Page 30 of Wonderstruck

Still, beneath the panic andsecond-guessing, there was somethingelse—another flicker of hope, of possibility.

If this got me into Aspen’s classes… if this gave me a chance to skate againand find a little piece of myself in the chaos of it all… maybe it was worth coming out of my shadows for a while.

I wasn’t sure I’d love the idea ofdancing—or surviving the humiliation oftripping over my own feet in front of a crowd—but I’d try.

For Aspen’s classes. For the hope ofchasing something I loved again.

For me.

1.Ugh. I hate it here.

chapter nine

sarcasm and i are besties

“Idon’t know how to say this, Rhodes.”

Okay, then don’t. Seriously, Coach, save your breath. Let’s both enjoy the slightly sweaty atmosphere of your office. In fact, can I just leave? Because I have this weird, gut-deep feeling that I know what you’re about to nag me about, and honestly? Not in the mood. I’ve spent the last two nights with a kitten on my head. Why? Because Maple—the tyrant she is—has decreed it her royal throne.

Annoying? Sure. But did I pout and take about twenty pictures anyway? Alsoyes. What can I say? I’m a cat guy. Judge me if you must.

“Finn?”

Right.Right.Paying attention. That’s what I was supposed to be doing. Iblinked hard, dragging my focus back to Coach.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, scratching the back of my neck. “I’m operating on threehours of broken sleep—”

“And what do you want from me, Rhodes?A bottle and a bedtime story?” Coach leaned back in his chair, the green leather screaming under the strain. “This is exactly why we needed to talk. Professor Sawyer hasn't stopped bombarding me with complaints about you, saying he’s not happy with your attitude since the summer—”

Excuse me?

“Attitude?Attitude?"I sat up straighter,arms thrown wide.“No offence, but that’s a bold accusation for someone who hasn’t personally witnessed my radiant enthusiasm every Tuesday and Thursday at nine o'clock in the morning. I’m practically the human embodiment of a smiley face when I walk into his class. Him on the other hand? He looks like he's going through his second divorce in six months and hasn't found a good outlet for all his emotions yet."

Burtons face pulled, his head knocking to the side. "He is, actually."

Ah. Oookay then.

I shrugged. "Exactly! He's miserable and clearly wants everyone else whose happy with their life to suffer too. The guy's a sadist." Before Burton could shut me up, I shook my head. "Look, if I didn’t want to be there, I wouldn’t be. That’s how electives work, Coach.”

“Finn—”

“No, no, hear me out.” I leaned forward. “Do I love struggling to cobble together acoherent paragraph in a language I barely grasp? No. Is it hard? Absolutely. But the difference between ‘I can’t do it’ and ‘I don’t want to do it’ is… well, huge.” My hands raked through my damp strands of hair before looking back at Burton. “He’s got it wrong. I want to be there. I just… suck at it.” I settled back into my chair, nodding with my brows raised. “Big difference.”

Burton sighed like I’d personally drainedthe life force from his soul. But hey, atleast I felt better. Sort of.

“Well, just because you don’twantto suckat it doesn’t mean you don’tstill, you know… suck at it,” He said, with the kind of brutal honesty that could only come from a man in an ill-fitting track jacket.

I rolled my eyes. “Have you consideredtrading careers to be a motivational speaker?”

“Your grades, Finn,” he pressed, leaningforward like this was some big revelation. “You’re not a fourth-grader so I don’t need to spell it out for you. You know the drill. If they fall any further, and you don’t get your act together—”

“I’m out. Yeah, I know.” I waved him off,like this was old news. Which, spoiler: it was.

Still, hearing it again didn’t exactly feelgreat. Maple could’ve delivered that line with more tact, and she doesn’t even speak.

The wall I’d been building to protect myself, the one I’d piled higher andhigher so I wouldn’t have to face what was coming, was starting to give way. I could feel it, each brick loosening, threatening to crumble and bury me under the weight of everything I was trying to ignore. And this was just the beginning.

If I didn’t figure this out, if I couldn’tsomehow ace the finals at the end of the semester and deliver my oral like I’d been fluent since the day I was born then it was goodbye to the scholarship. To hockey. To everything I’d worked for.

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