Jesse and the Ice Princess (Gulf City High Book 1)

by Michelle MacQueen

  Delicious? What did that even mean? Charlotte scowled. "That makes no sense."

  Hadley kicked her under the table. "She means it sounds fun."

  He laughed. "Yeah, sure." Then he moved on to talk to a couple of girls at the next table who might actually swoon over him.

  "What is your problem?" Hadley hissed.

  "Roman Sullivan is a jerk."

  "What did he say that was jerk-like?" She shook her head. "Those boys..." She nodded to where Roman had joined Jesse. "Come on, even you have to admit they're totally cute."

  "I don't have to admit anything. I don't even know why they're at the top of this school. Their team sucks."

  "You take that back." Hadley chewed on her lip, a clear sign even she didn't believe her next words, words the entire school pretended were true. "They're awesome."

  "No, they're not. They haven't won a single game. Not even my dad can help their incompetence. This school shouldn't be obsessed with a loser team who can't give their fans anything to cheer about."

  "Loser team, huh?" Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she was imagining the voice.

  "Hadley, tell me Jesse isn't standing in front of us."

  "Sorry, babe." Hadley laughed. "Might want to open your eyes."

  Charlotte lifted her face to regard Jesse Carrigan. "Do you make a habit of listening to private conversations?"

  His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. "Do you make a habit of trashing your dad's hockey team?"

  "Did I say anything that wasn't true?" She refused to be just another one of the girls in this school who did whatever "the king" said.

  "Why don't you like me, Morrison?" He sounded genuinely curious, like it was a preposterous notion for someone not to worship the ground he walked on.

  "Well, Carrigan, you've never given me a reason to." She narrowed her eyes. "Maybe try winning a game. Then you might at least have my respect."

  "We can't all be robots in tulle, Ice Princess."

  Charlotte opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out.

  Instead, Hadley leaned forward. "My girl could skate circles around your little hockey players. Move along to people who actually want to talk to you." Charlotte had never appreciated Hadley more than in that moment. She was one of those girls who wanted to talk to Jesse and Charlotte knew it. She had a weird obsession with the popular crowd. And for the most part, they liked her. She could have been one of them, but she never wanted to abandon Charlotte.

  Jesse pursed his lips, surveying her for a moment longer as if searching for cracks in her fragile china facade.

  "Jess," Roman called. "Leave the girl alone. She's too good for this school, right Charlotte?"

  Charlotte's cheeks reddened, and she ducked her head, avoiding her classmates’ stares.

  Jesse sat at the table behind her with Roman, and Charlotte wondered if she imagined his whispered words. "That was mean, dude."

  Roman waited a moment before responding. "And what she said wasn't?"

  "Yeah, but we're better than that."

  Charlotte should have felt good about Jesse chastising Roman for embarrassing her, but his words bounced around her brain. We're better than that.

  Ice Princess wasn't just a nickname. They truly thought she was cold, devoid of any kind of emotion, programmed to care about perfection above all else.

  Leaning toward Hadley, she dropped her voice. "Thanks for the save."

  Hadley only shot her a glare as Mr. Thompson stepped up to the front of the class and turned on the projector.

  Charlotte opened her notebook and tapped her pencil against the page, but her head wasn't in class. She didn’t care about the chemical equation in front of her or the fact that a single unbalanced equation would wreck her perfect record in that class.

  By the time the bell rang, she'd only written a single line of notes. Normally, Hadley borrowed notes from her, but maybe she'd do the borrowing this time.

  They walked into the crowded hall and Hadley's fingers closed around Charlotte's arm. "Come on. We need to talk."

  She pulled her through the swinging doors of the library. An older woman with thick-framed glasses lifted her head and smiled at them. Hadley led Charlotte past the computer terminals and down an aisle of books where two beanbag chairs waited for eager readers.

  "I'm going to be late for study hall." Charlotte could count on one hand the number of times she'd been late to class.

  "Charlie, it's study hall. They don't even take attendance." She dropped into a beanbag. "I don't feel like going to Brit Lit."

  "It's the first day back from break."

  "Okay, Mom. I promise I'll do better tomorrow." She gestured to the other beanbag. "Sit."

  Charlotte glanced back down the aisle, nerves tumbling in her stomach. She'd never even skipped study hall, but Hadley was right, they didn't take attendance.

  She lowered herself to the beanbag and crossed her ankles.

  Hadley sat pretzel style and pulled her sleeves down over her hands. "Charlie, we have one semester left in this school."

  "Thank God."

  "Contrary to what you believe, some of us actually like it here." She folded her arms over her chest. "Tough love time, girly. I'm going to start by saying I will defend you to the ends of the earth. I don't care who you're sparring with, I will always be on your side."

  "I don't deserve a friend like you."

  "Of course, you do. We all deserve people in our corner. Now, it's time for you to be in mine."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Stop making me defend you to the likes of Jesse Carrigan."

  "Why? He's—"

  Hadley cut her off. "Adorable. Smoking hot. Actually a nice guy when he isn't talking to you."

  "Wait..." Charlotte's eyes widened. "You have a thing for "the king"?"

  "Well, that's an awful nickname, but... yes?"

  Charlotte didn't know whether to laugh or stop breathing altogether. This was it, the moment she lost Hadley to them. She'd always known this day would come. Who would choose her over someone like Jesse Carrigan?

  "Oh." Her cheeks heated. "But you just said some mean stuff to him."

  "For you. Please don't make me do it again."

  "What are you asking here?"

  Hadley stared at her for a moment. "Okay, so I know the whole ice princess thing is kind of bad and people use it to make fun of you... but there might be a little truth to it." Her words came out in a rush, like she just needed to get them out.

  They struck Charlotte like a spear straight through the heart. "Are..." She took a deep breath. "Are you saying I'm cold?"

  "No. Yes. Maybe. Don't be mad, Charlie."

  She'd known her classmates thought that of her, but not her best friend, the one person who was supposed to know her better than anyone.

  "So, let me get this straight." Charlotte averted her eyes from Hadley’s. "You want me to change so you can fit in with Jesse's crowd?"

  "Change? No. Just..."

  "Because that's what it sounds like."

  "I'd never try to change you, Char."

  Charlotte got to her feet and brushed the creases out of her skirt. "Yeah, I used to think so too." She looked down at her friend. "I'm not cold, Hadley. Some of us weren't born with the natural social skills. I thought you understood that."

  "I do."

  "But not as much as you understand what a guy like Jesse Carrigan wants." She couldn't look at her friend anymore and walked away without another word. Hadley didn't follow her.

  So what if she spent all her time at the rink training? That didn't mean she was cold or a robot. She skipped study hall, didn't she? Was it so wrong to strive for perfection? To want to be the best at everything she did?

  Trying not to think of Hadley's words, she operated the next few hours on autopilot.

  It wasn't wrong for her friend to develop a crush on someone, but she didn't see the appeal of an arrogant boy like Jesse, one who let the entire school call him "the king." She imag
ined the rest of his life was just as charmed as the hours he spent inside that building.

  Did he have parents who bent to his every whim like their peers? Did they tell him they were proud despite the fact he led a losing team?

  Charlotte's mom was disappointed with anything less than first place. Even that wasn't good enough when she knew her daughter would never make it onto the world stage. Charlotte went through life constantly feeling like she was letting people down. No amount of winning solved that.

  She just never expected Hadley to make her feel like that as well.

  She went through the rest of her day as she always did, apart from everyone else, a wall of ice between her and the rest of the world.

  When Hadley wasn't waiting for her by her car at the end of the day like she normally did, Charlotte had never felt more alone.

  The slamming of the front door reverberated through the house, and Charlotte sat up on her bed. She'd been reading since she got home but didn't want her mom to catch her.

  Every morning before school, Charlotte got to the rink for a training session. The afternoons and evenings were saved for conditioning. It was the first day in months she'd skipped her afternoon run—but her mother didn’t need to know that.

  She slid off her bed and stepped into the hall to lean against the stair railing. Her mother's tight eyes didn't stare up at her; instead, her father grinned. "How's my girl today?"

  Charlotte rarely got any time alone with her dad. It was as if her parents decided when she was young that she belonged to her mom to mold and shape. If she'd been a boy, would her dad have taken more of an interest?

  Her dad shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. "Have you eaten dinner?"

  "No." Charlotte descended the stairs. Both her parents usually worked at the rink through dinner. Her mom left pre-made meals in the fridge for her, tasteless low-calorie dishes.

  Her dad held up a white sack. "I stopped at Emma's."

  Charlotte's stomach rumbled at the smell coming from the sack. Emma's was her favorite restaurant, but she had to hide her trips there from her mom. The diner was a tribute to Emma Bay, an old Hollywood actress. It was pretty much the coolest place in Gulf City. Hadley had introduced her to the wonders of their food years ago.

  "What did you get me?" Charlotte took the bag.

  "Hollywood sliders with cheese." He grinned like that made him father of the year. In her book, it did. "Oh, and zucchini fries with that aioli stuff you love so much."

  An uncharacteristic squeal left her mouth. "Thanks, Dad." She took the bag to the kitchen and retrieved two plates. "What are you doing home early?"

  "There's a birthday party at the rink tonight, so we're closed for anything else. It's not like I can get any work done with kids yelling everywhere."

  Charlotte suppressed a grin. Her dad wasn't a kid person, yet he owned a rink catering to them. "How was practice?" She might not like the guys on his team, but she always enjoyed talking about the game with him. Small moments alone like this were the only time her mom didn't steer the conversation toward figure skating topics.

  She'd never admit it to her mom, but she found hockey much more exciting.

  "I don't know what to do with these boys." He led her into the living room and flipped on the TV, turning it to a Lightning game before settling into his recliner. "It's like most of them have never taken skating lessons in their lives."

  She laughed but covered it up by biting into her juicy slider. It tasted like heaven, much better than the dry chicken and asparagus her mom told her to eat tonight. "Can't you teach them to skate?"

  He lifted a brow. "I was never the best skater in my career, but I made up for it with other talents."

  "You can say it." She grinned. "Fighting. They ignored your skating because you were good at pummeling people."

  "Hey now." He feigned affront. "This is your father you're speaking to."

  She laughed. "Have you ever thought of giving up?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why do you keep coaching a team that isn't getting any better? They kind of suck, Dad."

  "Kiddo, you can't just give up because you face adversity. Not everyone was blessed with your God-given talent."

  "I've worked for this talent."

  "I never said you didn't. But my guys... they love the game. They have fun playing together, and I have fun coaching them. I wouldn't give that up just because of a few losses."

  His guys. Sometimes, she wondered if her dad loved his team more than he loved her. He certainly spent more time with them. Not that she blamed him. He loved hockey. Heck, she did too. But only one of them was stuck in this rut where they had to choose one or the other.

  Hockey or figure skating.

  Her mom or her dad.

  Only her parents knew she'd trained in both sports, not making her decision until she hit competition age for figure skating. She loved her sport, she really did. But she didn't know when it had become her entire life.

  The TV announcer started talking as the teams skated off the ice for intermission. Charlotte finished eating in silence, soaking in the talk of strategy and technique of a sport that revolved around teams, not individual accomplishments.

  She once asked her mom if she could try pairs skating—just to have a partner, someone to go through the highs and lows with. Her mom's response? "Why would you share the spotlight?"

  Charlotte never wanted the attention. She cared little for the flowers thrown at her or the medals looped around her neck. All she'd ever wanted to do was skate.

  "Hey, Charlie?" Her dad's voice was tentative.

  She met his gaze. "Yeah?"

  "I was thinking of heading downstairs to do some shooting. Do you... want to join me?"

  He hadn't asked her to shoot around with him since she was a kid. "I should go for a run before Mom gets home."

  "Aw, come on. Give your old man a break. You can slack off for a night." He gestured to the empty cardboard box in her lap. "You've already killed your diet."

  "You're a bad influence on me, Dad." She couldn't help but smile.

  He winked. "What are dads for?"

  "Um, I don't know. Protection, making sure I follow the rules, giving me your credit card for a shopping spree."

  "Nice try." He pulled on her braid. "We can tell your mom it was my fault."

  Charlie stood. "Well, it is your fault."

  He draped an arm over her shoulders and squeezed her to his side. "You're trouble."

  She snorted. They both knew she was anything but trouble. Leaving their trash in the living room, they headed for the stairs. Her mom would silently seethe at the mess they left behind. That was her style.

  Sometimes, Charlotte wondered how her parents worked. They were so different. But they got each other, loved each other.

  Down in the basement, her dad's sheet of Glice spread before them with a net at one end. Padded walls surrounded the surface, reaching to Charlotte's chest.

  On the back wall, a rack of skates beckoned to her. She ran a finger over the row belonging to her. Three old pairs of figure skates and one barely-used pair of hockey skates.

  She pulled out her favorite pair of worn figure skates. She'd kept the blades sharpened for the rare moments she could come down here by herself and just enjoy being on the synthetic ice. The laces were stained from too much use, therefore making them unsuitable for competition—according to her mother.

  Slipping into them was like seeing an old friend after a long time away. No pair of skates since had been so comfortable or brought back so many good memories.

  Beside her, her dad laced up his skates and stood. He grabbed two hockey sticks from where they leaned against the wall and extended one to Charlotte as soon as she joined him.

  Her fingers curled around the wooden stick instinctively. Her dad was old school, preferring wood to fiberglass.

  They skated to the center of the Glice surface, and her dad dumped a bag of rubber pucks.<
br />
  "No foam balls?" She quirked an eyebrow. When she was younger, he only let her shoot with children's toys.

  "I think you've graduated from that."

  She didn't tell him that when he wasn't there, she came to the basement and pretended she was one of his players, that sometimes she wondered what it would be like to streak up the ice during the middle of a hockey game with a puck on her stick.

  She never dared show him what she could do, not really believing it herself. It didn't matter how quickly she could go from forehand to backhand, she wouldn't match up to those boys, even losing ones.

  Figure skating was her sport. Not hockey.

  Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she lined up across from her dad, bending low for the face-off. He grinned as he dropped the puck and won it from her. No one would ever say either of her parents went easy on her.

  Charlotte chased him around the small surface. He might be able to stickhandle the puck away from her, but he couldn't out-skate her. Moving backward, she faced him. Every time he tried to get around her, she twisted to the side and blocked him, thankful for the strength in her ankles from years of training.

  He laughed. "If anyone on my team could skate like you, we might have a fighting chance."

  "Your prized Jesse can't?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  Her father stopped skating. Charlotte, not paying attention, rammed into the padded wall behind her and fell to the ground.

  "Has Jesse been giving you trouble?"

  At her dad's question, she sat back against the wall, her yoga-pant clad legs stretched out in front of her. How could she answer that question? Yes, he was a problem, but it wasn't completely his fault. She'd managed to avoid thinking of Hadley all evening despite her friend's constant texts. They all went unread.

  "He's fine, Dad." The last thing she needed was him going all cave-dad on one of his own players.

  "You'd tell me if any of the guys were causing issues, right?"

  "Sure." Not likely. She knew it was the guys from the team that had started her ice princess nickname. They saw her around the rink when she was single-minded about her training and not interested in their chit-chat.

  "They aren't allowed to touch you."