Walk on Water

by Laura Peyton Roberts

  “Jenni, will you quit it?” Lexa exclaimed.

  “What?” she asked, all drunken innocence. “You said you don’t like him. I like you,” she told Ian, feeling up the arm she was dangling by. “I think you’re very nice.”

  Lexa’s cheeks burned. She had never loved her best friend less. “I didn’t—” she tried to explain to Ian.

  “Forget it,” he said quickly.

  “No, but—”

  “We’re good.” Shaking his head, he glanced toward Jenni and mimed draining a cup into his mouth.

  Bry rushed up to confront Jenni. “Why did you invite those morons? Nobody else even knows them!”

  “Adam,” Jenni said, smiling dreamily. “Adam’s soooo pretty.”

  “So you invited him and Jacob? That seemed like a good idea to you?”

  “No, no, you’re confused. Jacob brought Adam. How else was I going to get him here?”

  “I’m not the one who’s confused.”

  “Everything is perfect,” Jenni assured him. “I told Jacob to come and bring some friends for the too-many girls at this party, because he’d already told me that he’d be hanging with Adam tonight. Which makes me a genius.”

  “Genius,” Lexa repeated, still angry. “There’s the word I was searching for. Come on, I’m driving you home.”

  Jenni dug in her heels. “Home? No way!” she said, pulling free at the edge of the crowd. “I’m just getting started!”

  “And where are you planning to end?” Lexa asked. “With a fistfight between Jake and Adam? A hookup with another guy you barely know? Their buddy Mick is a pig, in case you haven’t noticed, and what I’m seeing of Adam doesn’t look much better. Have a little self-respect.”

  Jenni drew herself up, furious. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth and ran for the water’s edge.

  “I’ve got this,” Bry said, taking off after her.

  “I’ll keep an eye on the goon squad, make sure they stay put till you’re gone,” Ian told Lexa. “Once Jenni’s out of here, they’ll probably take the hint.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “Okay, then. See you around.”

  When? she wanted to ask. Where? Her irritation with Jenni hit new highs as she realized his words were probably empty. “Yeah. And thanks again. You know . . . for everything.” She hurried off, cursing Jenni under her breath.

  Jenni had finished vomiting by the time Lexa reached her, and her resistance to leaving had ridden out on her dinner. Lexa and Bry hustled her through the darkness up to the road, quickly deciding that he would drive Jenni’s Lexus back to her house, where he’d left his car, while Lexa followed with Jenni.

  “If she’s going to puke again, it’s better if she does it in my car,” Lexa said.

  “Better for her, anyway,” he agreed.

  For half the long drive to the Kims’ house, Lexa remained silent, so full of the angry things she wanted to say that she didn’t trust herself to speak. Jenni sat with her head lolling out the open passenger window, equally quiet.

  “What the hell?” Lexa finally burst out. “Nobody but you wanted those losers at the party. Did you bother to think about that? And what’s up with telling Ian that I don’t like him? Are you trying to screw over everyone you know, or is this just the cool new Jenni?”

  Jenni gulped fresh air and sat up. In the headlights of the oncoming cars, she looked shaky but unrepentant. “Don’t expect an apology for Ian. If you can’t get your story straight, maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up.”

  All the swallowed complaints of the past months rose into Lexa’s mouth at once. “I don’t even get you anymore! It’s like all you care about now is being popular and impressing people who don’t matter, not even to you. You can’t tell me you ever had feelings for Jacob. Everly’s a bitch. And Adam . . . two weeks ago you didn’t even know who Adam was.”

  Jenni stared straight ahead, jaw clenched.

  Part of Lexa’s brain told her to drop it. That part got overruled. “Bry says you’re skipping practices. Regionals is only three months away! Maybe you think you’ll coast through, and maybe you’re right. But what about sectionals? Are you even thinking that far ahead?”

  “Not really. No.”

  “So what’s your—”

  “Open your eyes, Lexa! I’m not like the rest of you! I’m just a local girl at her hometown rink who’s hung on longer than most. We both know I’ll never be national champion. I’m not going to worlds, or the Olympics, or anywhere else worth mentioning. I’m just not good enough.”

  “Because you have to prac—”

  “I’ll never be good enough,” she said bitterly. “I wasn’t born with your talent, so you don’t get to judge me for wanting to enjoy senior year like a normal person. At least I didn’t run away from home. I’m not throwing away a title, like you are. I’ve risen as high as I’m going to and now it’s time to grow up. You ought to grow up too.”

  They faced off, furious, both wanting to say so much more, then abruptly turned their gazes out opposite windows.

  Lexa’s jaw hurt from being ground shut when she finally reached Jenni’s street. Jenni tumbled out before the Explorer reached a full stop and slammed its door hard behind her.

  Neither one glanced back as Lexa drove away.

  —26—

  “Okay! Yes!” Candace called enthusiastically. Walker and Patrick had just completed their first clean double twist lift. “How did that feel?” she asked, skating out to join them.

  “Awesome!” said Boyd. “Back in the saddle!”

  “It felt good,” Lexa agreed, disturbed to realize that it wasn’t as much of a thrill as she’d anticipated. Having easily picked up both the throw double Salchow and throw double toe loop the week before, she had needed only the double twist lift to complete the required elements in the junior pairs test, the highest test Boyd had already passed. She should have been ecstatic at a milestone that meant they were about to start learning the senior moves, but ever since her fight with Jenni, Lexa was finding it hard to get excited about anything.

  Although they still weren’t speaking, Lexa couldn’t stop arguing in her head. Jenni’s crack about running away had gotten under her skin. The lack of support it took to accuse her of throwing away a title was infuriating. But the worst part was wondering if Jenni was right.

  “Let’s see it again,” Candace said, “with the footwork leading out this time.”

  Lexa would have to land perfectly to be in position for that footwork, but she nodded and skated off without worrying about it. If she didn’t land this one, she’d land the next one, or the one after that. She couldn’t keep living and dying by every success and failure—especially not with Boyd continuing to act as if all their successes were his and all of their failures hers.

  They skated back crossovers around the turn and positioned themselves for the lift, Lexa riding a back inside edge with Boyd’s hands on her waist. Setting her toe pick, she sprang hard, propelling herself up and around him as he pushed her high overhead and released. Temporarily free at the top of the lift, she snapped off two barrel rolls before he caught her waist again. She landed perfectly on one foot, made eye contact with her partner, and launched into the footwork sequence.

  She was learning to read Boyd on the ice—his strengths and weaknesses, the moves that always slowed him down—and adjust accordingly. Skating in sync with him was getting easier, but unison was more than lifting the same leg at the same time—it was lifting it to the same height with equal extension and matching turnout. Unison was mirroring each other’s arm, hand, and even finger positions. Unison was pushing together, flying together, landing together, breathing together.

  Unison was exhausting.

  They finished their footwork sequence out of step, but there was no question they’d made huge strides in the weeks they’d been together. Candace was actually smiling as she sent them off to the locker rooms, Lexa’s extra hour of practice no longer required.

  “Goo
d skating today,” Boyd said, clapping Lexa on the shoulder. “You rocked it out there.”

  Her mood lifted at the unexpected praise. “You think so?”

  “Definitely. I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

  She could never tell if he was kidding when he wore that self-satisfied grin. “Yes, your awesomeness is contagious.”

  He laughed, taking the compliment at face value. Running a hand over his gelled hair, he strutted to the men’s locker room. “See you tomorrow, partner.”

  There were a few other girls in her locker room, but none Lexa knew well enough to talk to. Homesickness knifed through her, the fact that she was on the outs with Jenni making her miss her friend twice as much. The girl she’d dropped off drunk wasn’t the girl she missed, though. There was no point even texting the stranger her friend had become.

  Exiting into the steaming parking lot, Lexa looked forward to the long drive home. Commuting alone, nothing to do but sit and drive, might not be the best use of time, but that was why she liked it. The hours she spent in her car were the only hours she truly relaxed. No one wanted anything from her on the road. There was no one else to satisfy, no one to disappoint . . . she wasn’t even supposed to answer her phone.

  Paradise, she thought, although the hundred-plus-degrees blast of air that greeted her when she opened the Explorer’s door suggested a different place. Sidesaddle in the driver’s seat, she lowered all her windows and waited for a breeze. She was still sitting like that when Boyd walked out of the arena and was pounced on by both Temp and Ashley.

  “Have fun with that, partner,” Lexa muttered, swinging into the car and driving out of the lot before anyone noticed her. Boyd’s insane entourage was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

  Tempeste might actually qualify as a stalker, she thought. Although it’s probably not technically stalking if your victim encourages it.

  For all of Boyd’s joking behind Temp’s back, he seemed happy enough to soak up her worship, and summer had afforded her much more time to hang out at his altar. She spent almost as many hours loitering at the rink as he did training, managing to talk her way in to watch even during private sessions.

  “How does she get in here?” Lexa had asked once, when the heat of Tempeste’s stare had burned a hole in her back all morning.

  “Have you seen her?” he’d replied incredulously. “She’s hot! Hot girls do what they want.”

  “She’s annoying.”

  “Seriously annoying. In the hottest possible way. Besides,” he’d added, preening, “you have to admit she has good taste.”

  At least Temp had stayed out of her way since that first showdown—not counting the constant evil eye. Ashley was a different story. Lexa had had another run-in with her only the day before, when she’d accidentally gotten in line behind the girl at the snack bar.

  “You’re all wrong for him!” she’d blurted, wheeling around with a tragic expression. “You’re too tall, too heavy, and your timing is terrible. You don’t even know how good Boyd is because you mess him up all the time!”

  “Do you have an invitation to senior nationals?” Lexa had retorted, provoked.

  “Your bye is in singles. So what? You hesitate. You’re tentative in the lifts, and your weight flops all over the place. You cause every problem the two of you have.”

  Lexa had stared down into Ashley’s waif-like face, then stalked off on her blade guards, swallowing rude comebacks along with her hunger. Ashley had some right to be upset, even if she’d picked the wrong target.

  “Your timing is crap!” she’d thrown at Lexa’s retreating back. “Ask Candace if you don’t believe me!”

  Lexa hadn’t asked, putting the incident down to jealousy. Now, nothing else to do but drive, she wondered if Ashley might have a point.

  She did hesitate sometimes. She had to, to let Boyd catch up. But since he was the one setting the pace, she couldn’t see how those adjustments affected him. And as far as being tentative, she had never bailed out of a single lift. They had to abort an approach now and then when things didn’t line up, but not because Lexa was afraid to give the element her all. That was more of a timing issue.

  My timing? she wondered, Ashley’s accusations ringing anew in her ears.

  She did know she needed to hold herself more rigid when Boyd lifted her. Stiffer posture made his job easier. But until they could hit those overhead poses without a dozen balance adjustments, she wasn’t sure how to do that. Right now she was shifting her weight just to keep from falling down.

  My too-heavy weight?

  “Screw Ashley,” she concluded, cranking up the stereo. She had enough problems already without listening to haters.

  —27—

  “Kitten?” Beth called. “What are you doing up there?”

  Lexa closed her laptop. “Nothing!”

  “Come on down, then. Watch a movie with your old grandmom.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Lexa promised, waiting to hear Beth walk away before reopening the computer.

  Ian Wilde was skating his nationals performance of the year before as captured in a YouTube fan video. The camera work was shaky, the audio filled with inane comments by a girl who knew nothing about skating and was swooning anyway. With the sound turned off, though, this particular video had become Lexa’s favorite viewing.

  If only he skated pairs! She imagined tucking herself into his flawless camel spin, her free leg fitting perfectly beneath his. If Ian were my partner, pairs would be totally different.

  She knew that fantasy was futile, but ever since she’d bonded with Ian at the bonfire, the obsession she thought she’d put behind her had returned stronger than ever. That afternoon, practicing star lifts with Boyd, she had even pretended that the hands supporting her were Ian’s.

  That’s got to be the pairs equivalent of cheating, she thought, clicking Replay anyway. She’d felt guilty about it at the time, but now, watching Ian, she forgave herself. There was nothing easy, let alone magical, about skating pairs with Boyd. Even this far into their partnership, every day was still a struggle. She hadn’t expected the two of them to be great together right away, but she’d expected . . . something. She had counted on some sort of connection that so far neither of them felt. It was hard to believe they ever would. But if they didn’t . . .

  Lexa pushed her doubts away. No, we’ll get there, she vowed, closing the laptop.

  We have to.

  —28—

  “Lower, Lexa!” Candace called. “Trust your partner!”

  Balanced precariously on a back outside edge, whipping around Boyd’s pivot in a death spiral that already felt perilously low, Lexa eased her head closer to the ice. She could feel the chill on her cheek as she made another circuit, her whole body tensed for disaster. Then, leveraging her hand-to-wrist grip on Boyd’s arm, she pulled herself back up to standing still riding the same edge.

  Candace sighed heavily. “It’s better, but it’s not good. You need to lean back and drop, Lexa, not lower yourself bit by bit. And your final position is still too far off the ice. Have you been working on your flexibility?”

  “Every day.” Flexibility wasn’t her problem. Her problem was executing a move called the death spiral with someone as self-absorbed as Boyd serving as her only anchor. “I just need to relax more.”

  “Then relax. Do it now.”

  Yeah, that helps, Lexa thought, skating around for another attempt. She caught Beth’s eye in the stands as she did. At Candace’s urging, Beth hadn’t visited for the past two weeks, her presence deemed too distracting.

  What’s distracting is trying to impress her on the only day she’s here. Lexa didn’t know if she was more anxious for her grandmother to see her skate well or for her not to see any cracks in the veneer of the team she’d assembled. It wouldn’t help either of them for Beth to know that things with Candace and Boyd were sometimes less than perfect.

  Lexa tried to focus on Boyd as they took their grip again. Forcing her weight agai
nst his wrist to make a rigid bridge of their hands, she began leaning back slowly on the knife’s edge of a single blade.

  “I’ve got you,” he urged.

  “Drop it!” Candace yelled impatiently.

  Lexa dropped, her clasped arm extended over her head and both hips turned up toward the ceiling. Boyd’s grip held. Her edge held. She was so low her hair dragged the ice. The rink’s rafters whirled overhead as she counted revolutions, bracing to rise again, wondering how she’d ever do it from so far down . . .

  Then she felt Boyd lifting and she was up, popping into position with her free leg never having touched the ice.

  “Better!” Candace exclaimed. “Much, much better.”

  “It felt better,” Lexa said, excited.

  “Night and day,” her coach assured her. “Now if I could get you to listen the first time . . .”

  Lexa forced herself not to glance at Beth. Candace probably wouldn’t be happy to learn that the only reason she had pushed herself so far so fast was to look good for her grandmother.

  “Let’s break on this success,” Candace said. “Let your body remember how doing it right feels. It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

  Lexa hurried to the locker room to ditch her skates. With a track suit over her skating dress and her feet stuffed into Uggs, she joined Beth in the rink restaurant and took a big sip of the iced tea waiting at her place.

  “I figured you’d be thirsty.” Beth’s silver bob was impeccably styled and diamond earrings framed her smile. “You looked amazing out there, kitten, your mother’s girl for sure.”

  “You really think so?” There was nothing Lexa wanted to hear more. “I mean, I’m obviously nowhere near that good yet. But if I keep at it, do you—”

  “You’ll be great, never doubt it. It’s happening already.”

  The waiter arrived at their table and set down two chicken Caesar salads, dressing on the side.

  “I ordered while you were changing,” Beth said.