”
“Who’s Angelica?”
“A little girl who sometimes comes to Family Roller with her little brother. Her mom has a quirky style. You’d like it. Heart-shaped glasses.”
“Like the song,” Penny grins. She waves a hand. “Well, that’s great, then. If that’s really how you feel, it’s win-win. You’re happy and I get my bestie back. So what’s the problem?”
“Well, money, for one,” I say. “I mean, I’ve got quite a nice chunk saved up from skating and competitions and everything, but it won’t last forever.”
“Okay, then get a job like everybody else, Banana. What else?”
I take a much-needed sip of wine, liking the way it infuses my insides. And I don’t even care if it’s in the AM. These are special circumstances if ever there were any.
“Luke,” Penny says a moment later. “He’s the spanner in the works, right?”
I nod. “I guess so. To be honest, part of me was wondering if this would happen when I came back here for the long haul, like I sort of expected I might get involved in Little Fall stuff again. But what I definitely didn’t expect was for Luke Nelson to reopen Family Roller. I didn’t expect to find him completely, insanely irresistible. And I definitely didn’t expect to find out that our attraction went beyond just the physical.”
“Is that why you keep checking your phone?” she asks.
“What?” I flinch. “Do I?”
Penny rolls her eyes. “Hon, you’ve checked it at least once a minute.”
“That’s crazy,” I mutter. “I really didn’t even realize. But yeah, he texted me saying he wanted me to give him a day, which is sort of annoying, honestly, since I thought last night—well, I guess I thought it meant something.”
“Go to Family Roller, then,” Penny says firmly. “Go for a skate. If you feel like talking to him, march right up to him and say your piece. If not, just skate. That sounds like a win-win, too.”
“But there’s a lose in there, as well,” I mutter.
“And what’s that?”
“He breaks my heart, just like his little brother did.”
Penny puts her hand on mine. “Do you think that could happen?”
“No, yes, no …” I trail off. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not in the same way, at least. I’m certain that Luke is a good man. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. But could he get distant, too scared of his own feelings? Yeah, I could see that. So maybe it’s better if I don’t let myself feel anything, either. Maybe it’s better if I stay cold.”
“But?” Penny whispers a moment later, knowing me well enough to sense that there’s more.
“But I’m sort of tired of being cold,” I tell her.
—
Penny’s suggestion of going to the roller rink stays with me all day. Partly, sure, it’s for the chance that I might see Luke. But it’s also because I want to skate, badly. Skating has always been my release, my flow, my way of checking out of the world and completely losing myself.
When my feet are gliding across the floor, when I feel like I’m in complete control of my movements, when the slightest twitch of my muscles sends me toe-wheeling between the cones, I feel complete.
I feel real. I feel in charge.
Noah stole some of that feeling from me, the notion that I had the final say about what happened to my body. But skating gave it back to me. After the abortion, I hit the skates with a vengeance I’d never had before. I was like a woman—no, a girl—possessed, practicing for eight hours a day sometimes, practicing until scabs and sores opened and closed on my feet, until my body ached and begged me to stop.
Skates, for me, felt more natural than shoes. Heck, more natural than feet.
So, in the evening when Alejandra gets here, I ask Mom if she minds if I go for a skate. She glances up from her sketching pad, smiling a little, though there’s still that conflicted look in her eyes, too. She knows that going for a skate means potentially seeing Luke.
“You go, dear,” Alejandra answers for her, shooting Mom a fierce glare.
It turns out that Alejandra isn’t at all happy about the way Mom acted last night. I heard them talking earlier, Alejandra giving Mom quite the talking-to: “She’s a grown woman, Teresa, and if she wants to be with him, she’ll be with him. All you’ll achieve with your flapping is to push her away from you.”
I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think I’d let Mom push me away from her, not ever.
But it’s true that it would create a rift between us. Imagine if Mom died and we spent her final few months arguing about a boy. I’d never forgive myself.
So I’m glad when Mom agrees, “I know that look in your eye, little monkey. You need to skate. You’ll be climbing up the walls if you don’t.”
I say goodbye to them both, giving Mom plenty of kisses that make her giggle and wave at me like I’m an annoying bee—but she’s all smiles, too—and then I grab my skates and go out to my Beetle. I drive down to Family Roller, not feeling the usual sense of excitement I have
this past week.
Usually, I’m thinking about skating, but also what’s going to happen after skating.
A wrestling match in Luke’s office, making good use of the cot in there.
A sudden, impromptu dash to Lorham to catch a movie.
A stolen kiss behind the desk when we think Alexis isn’t looking, only to turn and find her smiling at us.
Now, I’m nervous, thinking instead about how exposed Luke was last night, wondering if it’s going to make him defensive now in response. Maybe he thinks he overshared. Maybe he regrets it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe—
Hell, I really hate that word sometimes.
But when I arrive at the rink, there are no cars parked in the lot and the lights are not on. The place looks abandoned, the same way I imagine it looked when Evelyn was forced to sell. I think about texting Luke. But then I remember that he gave me a spare key a few days ago, just in case I wanted to practice out of hours. A little annoyed that I won’t be seeing him tonight, but still wanting to skate, I get the key from the glove compartment.
Something feels odd as soon as I step into rink.
It takes me a moment to realize what it is: the lights are off, but there’s a flickering, orange glow coming from the office. I look up at the window where Luke and I have made eyes at each other about a million times.
Fire.
Somebody’s burning down Family Roller.
I see them now, running down the stairs. A figure dressed all in black, leaping around the corner and then sprinting for the fire exit so fast it’s hard to believe it’s real. They’re wearing a mask, they’re not very tall, and then they’re gone.
I blink in disbelief. Then something snaps in me. I think, No, not Family Roller, no fricking way.
I find myself sprinting up the stairs, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the small seating area outside the office, and then kicking the door open. The momentum carries me way too fast into the room, since the door wasn’t locked. I almost stumble headfirst into the desk, which is the main source of the flames.