Page 70 of Wonderstruck

This was the most honest I'd ever been with her, and I could tell she was trying to decided whether I was lying or not. If she came to the conclusion that I was then, again, I wouldn't blame her. But to help guide her off that path I reached up, slowly, and swated a rogue tear away from her cheek.

As my hand fell back down by my side, my fingertips still buzzing from the contact, I nodded my chin at her. “So, start skating and spill it.”

She hesitated, her head pulling back for amoment as the clouds of air disappeared for a second or two. But the longer I had herattention, the more I watched that facade crack. Her eyes sank, her shoulders relaxed, and like she was tired of holding up whatever shield she had around herself, she sighed.

Got you, Bambi.

She pushed back on the ice, eyeing melike she was more mad than happy that Icalled her out. But I didn’t care. Not when it came off cuter than she was probably hoping for. She started skating in lazy circles around me. I followed, keeping pace.

“I got a junior pass,” she said finally.“Which basically means the judges think I’m good enough to compete.” Her voice was tight, like the words had been knotted up inside her.

It took me a second to process, but once Idid, my brows raised. “Is that what Aspen wanted to talk to you about?” She threwher head over her shoulder and nodded. My smile grew in an instant. “That’s incredible.”

“No,” she snapped, frustration flashingacross her face for the moment she letme see her. “It’s not incredible. Because now I have to decide if I’m actually going to use it. And if I do, what does that even mean? Do I just throw away my life here? Do I drop out of college, ditch everything I’ve been working toward, and suddenly decide I’m a full-time skater? Who in their right mind just drops out on a whim? What if I get to regionals and I’m terrible? What if every other girl there is leagues ahead of me? Which they absolutely will be. I’ve been doing this for a month, barely two. They’ve probably been landing triple lutzes since they were three. What if I’m just setting myself up to fail because I’m sad and desperate and trying to chase some stupid, impossible dream—”

The vow I'd made to never see her crumble kicked in and I was behind her in an instant—overtaking and turning to face her, my hands on her waist, lifting her off the ice before her emotions could spill over.

“Finn!” she shrieked, legs kicking.“What thehellare you doing?”

“Getting you out of your head,” I said, spinning us in a slow circle. “Will you stop wriggling?” A chuckle slipped past my lips. “Relax. I’ve got you. Stretch your arms up.”

For a second, she looked like she mightfight it, but then I watched her chestrise and fall, and she tilted her head to the ceiling. Slowly, her arms raised, her body leaning into the moment, and for a split second, she looked like herself again—sunny, weightless.

“There she is,”I said, softly enough foronly me to hear.

I spun us once more, earring a giggle from Rory, before setting her back down. She stumbled a little as her skates met the ice again, but she caught herself, pinning me with a glare that didn’t land the way she wanted it to.

“And you think you're not bossy?” she muttered, but her lips twitched upward.

“Oh I know I am. But denial is a disease." I shot back, skating backwards and knocking my head. “Come on.”

She looked down at her fumbling hands for a moment, hereyes darting back to mine for a second, almost like she was wondering if I was actually there, waiting for her. I tilted my head, knocking it to the side, and after another sileant second, she followed.We glided together, lapping the rink oncein silence. Ihad to turn my head away to smile, several times, wondering what I’d done right to deserve a precious moment like this with her.

After a while, I finally turned my head toface her. Well, looking down at her, more like, given our almost one-foot height difference. “Why are you at Liberty Grove?”

Her eyes darted to up mine, those brownpools wide. “What kind of question isthat?”

“A real one.” My head tilted.“Are you here because you want to be, or because you think you should be?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the ice, her feet moving in aslow, steady rhythm. “I…”

I cleared my throat, taking the lead.“When I was little, we had to do this thing in school where we said what we wanted to be when we grew up. I said I wanted to be a hockey player, like my grandpa. Still do.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, curiosityswimming in them.

“What did you say when they askedyou?” I asked.

Her cheeks blushed for a moment, a difference I wouldn't have noticed if ourfaces weren’t so close. “A figure skater,” she admitted, so quietly I almost missed it. “Like my mom.”

The corner of my mouth tugged. “And do you still want to be?”

She didn’t answer. Not directly. Her brows knitted together, and I could see thewar going on inside her. It didn’t take long for her eyes to get fixed on her skates.“I don’t know what I want to be,” she whispered, finally.

I shook my head. “Bullshit.”

Her head sprang up sharply, her curls almost whipping her. “Wha—”

“You know exactly what you want to be,” I said, halting our skates. “You’rejust too scared to admit it. Because admitting it makes you feel selfish. But you know what? Focusing on your dreams isn’t selfish, Rory. It’s brave.”

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