“I—well—” He seemed more surprised than reluctant. “Thank you, Beth. I’d like that.”
Lexa traded her skates for flip-flops in the women’s locker room. Slamming the locker door shut, she hurried outside to join her new team.
Beth had spread a blanket on a knoll beneath a shade tree, its leaves just beginning to color with the first suggestion of fall. Midday temperatures still steamed like summer, though, and Lexa dropped onto the blanket wearing only her practice dress. When Weston and Eric joined them, she helped pass out the food.
“It’s gorgeous today,” Eric said. Sprawling on his side, he stretched out his long legs.
Lexa shook fruit salad from a plastic tub onto his paper plate. “Did you bring forks, G-mom?”
“Of course.” Beth pointed to a bag.
Weston sat cross-legged on the blanket. Dappled sunlight through the leaves highlighted the silver in his thick gray hair. “Delicious, Beth,” he said of her curried chicken wraps. “Reminds me of the sandwiches we used to get at that Indian deli. Remember?”
Beth smiled. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
“I still wish they hadn’t closed that place. What’s it been? Fifteen years now?”
“Longer.”
Lexa looked from one to the other, struck by the realization that the two of them shared more history than she’d ever stopped to think about. It seemed obvious now, considering how long he’d coached Kaitlin.
“So, you rap, Beth?” Eric asked.
“Excuse me?” she said, at a loss.
“G-mom,” he said, straight-faced. “Is that your gangsta name?”
Beth’s expression remained blank.
Lexa burst out laughing. “It’s a nickname, genius. Be nice or I’ll give you one too.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “E-Dog suits me, don’t you think? Or possibly E-Money.”
“Craze-E works for me.” When she and Eric were skating, the fact that he was three and a half years her senior was clear, but he hadn’t outgrown a silly streak that made him easy to hang out with. They were constantly joking around, making long days of hard training fly by.
“I’ll call you Lexalicious,” he said, prompting her to throw a grape at him. It barely missed his forehead, buzzing through his messy curls instead. Eric threw back his head and laughed, delighted by the whole exchange.
Lexa picked up her sandwich again, marveling at how much her life had changed in two short weeks. Weston’s coaching skills were as great as his reputation. Instructing her and Eric from behind the boards in no way reduced his ability to mold them as a team. He was so sharply observant, so almost telepathically perceptive, that she couldn’t even remember now why she’d once thought having her coach on skates was important. And Eric . . .
She glanced across the blanket and smiled. Eric was goofy and humble and lovable and an all-around incredible partner. The two of them were already skating every element she had learned with Boyd, perfecting and expanding on them in preparation for developing programs of their own. She ought to be ecstatic, and she was.
But finally getting this part of her life right only made her more aware of the parts she’d gotten wrong. She thought about Blake and Jenni several times a day now. Wondering. Worrying.
Regretting.
With a sigh, she pushed her dark thoughts away. If she didn’t learn to focus on the good parts, she’d end up just like Blake.
“That was delicious,” Eric declared, rolling onto his back beside his picked-clean plate. “Thanks, G-mom.”
Beth laughed. “Don’t mention it.”
“And don’t fall asleep, either,” Weston told him. “We’ve got a big afternoon ahead.”
“Power nap,” Eric said, closing his eyes. “All the executives are doing it. Some sort of study. CNN. Wow, it’s nice out here. . . .”
There’s your new role model, Lexa thought as he pretended to drift off. You could learn more from Eric than his Tano.
She smiled. But learn the Tano, too.
—43—
“Lexa?” Clara prompted. “Are you listening?”
“Huh? Yes! College—I heard you.”
“Any thoughts on that?”
“Um . . . Can you be more specific?”
“Do you want to go to college?” Clara asked, enunciating as if Lexa had wax in her ears. “Will you be applying? If so, we ought to start thinking ahead. That’s a whole different set of requirements than just taking the GED.”
“It’s September and I’m only a junior. I don’t know what I’m doing for college. I barely know what I’m doing next week.” Although she was pretty sure a lot of it would involve choreographing her first short program with Eric.
“Should we have Beth come in and give us her thoughts?”
“No, let me think about it. I’ll talk to her later.”
“Talk soon,” her tutor said. “If you’re taking the SAT, the sooner we start drilling, the better. Plus there’ll be campuses to visit, letters of recommendation to collect, essays to—”
“I get it. Thanks.” She knew Clara was trying to help, but college was pretty far down the list of things she cared about at the moment. Blake had wanted her to continue with school—he’d always made that clear—but things were different now.
If I were still skating singles, I could probably make it all work, Lexa thought. Balancing training with college classes might even be easier than attending high school, because at least she’d be able to set her own schedule. But she was part of a team now, and Weston and Eric weren’t likely to pack up and move to college with her. It would be crazy even to mention school now, with everybody focused on making the next Olympics.
I’ll have to defer a year. At least a year, she realized. Beth would agree—she’d have to. There was really no other option.
Lexa turned her gaze out the window, blind to Maplehurst’s changing leaves and lengthening shadows. Erie Shores High had been dismissed hours before. Jenni and Bry would be at Ashtabula Ice now, along with Ian and Blake. She wished that she could be there too, if only for a visit.
“Would that be a no, then?” Clara asked.
“Huh? Sorry. I was still thinking about college.”
“I asked if you finished yesterday’s math.”
“Yeah. That’s in here somewhere.” Lexa began a search through the folder she kept homework in.
“Any difficulties?”
“No. This stuff is still easier than what I did at Erie Shores.” Lexa stopped shuffling as a new idea struck her. “Hey, Clara? If I’m not going to college, can I take the GED now?”
—44—
“You’re not eating, kitten,” Beth fussed. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Fine, Grandmom. I’m just not hungry.”
“I might accept that excuse if I were serving something green, but since when do you need an appetite to put away mashed potatoes?”
Lexa forced a smile and another bite.
“Is this about missing your friends?” Beth persisted. “You’re not still upset about the GED? Because we can talk—”
“No, G-mom. It’s fine. Really.” Lexa put down her fork. “I’m just worn out and need to rest. Choreography tomorrow—big day.”
“That’s right! Short program with Keiko Yamamoto! Are you excited?”
“To be choreographed by Keiko? How could I not be?” Keiko, a former champion herself, was the hottest young choreographer in pairs, in demand all over the world. Even Beth couldn’t pull that string; Weston had arranged it somehow. “That’s why I want to be at my best tomorrow.”
“Okay, kitten. Pleasant dreams.”
Lexa made her escape up the stairs wishing she had never mentioned the GED. Worse, she had stupidly revealed how much she missed Jenni and Bry, arguing that getting the certificate now might allow her to resume some sort of social life. Beth had vetoed an early test, though, ruling that Lexa would likely go to college someday and that continuing to study with Clara kept her options open.
That should have ended the matter, but Beth had been hovering ever since, seeking reassurance from Lexa when what Lexa really needed was to be reassured herself.
Alone in her bedroom, she locked the door and retrieved the video of her parents’ second nationals win. The familiar footage filled her muted TV screen as she sank back into her pillows. Her parents stood at the boards, about to stroke onto the ice. Blake’s eyes found Kaitlin’s. Their smiles ignited. Her fists bumped down on his. His bumped over hers.
“Walk on water,” Lexa whispered, not needing the audio to know what they were saying.
Walker and Walker struck their opening pose with every eye in the house riveted to them. Lexa’s eyes were riveted too as the legendary pair skated the final program of their career, the last of her mother’s short life. There was no hint of the sadness to come. Blake was at the peak of his game. Kaitlin radiated joy. Somewhere in the audience, Lexa knew, her infant self sat in her grandmom’s lap, but she didn’t remember being there. Her memories were restricted to a lifetime of viewing the event on tape, wanting to be as beautiful, as fearless, and as loved as her mother.
Blake and Kaitlin finished their program and skated through a hail of thrown flowers and toys to join Weston in the kiss-and-cry. He congratulated his champions as they catapulted into his open arms and lifted him off his feet.
Lexa’s first tear spilled. She wanted to believe that someday she’d stand there too, lifting Weston as her parents had. She and Eric were a promising team. She liked him a lot. Better still, she trusted him. With Weston as their coach, Walker and Sinclair had a legitimate shot at becoming a top pair, maybe even Olympic champions. They had the skills. They had the drive.
But lying there watching her parents, Lexa felt the ache of something still missing. She had never wanted to just skate pairs. She wouldn’t be satisfied with even Olympic gold until she had what her heart yearned for.
She wanted to walk on water.
—45—
“That’s beautiful!” Keiko exclaimed. “Lovely arms, Lexa.”
“Stay smooth through this part,” Weston cautioned from the boards. “Soft knees, you two.”
Lexa and Eric skated with their bodies entwined, stepping carefully through footwork so new that there was an excellent chance of tripping each other. His edges stayed precise, though, his hold on her so sure that she gradually relaxed into his rhythm, skating more and more confidently. At the end of the sequence, they broke apart and hit side-by-side flying camels, spinning in near-perfect unison. Lexa felt her smile grow as they successfully reached the end of the material Keiko had just choreographed.
Keiko skated to the rail to confer with Weston. Lexa could tell by the way he talked with his hands that he liked how things were going so far.
“Only a minute left to fill,” she said. “I wonder how our ending will look?”
Eric’s messy curls gave him a mad-professor vibe that morning. “Like genius,” he predicted, grinning. “Genius with a backward inside death spiral and a category-five lift.”
Keiko skated back over. Their choreographer wore a baby blue tank with black yoga pants, her hair in a sleek ponytail that hung well down her back. “Are you happy with it so far?” she asked. “Anything that doesn’t feel right?”
“It’s all good from my standpoint,” Eric said. “I think it’s coming out great.”
“So do I,” Lexa agreed.
Keiko’s smile suggested relief, as if she were unaware of her own stellar reputation. “That’s all of us, then. Are you ready to tackle the last minute?”
“Load it up! Lexa will carry me through it,” Eric teased.
“Carrying people is your job,” Lexa said. “Lucky for you, I’m light as a feather.”
“Yep. Light as a hundred pound sack of feathers.”
His estimate of her weight was overly kind. She lifted one skate anyway, to remind him how much it hurt to be kicked by a toe pick.
The next two hours were intensely challenging. Keiko took Eric’s suggestion, packing every beat of the music with moves designed to earn maximum points. The required elements were all tweaked to the highest achievable level of difficulty and included a lift Lexa hadn’t even begun to master. Unison was choreographed down to finger positions and glances of their eyes. Lexa felt like panicking more than once, but Eric’s encouragement motivated her in a way Boyd’s criticism never had. She threw herself into every move, heedless of the danger, trusting Eric to catch her. When at last they reached their final pose, she knew they had achieved something special.
Running sweat as she came off the ice, she hugged Weston anyway, thrilled with the day’s progress. Their new short program was beautiful, everything she’d dreamed of, and no one was accusing her of holding back the team. Weston and Eric were as right for her as Candace and Boyd had been wrong.
Beth voiced the same opinion as they drove home that evening. “We’re on the right track now,” she said. “You and Eric are shaping up brilliantly.”
“I still wish we were competing at nationals this year. For the experience, if nothing else.”
“I know, kitten. But the main thing is the Olympics, right? And we’re bang on track for that. Weston knows how to build a team. Every move he makes has your best interest at heart.”
“It’s going to be weird, though, being at regionals next week and not skating. If I’d stayed in singles I had that bye, so I probably wouldn’t have skated anyway, but . . .”
Beth had taken her eyes off the road to give Lexa a puzzled look.
“What?” Lexa asked.
“I could have sworn you just said you were going to regionals.”
“Well . . . yeah. Not to skate, obviously, but a bunch of people from Ashtabula Ice are competing. It’s only a four-hour drive. I at least want to go cheer them on.”
Beth shook her head. “That’s a wasted day in driving alone, plus another three days to watch everyone compete. It doesn’t make sense to lose that much time from your own training.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you have to consider Eric. I’m sure he’s not going to regionals. Pairs don’t compete there, so why would he?”
“He has friends who skate singles too.”
“Ask him. I already know what Weston will say.”
Lexa slouched more deeply into the Mercedes’ leather seat. The only way her grandmother could know that was through yet another conversation Lexa hadn’t been part of. In contrast to her sporadic communication with Candace, Beth talked to Weston constantly. Sometimes Lexa felt like they were calling all the shots now and she was just along for the ride.
“I guess I don’t have to go,” she said reluctantly. “It’s just that I always do. And Bry really wanted me—”
“Good girl,” Beth said, settling the matter.
“I’ll see him skate at sectionals, I guess.”
“Sectionals?” Beth’s bob swung emphatically. “Definitely not sectionals, kitten. We’re not flying to New York for a competition you’re not even entering.”
“But pairs skate at sectionals! Shouldn’t we be going to size up the competition?”
“Next year,” Beth promised. “Next year you’ll not only be there, people will be going to watch you.”
—46—
Lexa was finishing a biology assignment when Bry’s first text hit her phone. She snatched it up eagerly, grateful for any distraction.
my suitcase = 2 small. mom’s extra bag = 2 small. car = 2 small. help!
Lexa’s smile was filled with angst. Everything in her longed to be packed into that small car too, traveling to regionals with Bry the next day. She and Eric would be training in Mentor, though, exactly as Beth had predicted.
how much room do you need 4 sk8s? she texted back.
Bry: 2 costumes, backup costume, sk8s, backup sk8s, practice outfits, regular outfits, program CDs, lucky pillow, lucky undies, lucky snacks. my head may explode.
Lexa: if it does, Blake’ll kill you. it’s only regio
nals—you got this! :-)
Two hours later, she was stepping out of the shower when her phone chirped again. Jenni! she thought hopefully. It was regionals, after all, and if Jenni was stressing too . . .
Wrapping herself in a towel, Lexa dashed into her room.
Bry again: mom trying to make me carbo load. so 1980s!
She laughed. People forgot that men had to fit their costumes too. guys with guts don’t get gold, she texted back.
gold? can I make the cut first?
As if there were any chance he’d miss it. She couldn’t understand why he was so wound up about a competition he was certain to advance through, but she suspected it had something to do with being judged against Ian.
Trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep that night, Lexa attempted not to dwell on missing regionals. She was genuinely excited about her pairs future with Eric, but her thoughts kept creeping backward to Ashtabula Ice. Jenni would be skating too, and even though they probably would have ignored each other, Lexa really wanted to see those programs. Ian would be there, and Blake, and no matter how much sense it made to stay home, she still felt torn about not being there to support them.
Bry’s the only one who’ll even miss you, she thought. That knowledge didn’t make her feel better.
The phone vibrated on her nightstand.
Bry: can’t sleep. u pairs have it too easy!
Lexa: can’t sleep either. someone keeps texting me.
Her phone was silent five minutes before it buzzed again. She grabbed it, wide awake now and losing her sense of humor. Bry needed to get a grip, and she was just the girl to tell him so. But this latest text wasn’t his.
Ian: will u b there tomorrow?
Enough adrenaline flooded her veins to keep her awake for a week. Ian hadn’t texted in forever, long enough to make her think that whatever it was between them had ended as mysteriously as it had begun.
can’t, she texted back. have to train.
Walk on Water Page 14