Page 24 of Falling

“Don’t be smart with me, Miles,” she spits out. “No one has heard from you in months, and in case you forgot, I’m still your emergency contact. Miss Hackerly called me. Why aren’t you going to your classes? And how the hell did you get benched? Hockey is the only thing keeping you there.”

I feel the bile rise in my throat, but I swallow it, rubbing my temple. “Since when do you care? It was easy for you to lie to me for years. Excuse me if I want some mystery in my life to remain.” I know it’s a low blow, but it’s too late, and the words are already out. I hear her huff over the phone, growing more agitated.

“Get your shit together or you’ll lose your scholarship. Just go to your classes, and don’t fuck this up,” she warns.

I don’t know how many more people are going to say this to me before it fully sinks in. It’s so easy for me to say, “Yes, fine,” but it’s thedoingthat I can’t do. I can’t even pick up a hockey stick for God's sake.

“I’m going to figure it out,” I say after a while. “Bye, Clara.”

“I hope you do. And Miles…” She pauses, taking in a breath. “I love you. Always.”

My chest suddenly feels tight. Suffocating. This feeling has been happening a lot since Carter died, and I can’t get rid of it. It makes my breathing quicken, and it feels like something heavy is weighing on my chest, like I won’t be able to get up.

Since we were kids, Clara and I would end every “I love you” with “always.” It became a thing within our family, and even when times were hard,especiallywhen times are hard, we are supposed to say it.

But right now, the words dissolve on my tongue before I can get them out.

I can’t bring myself to say anything other than “Always,” as I end the call.

I take in a deep breath, dropping my head to the back of the chair, and vow to do something about this. If Wren is willing to help me get back on my feet, I’m not going to take this for granted. I need to get back on the ice this season. I need to do it for myself and for Carter.

10

WREN

MOTHER DEAREST

Since my parents’divorce six years ago, Melanie Hackerly has been on the quest to establish herself as a woman who can conquer all. She wanted to be the type of person people write articles about—the type of woman who could have hundreds of girls lining up to play her in a biopic. That was her plan for so long that when she was injured and went into coaching and teaching, she still found some loophole to get her to whatever stage she needs to be at in the future.

My mom has always treated me like I’m her student first and her daughter second. Sometimes, I wish she actually continued being a coach instead of becoming the head of the sports department at North.

There’s always been this immense pressure on my shoulders to perform for her. To fulfill this legacy that she never got to. My friends think that she pushes me too hard, but Mom thinks Darcy is too easy on me. I need the structure. I need the routines and someone telling me how to improve or I’m never going to get any better and the only talent I have will all be for nothing. I don’t just want to be good, competing in championships and competitions. I want to begreat.I want to be someone great and important instead of this stupid wallflower that I’ve reduced myself to become. Being so immersed in my skating, I’ve never had time for anything else. The little time I do get away from it, I try to spend with my friends, reading or writing.

My mom’s words might be biting and harsh, but I need to hear them. If anyone is going to be brutally honest with me, it’s going to be her. I used to think she ruined skating for me, that she took the fun out of it, but these last few years, I’ve started to breathe my own life into it. I’ve set high standards for myself and for what people expect of me, and the fear of letting them down is nowhere near as bad as the fear of letting myself down.

As kids, Austin and I never really saw anything wrong with my parents’ relationship. They seemed happy. Whole. They had the kind of love you thought would last forever. We had weekly family outings, birthdays were always a blast, and we had regular vacations. There was nothing that we could see to tell us they weren’t in love.

When you're told your whole life that your parents love each other, it’s hard to tell that the kind of marriage they really had was lacking it. You don't know that until you realize what real love is. Their love was nothing to idolize or aspire to. It justwas.

They kissed and said goodbye on their way to work; they always tucked us in until we reached our teens. Until one day, they just fell out of love. It was quick and simple. There were no arguments or name-calling, they just stopped. My dad told me it wasn’t our fault—because it never is—and they went their separate ways.

My mom’s current hyper-fixation is another recent divorcee, Mike, who has two kids from his last marriage. She moved out of our family home into a Spanish-style house in Centreville. My dad still lives in our family home, our childhood bedrooms still covered with the same One Direction posters I’ve had for as long as I can remember.

With Austin away, dancing for a prestigious ballet school in Russia, I’m my mom’s sole focus. Which is probably why she’s being so hard on me to help the team pick themselves back up. I’m not completely confident in Miles’s boyfriend abilities, but I’m going to have to trust him. I sent him a quick message to meet up on Friday, so I have to give us a chance.

“Any updates on the progress with the team? Darcy told me you all had a meeting last night,” my mom says, pouring me another glass of orange juice while she tops up her wine. It’s not that warm out, but we’re pretending it is, sitting by the pool in her backyard. Her house is huge for only two people, but it makes it a good spot to pretend to be vacationing every day.

“That meeting was a shit show,” I say, shaking my head. I know she doesn’t like it when I curse, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’ve never felt more useless than I did last night. “I can’t believe how terrible we are at coming up with ideas.”

My mom laughs. “Darcy wasn’t very happy that she didn’t hear back from any of you.”

I shrug. “There’d be nothing to say.”

We’re both silent for a few beats. The silence between us always feels deafening, even when we’re not talking about anything bad. There’s just never been that comfortable silence that I get when I’m with Dad.

“You are taking this seriously, right, Amelia?” my mom asks, using my first name to get under my skin. Amelia has never really fit me. I don’t know what it is about that name that I didn’t like, but the second I figured out my middle name was Wren, I made sure that’s what everyone would call me. There’s only a handful of people who actually call me Amelia, and I hate it.

“Of course I’m taking it seriously, Mom.” She holds her hands up in defense. I wasn’t trying to attack her; I’m just sick of feeling like I have to do everything all the time and I can never get a minute to do something I actually want to. “I think I might have something working out.”

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