Page 91 of Falling

“Come here,” he says over my hysterical laughter. I do just that. I walk into his open arms and wrap myself around his middle, falling into his lavender smell. His arms feel like coming home after being away for years. He rubs his hand down my spine reassuringly. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Better now,” I muffle into his shirt.

“Good.”

I give him one last squeeze before pulling apart from him as he catches both of my hands, beaming at me. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“I'm glad I was here. Someone needed to put him in his place,” Miles says.

“I could have dealt with him on my own.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“But I could have.”

He grins. “I know.” I stare at him because I know it’s coming. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“Miles.”

He laughs. “We’re a team now, remember? Me and you?”

I nod solemnly, but I can’t hide the smile that’s on my face. “Me and you.”

He smiles back at me, letting go of my hands. “The show’s starting soon, so I'll let you get ready.”

I nod. “Thank you, Milesy. I appreciate it.” He smiles at me again before nodding to the locker rooms, urging me to go.

I appreciate you,I want to say, but the words get stuck in my throat. In some way, I feel like he already knows that.

I keep my composure when I get out my black-and-emerald outfit in the locker room. I stay calm when I take off my leggings and sweatshirt. I’m fine when I step into the shower, but as soon as the heat hits me, I break down.

I allow myself to cry. I give myself fifteen minutes before I have to suck it up and move on.

I cry out of the pressure, the constant torment of trying to always do my best.

I cry for Austin, knowing that I have to do well in order to tell my mom after the show.

I cry over Augustus’s stupid comment and Miles's sweet words. Over his hugs and how I could have had more of them this week.

I get out of the shower and put on my costume. I look into the mirror as I apply subtle makeup to my inflamed face. I braid my hair into a bun and secure it with some bobby pins before I head out of the door.

The only pre-skate ritual or superstition I have is making sure the water is hot enough before I go on the ice. As long as I’ve showered, almost scalded my skin with the heat, I’m good to go. I accidentally turned up the heat once before a junior competition, and I won by a landslide. It was the best I had ever performed, and I’ve used a hot shower, some music, and the same hairstyle as good luck ever since.

When I get back into the small arena, people are already starting to fill the area. A lot more people than I thought would turn up. I search the slowly emerging crowd, but I only spot Sophia with a few other girls sitting around her. I can't see where Miles has gone, and I can't see my girls either. Before I can worry about that, my mom starts strutting toward me in her dark-blue pantsuit: a black handbag in one hand, and her phone in the other.

“Oh, Amelia. I’m glad I could catch you before the show,” she says frantically as she places her hands on my face, inspecting it. She tilts my face up to the side as she stares into the space between my eyes and underneath them.

“Hello to you too, Mother,” I muffle, as her hands squeeze my cheeks before she drops them. “Coming to wish me luck?”

“Yes, and I need to speak with you afterward.” My stomach drops. Maybe she already knows. Maybe Austin sucked it up and told her herself, saving me the torture of doing it.

“I need to talk to you too, actually,” I say.

She pulls out her phone and scrolls through it, ignoring me as she mumbles to herself. She always gets like this before performances. More jittery and antsy than I am. I call her name to snap her back into reality, but she’s still scrolling.

“Ah, it’s better that we talk afterward,” she says dismissively when she finally looks up at me, her pupils huge. “Remember to stay focused. Stay sharp.”

I nod, and she rushes off to her seat. I look up into the stands, and now, even more people are here. It’s still not as full as it would be at the hockey games, but it’s something. It’s better. I search the crowds and I see them. Miles is standing, no doubt, searching for me too, still wearing that stupid shirt.

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