Page 12 of Rinkmates

Who would have thought that I’d land here one day?

Reality shows were not part of my plan—ever. But here I am, trying to snag a spot in one. Talk about a plot twist.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m waiting for. But the sound of my music has always been my cue to start. I just try to maintain my posture and wait for the crew to start the song I chose.

I look confident. At least I hope I do.

But deep inside, I am so jittery that I’m questioning my choice of drinking four cups of coffee on the way here. No one should drink this much coffee in an hour.

My heart pounds like a runaway train, thudding against my chest as I take in the figure skaters standing behind the rink, waiting for their shot. The arena is filled with top-level skaters, all dressed in colorful and attention-grabbing outfits.

I stare back, practically hearing them gossiping and nodding at me like I’m some kind of spectacle. It’s like they’re not even here to perform. They’re here for the drama—to find out about all the thousands of mistakes that landed me here.

“One minute, we need to get the cameras right,” a booming voice rears up again.

“Okay!” I say to wherever that voice came from.

Fidgeting with the thin, see-through fabric of my cheap Craigslist dress, my heart sinks as I notice missing pearls on the neckline and fraying edges along the hem. Oh for crying out loud. Everyone else in the room seems to be dripping in designer gowns and sparkling jewelry, making me feel so out of place.

What if they know that I lived in a trailer for the past few years? What if it shows that I ate nothing but cheap food, what if— No. I shake the thoughts off and remind myself why I’m here.

It’s my shot at a fresh start.Heneeds me to be strong for the both of us, and I am.

I try not to think about how I’ve scrimped and saved these last few months, scraping together enough to get some practice time in. Rink fees aren’t kind to the wallet of a waitress who used to compete on the world stage.

I lift my arm over my head and stretch. I’ve got this under control.

I’m no stranger to skating. This shouldn’t be difficult for me. Yet, this audition feels like the most challenging thing in the world. I take a deep breath and force a smile onto my face, straining to see the judges through the bright lights on the stage across from me.

“Music starts in three,” another faceless voice behind the glare of several studio lights calls out.

My eyes adjust to the lights and land onGrace Holland, the mastermind behind this TV show that bears her name:Grace on Ice.She was a former US pairs figure skating champion. She and her partner, Maxwell, werethefigure skaters in the United States. No one has won as many medals as them to this day. She was my idol and now she holds my fate in her hands. If she says no, I can’t take part in her show. And it’s my only chance at a normal life again.

“Sixty seconds!”

Letting go of the hem of my skirt, I force myself to get into my starting position, flashing an even bigger smile for Grace as her cold eyes follow my every step. Her once fiery red hair is now tucked into a sleek, gray bun. Her piercing blue eyes hold an intense stare. The chairs on either side of her are empty, leaving me alone to face her judgment. My heart races as I try to maintain my composure, but her presence alone makes me feel small and insignificant. Memories flood my mind—she was a judge at the US Figure Skating Championships where I won in my category. But that was five years ago, and when it comes to skating, five years is a lifetime.

I raise my hands over my head.

When another voice counts down from ten, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I feel the hot light on me.

Five. Four. Three.

I open my eyes.

Two.

I position my foot to push me off.

One.

The music starts and muscle memory kicks in.

Gliding onto the ice, I carve deep arcs with each stroke of my blades, the cold surface whispering beneath me. As I build speed, my body tenses with anticipation, ready to execute the intricate dance of jumps and spins that have defined my life. With a powerful push, I take off from a backward edge, jump, and rotate in the air before landing it perfectly. When the music amps up, I kick it into high gear, riding the wave, and when it calms down, I gracefully move my hands in fluid motions, allowing them to follow the beat as if they have a mind of their own while I swirl and jump.

The melody switches, getting more desperate, and I lose myself in the choreography.

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