Page 13 of Rinkmates

Spin, leap, glide—each element a testament to a resilience borne of necessity.

The final note of the music echoes through the rink, and I come to a stop. My chest heaves from both exertion and nerves as I hold my ending position. I raise my arms up toward the sky, feeling my spine curve as I attempt to force another smile on my face, desperately searching for any hint of approval from Grace.

I squint, trying to see through the blinding spotlight shining into my eyes.

It feels like being attacked by a pack of aggressive fireflies.

But was it enough? Was I enough?

Silence stretches out and my thoughts start to spiral once more.

My technique wasn’t exactly flawless.

With limited time and funds for proper rehearsal, or well-fitting skates, it’s been hard. I didn’t skate for five years. Yet, the familiar burn in my muscles reminded me that I still had it in me. Should be enough, right? It’s just a dance show, after all. Yet, this wasn’t your ordinary skate by any means.

If they pick me, it means I’ll have to skate two more times just to get onto the TV show, and then I’ll be paired with a famous celebrity. They haven’t announced who’s joining yet, but once we’re paired up, we’ll compete for amilliondollars. And that’s exactly why I’m here. The fast money. My one-way ticket out of hell.

And boy, did I need it.

I quickly glance at Grace, who’s jotting something down in her notebook.

I pray that the blue dress I had chosen would be enough. I spent extra time doing my makeup and curling my long blonde hair—because, in figure skating, looks are just as important as talent, no matter what anyone says. The pressure on your body in this sport is unreal.

I hope the curves I got over the years are a good thing.

“Thank you, Miss James.” Grace’s voice finally breaks the silence. “We’ll take a moment and then give our feedback.”

“Thank you.” I skate off slowly, my breath catching up to me.

I am gently escortedout by a crew member, my blade guards sinking into the plush foam boards that cover the whole floor as I make my way toward the backstage area.

I’m greeted by a makeshift room in no time with plain white walls and a cardboard floor. Along the sides, benches full of white ice skates and bags belonging to other professionals line the walls. A simple buffet is set up on one wall, while my huge suitcase waits for me on the opposite side, serving as a reminder of my living situation.

I’m practically homeless.

Plan B was a bust too. I was running like hell after that horrific encounter with Nina and Riley, frantically calling plan B landlord, only to find out that room was gone faster than a bag of chips at a party. But well that room wasn’t my favorite anyway because it had the toilet outside of the apartment. Imagine having to pee at night and leave the apartment. I’d die.

I find a spot on the bench to sit down, untying my skates. As I look around, I notice the girl sitting next to me staring in my direction. I’m well known in the world of figure skating, so I’m used to attracting attention, but her intense gaze catches me a bit off guard. In response, I lock eyes with her and find myself captivated by her beautiful features—her sun-kissed skin and that shining black hair.

We share a smile and continue removing our skates side by side.

“How’d it go?” she asks at some point, thankfully skipping the wholewhy are you backnonsense.

“Okay. I think,” I reply. I’ve never been one for grand displays. “How about you?”

“Oh, I have no idea. I hope I did well. Grace is so intimidating. She looked like I was pissing her off.” She rolls her eyes and a warm smile lights up her face, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth. “I’m Priya Patel, by the way.” She greets me with a firm handshake, her perfectly manicured nails matching a bold red lipstick.

Memories rush in of seeing her before I took the stage. My nerves had me all jumbled up then, but her routine on the ice was something else. With her red dress and the black hair swaying in the wind, she looked like a fire bolt.

“Your routine was beautiful,” I tell her, and she beams. “And don’t worry. Grace has a resting bitch face.”

“Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot. I’m surprised they didn’t let you in automatically, to be honest.”

I fake another smile. “Grace isn’t one to play favorites. I think it’s good we all have to prove ourselves first.” I slip my feet into the worn, gray sneakers that used to be white. They are scuffed and frayed at the edges but still comfortable. I hurriedly stuff my skates in my bag and drape my white cardigan over my shoulders, trying to hide my shabby dress from curious looks around me. From the glances I get, I think word has spread that I’m back.

But instead of constantly wishing I could disappear, I gotta toughen up. I signed on the dotted line for this TV gig, after all. If they pick me, they’re bound to grill me about it. There will be interviews, media coverage…it’s time to buckle down and get ready for the interrogation.

I sigh. Oh, if only things were that simple.

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