Outside Edge (Knockout Girl Book 5)

by Natasja Eby

  His face brightens up, which kills me a little. “Yeah. What do you have in mind?”

  “Mrs. Claus still needs an outfit,” I say. “We could go look for one.”

  “Yes,” he says, nodding. “Let’s do that.”

  And just like that, we’re both over the kiss that never happened. Or, at least, one of us is.

  CHAPTER fifteen

  Brooke

  I take Adrian downtown where all the cute shops are. Just past Under the Mistletoe are The Polished Menorah, Bows and Bells, Tis the Season, and Christmas Year Round. That’s a good place to start. I park on a side street so we can take a walk around.

  “Boy, I don’t know where we’re going to find a Mrs. Claus costume around here,” Adrian says dryly.

  I snicker as I head towards Season’s Greetings, since they’re advertising Halloween stuff right now. “Very funny,” I say. “Let’s try in here. There’s got to be something.”

  And there is something. In fact, the store has three different Mrs. Claus outfits. But they’re all some variant of a “sexy” Mrs. Claus and I’m not here for that.

  “Well...” he drawls. “They’re not terrible...”

  “I can’t be a sexy Mrs. Claus,” I say, glaring at the well-stocked shelves. “This is a skating programme.”

  He turns to me with an eyebrow raised. “Um, have you seen those skating outfits? They’re all sexy.”

  “They’re aerodynamic,” I correct with a frown. “And these are not. Come on, let’s try another store.”

  The next store has nothing—unless I want to look like a 1000-year old Mrs. Claus, with a stupid white wig and frumpy clothing. I know it’s more typical, but it makes me want to run back to the sexy costumes. Hard pass on these.

  “This shop is a little offbeat,” I say as we go into an all-year Christmas gift shop. “Santa’s Helpers always has weird stuff, so we might be able to find something.”

  Inside the store, we split up. I go to the right and he goes to the left. I watch him as he takes in the full effect of the place. There’s stuff everywhere, with no rhyme or reason to where anything is stocked. His eyes widen slightly before he heads down an aisle and disappears from view.

  I turn down my own aisle, where there’s a long row of stockings. Some of them are typical colours—green, red, golden, silver, and navy. Then there are the others—hot pink, turquoise, violet. Is nothing sacred anymore?

  “Brooke!” Adrian calls across the empty, silent store. I turn my head in time to see him rushing over, calling my name again.

  “What is it?” I snip by accident.

  He doesn’t seem to care about my tone of voice. He just proudly holds up a sparkly pink thing trimmed in white crushed velvet. “This.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” he asks, holding it up to me. “This is a great colour for you.”

  He’s not wrong. Pink does look good on me. But still... “A pink Mrs. Claus? I’m not doing that.” I push it back towards him.

  “Alright,” he says dejectedly. He makes his way past the stockings and gasps. Tossing the pink dress over his shoulder, he shouts, “This!”

  “Adrian, can you stop shouting?” I say as I come closer to him.

  “No,” he says, pulling something off a rack. “This is perfect. An even better colour for you.”

  It’s emerald green, with silver threads sewn into the fabric in a leafy pattern. There’s some of that classic white faux fur on the sleeves and the hem of the skirt. It’s actually really pretty, but it’s got the same problem as the pink dress.

  “A green Mrs. Claus?” I say even as I reach out to touch it. “I’m not doing that, either.”

  “Really?” he says. “Geez, okay. Nevermind.”

  He tosses that dress into the racks with the pink one and then leans against the shelves with his arms crossed. He glares around the store while I keep looking through the racks. There’s nothing else here worth looking at.

  “Let’s go,” I mutter, heading for the door.

  Soft little snowflakes are drifting down now, making my bad mood worse. I plop down on a nearby bench and Adrian sits next to me.

  He puts up his hand and says, “Wow, snow!”

  “Yeah. Snow. Imagine that.” I know I sound like a grumpypants but I can’t help it.

  “I just never see it before Halloween, that’s all,” he says quietly.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  He turns to me suddenly and says, “You know that book Le Chandail de Hockey?”

  My eyebrows draw in as I think about that old book by Roch Carrier. “Yeah...”

  He smiles. “You know how in the book, Roch’s mom accidentally gets sent a Toronto Maple Leafs sweater instead of a Montreal Canadians one? And then Roch freaks out and he’s like, ‘There’s no way I’m wearing that?’ But his mom makes him anyway and it’s basically the end of the world for him? That’s you right now.”

  I can’t help laughing. Instead of addressing his actual point, I say, “Wow, you sound like you really know that book.”

  “Yeah, well...” He rubs the back of his neck and blushes adorably. “That was like my favourite book growing up. I was so obsessed with it my mom had to buy me three copies because I wore out the first two.”

  I smile at his infectious enthusiasm. “Is that what made you want to play hockey?”

  “Kind of,” he says shyly.

  My smile grows. “I like how at the end he asks God to send him moths to eat his sweater.”

  His eyes widen. “You know it,” he says happily.

  I laugh. “Everyone knows The Hockey Sweater.”

  “But like, you really get it,” he says.

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug. “I mean, sometimes I wish I could ask God to send me a million moths to eat all my skating outfits.”

  Regretfully, his smile immediately falls. “What? Why? They’re so beautiful.”

  It’s my turn to blush. “They just don’t...fit the way they used to. And they remind me too much of—” My own sob cuts me off.

  “All those times you performed in them?” Adrian says softly. “And everyone clapped and cheered, and all the judges gave you the highest scores in history because you’re the greatest skater ever?”

  I know he’s trying to cheer me up but it just makes me feel worse. “No. It reminds me of how hard I trained and all the crazy, stupid things I did to get that good. My imminent failure when everyone found out...”

  “What happened?” he asks when I let the sentence drop.

  I look away, blinking rapidly. “I was supposed to go to the Olympics this winter,” I whisper. The words cut through me like a double-edged sword.

  “I knew you were good,” he says in an awed voice. “But wow, I didn’t realize you were that good.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” A snowflake lands on my nose and I wipe it away, giving my eyes a good rub at the same time. “Yeah, I was good. But I wanted to be the best. You know those stimulants they sometimes give to athletes to help stay a little more alert?”

  He nods, looking intently at me.

  “Well...it got to the point where I pretty much lived off those.” I stop to swallow back a lump of shame. “I just wanted to do well. I wanted to be the best I could be and go to the Olympics and maybe even win a medal. And maybe—” I lick my lips, begging my tears to stay behind my eyelids. “Maybe I could have been good enough without them. But the more nervous I got, the more pills I’d take.”

  I drag in a huge breath while Adrian waits for me to finish the story. Darkness is falling faster than the snow and the streetlights start flickering on.

  “I made it on the team,” I say. “One of the judges even told me she thought I was the best one in the group. I was on a high for a week. And then...there was the drug test.”

  I glance at him as his whole body droops. He gives me a sympathetic look. I don’t need to tell him how the drug test went. He knows.

  “And the rest is history?” he asks.

 
; “Adrian, I…I tried to OD on those,” I manage to squeeze out past the lump in my throat.

  He takes my elbow, his eyes wide and says, “Seriously?”

  I nod and finally a tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. “It’s been almost ten months. I haven’t skated since then. Not until...”

  “Until you were forced to skate with a talentless hockey player?” he says.

  “Yeah, basically,” I say, letting out a humourless laugh.

  “That’s really rough.” He slides his hand down my arm to catch my hand. “But there’s always the next Olympics, right? You could try again.”

  More tears fall as soon as he says it. “No. I’ve lost too much time. I’ll be too old by then. And I feel like it’ll just make me want to…” I sigh heavily. “I’m just...giving up.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” He squeezes my hand. “But I respect your decision.”

  I look up into his kind, sincere eyes. Out of all the people who have given me the try-again-next-Olympics spiel, he’s the only one who’s told me it’s okay not to.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “Can you like…not tell anyone about me trying to kill myself and stuff?”

  He nods. “I promise. That’s between me and you.”

  “Thanks,” I say again.

  He smiles, but it’s a small sympathetic one. “Okay, if you think you can put up with my clumsy self—”

  “You’re not that clumsy,” I say, grateful he’s changing the subject.

  His smile grows. “Well, here’s an idea, then,” he says. “What if you got that green dress and we danced to ‘Greensleeves’? Christmas colours, Christmas-sounding song, an atypical Mrs. Claus who will distract everyone from the fact that Santa can’t skate?”

  I can’t help smiling, even as I shake my head. Adrian’s trying so hard to make me happy, to help me do the one thing I’m good at. Standing up, I say, “Let’s...go look at that green thing again.”

  “Yes!” he says, jumping up.

  When I see the dress a second time, it looks different. I check the size, but it’s in some European size that I don’t understand. Reluctantly, I try it on. Of course, it fits perfectly. I can’t not buy it now.

  ***

  Adrian and I spend the next two weeks choreographing and rehearsing a new Santa and Mrs. Claus routine based loosely on Marie’s video. We spend almost every day at the rink, sometimes twice a day when Marie’s teaching her classes.

  Despite what Adrian originally thought, the more he helps the little kids learn, the better he gets, too. While they’re getting steadier on their feet, he’s learning to soar.

  And when he soars, I do, too.

  The more we practice our routine, the more it kills me a little on the inside. In a good way. But also a very, very bad way. I haven’t felt this good skating since...well, ever. Especially not with someone else.

  When Halloween comes around, I don’t say anything about it and neither does Adrian. It’s not like I’m into the party scene anyway and I know he’d rather just ignore it altogether. Instead, we do our typical rehearsal and then he goes home before nightfall.

  ***

  Today, Marie looks a little sad as she watches the kids do their routine. There’s a part of the ice pageant where Santa sits on his chair and his elves do a routine while getting his gifts ready. Adrian was more than happy to get to just sit for an entire dance and right now his eyes are bright and attentive while he watches the kids skate around his chair.

  But Marie... She’s barely watching, which is a shame because the kids are so proud of their hard work.

  I lean close to her and ask, “Are you okay? The kids are doing really great this year.”

  “Oui, chérie,” she says, giving me a sad smile. “And I am so glad they’re doing well. We will go out with a bang, as they say.”

  I start to smile and then realize what she said. “Wait—what?”

  Her smile settles into a frown. “The pageant hasn’t been doing as well the last few years. The committee feels like they’re not—” she stops to sigh “—recouping their costs. If we don’t make enough money this year, there won’t be enough for next year.”

  “But—but—”

  Anger flares up in my chest. This was the very program that set me on the Olympic track and even though I’m not going, it doesn’t mean it was for nothing. I look back out at the kids giving their all. Most of them will be hoping to return, grow stronger in their abilities. Some of them could even be in the Olympics in four short years.

  “That’s not fair,” I say.

  “No, it’s not.” Marie squeezes my arm. “But life goes on.”

  Sometimes it doesn’t, though. Sometimes your life comes crashing down over something like that. What about the kids who have nothing else to do around here? What about the ones who love it so much that it’ll crush them to not have the programme next year?

  “It’s okay, Brooke,” Marie says softly. “Things will turn out alright.”

  “If you say so.” But my heart’s not in it.

  I wait for the kids to finish their rehearsal while Marie claps delightedly for them. Woodenly, I lead the girls to the change room. Out of pure habit, I help them untie their skates, but the whole time I’m thinking about how there’s a chance none of them will be doing this next year.

  I leave the change room long after the others. Like always, Adrian is standing there, leaning against the wall and waiting for me. His beautiful smile almost makes me feel better.

  “You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say.

  “Maybe not,” he says, his smile turning cheeky. “But it’s getting cold out, so I was hoping to bum a ride.”

  “Oh. Sure.” I start walking and he follows me.

  “Alright, what’s wrong?” he asks.

  I look around. Half of the Centre’s lights are off and there’s no one around. But still, I say, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  He takes the cue and follows me quietly. It really is cold out tonight, so I pull my jacket tighter around me. On the short drive over to Judge McDuff’s place, I tell him what Marie told me.

  “Oh, man,” he says, sounding as crushed as I feel. “That really sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does,” I say as I pull up to the curb.

  When he doesn’t move to get out, I lift my eyebrow. He smiles and says, “You gonna walk to my door?”

  I chuckle and turn the car off. We get out together and as we walk up to the door, Adrian takes my hand. My heart flutters and I look up at him. He stops before the stairs to the porch and turns to me.

  “I’m having a lot of fun skating with you,” he says. “It’d be a shame if they shut down the program.”

  I nod. He steps closer as a brisk wind blows by. I can’t seem to stop myself from leaning in as he reaches out to brush the hair from my face.

  “You feeling okay lately?” he asks. “You seem...more tired than usual.”

  “I’m okay,” I say with a shrug. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked this hard. And the caffeine-free diet doesn’t help.”

  He takes a step closer to me, making my heart beat double time. “You know,” he says in a husky voice. “Seeing you here—like this...makes me want lay you down in a bed—”

  Where is he going with that?

  “And make you take a nap.” His eyes crinkle with mirth. “’Cause, girl, those bags under your eyes just ain’t doing it for me.”

  I roll my eyes with a smile and take a step back. “Oh, my bags? Have you seen yourself lately? You look like you got decked by a boxing champion.”

  His mouth drops open and he lets out a surprised laugh. I turn around and head for my car, but then he takes my hand again. Gently, he whirls me around and suddenly I’m up against him.

  His eyes twinkle as he leans towards me and I only have half a second to decide whether I’m going to go for it or remind him that he had decided not to kiss me. But Adrian is too tempting to resist so I meet him halfwa
y. As he presses his cold lips and hot tongue against mine, all other thoughts slowly leave my mind until it’s just him.

  He puts his other hand up to my face and pulls me closer. Even though his fingers are cold, I feel like I’m on fire. If I could, I’d stay here forever, one hand on his broad chest, the other locked with his, and my lips on his. But he pulls away before I do.

  “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning against my cheeks.

  “Mmhmm,” I murmur since I’ve lost all ability to verbalize anything.

  With a dazzling smile, he drops his hands and spins around with enough flair to impress even Marie. I put my hand up to my lips—which are still burning from Adrian’s kiss—and smile. I could handle a few more of those.

  CHAPTER sixteen

  Adrian

  The days are quickly getting colder, but I’ve honestly never been happier. I don’t think I would ever admit this to anyone back home, but I love ice dancing.

  I think I might love Brooke, too, but I don’t want to scare her off so I won’t tell her.

  I’m just glad she still puts up with me, no matter how many times I fall, or push off on the wrong edge, or remember the wrong moves at the wrong times in our routines. She tells me that I’m great and that I’ll “get the hang of it next time.” She makes me feel like less of a screw-up, and that’s probably the greatest thing about her.

  Okay, no, the greatest thing about her is how she can effortlessly pull off a triple without even thinking about it.

  After we finish practicing for the day, I wait outside the girls’ change room like I always do. I used to pretend that it was just so I could get a ride, but I think by now Brooke must have figured out that I just love being with her. When she comes out with a smile on her face, I realize that she must like being with me, too.

  “The Holiday Festival is this weekend,” Brooke says as we leave the Centre. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been, but it’s, like, a huge deal to the locals. People come from everywhere to see it. Small-town lame, I know, but if you want to go with me...?”

  “Small-town lame?” Weren’t those the exact words I used to describe Bridgetown’s Tree Lighting to Elli? How I wish I could take that back now. “No way. Let’s go. I’m sure it’s a lot of fun.”