Page 98 of Wonderstruck

At times like this, I was grateful that Aspenhad this protective older sister side to her. She was my only anchor to reality right now.

“And lastly…” She paused, her tonesoftening. “You made the right choice, Rory. None of this is a mistake. I can see it every time you step on the ice. You belong here.”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. And all of a sudden the reason why I was fighting back tears and trying to talk myself out of this fell from my quivering lips.“I wish they were here.”

“I know,” she sighed, her voice gentlernow. “But you know they’d be here if they could. And honestly, they’d probably just stress you out because your dad would make one of those giantbanners like he used to do and your mom…” Her eyes wandered like she was recalling the memory. “Well, I think you’re mom would’ve been the calm that you needed, to be honest.”

I looked to Apsen. “You’re doing a prettygood job at being my calm right now. I think Mom taught you a lot more than just skating.”

Aspen nodded, her cherry-red smileblooming. “Maybe.” She let out a little laugh, the airy sound mingling with the echo of the announcer over the tannoy. “But seriously, you’ve worked so hard for this. You’ve earned it. So go out there and show everyone what you can do. And if you fall—”

“Make sure the camera gets the good side ofmy ass?”

I’ve been spending way too much time withFinn. His sarcasm is contagious, I swear.

Aspen's laugh was every bit light, butexactly what we needed. “Smile and get right back up before you can get in your head again.”

Right as she took her warm hands in mine,shaking them as if passing over all the confidence she had in me, the announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers again. “Our final skater is Aurora Greene, from New York City.”

Her hands slid up to my shoulders, squeezing enough to distract me from the way my stomach dropped to my toes. “You belong here. Remember?”

That calm voice barely registered as I nodded.“I remember.”

Thehum of the arena buzzed faintly in thebackground, but it was distant, muffled, like I was underwater. My hands trembled slightly as I unwrapped the fleece blanket from my shoulders, warmth clinging to me for one last moment. I passed it over to Aspen without a word, her reassuring smile meeting my nervous one before I watched her head to the coach's den.

I could practically feel the eyes on me as Ireached the gate, but I squared my shoulders, letting my dress shimmer. The hem brushed my thighs as I walked, and the tiny gems scattered across the fabric twinkled under the lights like a galaxy. My sleeves stretched down over my knuckles, hiding my hands—and hopefully, my nerves.

The cold bit at my cheeks, making me blink,and for a split second, I wanted to run back to Aspen, wrap myself up, and beg her to let me disappear. But then my skates brushed the edge of the ice, and something in me shifted. As we became one, everything else—everydoubt, every noise, every what-if—just faded away. My skates glided over the smooth surface, grounding me, anchoring me to the place where I wasn’t pretending to be anyone but myself.

What on earth were you nervous about,Aurora? You know you belong here.

The thought made my smile tug higher, justin time for the music to start and the judges to set their eyes on me.

I’ve got this.

The first few notes curled around me like an embrace, and I let out a breath that felt as though it had been trapped since stepping foot into the building. My hands found their place, my body steadying itself as I waited for my cue. The subtle shift from basic piano notes to pretty violin chords made the opening twirl bleed into the first set of crossovers, each one measured, careful.

After lapping half the rink, Iprepped every part of me for the double loop. My knees bent. I held my breath. My back leg swung out. I launched into the jump, my body twisting in the air before landing with a satisfying scrape of my blade against the ice. A quiet “yes!” slipped out under my breath, too soft for anyone else to hear, but it made my lips quirk into a grin.

Whilst applause ebbed from the stands,carrying me into the next sequence.

They like me.

The music swelled in my ears, mingling withmy heartbeat, as it pulled me into the routine’s heart. Aspen had built the short program like a love letter to my strengths, and I could feel her guidance in every beat, every push. The delicate footwork sequence danced beneath me, the glide of my blades flowing effortlessly with the rhythm, and the pretty arm gestures all added up to showcase what I was capable of. What I thrived at.

But then came the jump combination, theone part of the program that always gave me pause. It wasn’t the most difficult on paper, but there was a timing to it that felt like threading a needle in mid-air. I circled the setup, my heart skittering in my chest as I found the right angle.

You’ve got this. Breathe.

I pushed off hard, the first jump spinningcleanly beneath me, my body snapping back into alignment as I hit the ice. There was no time to celebrate—the second jump loomed. My muscles coiled, and I soared into the air again. This time, my landing wobbled, my free leg swinging for balance as my clean lines turned wavey. The routine was lost on me for a beat or two, and before I could sink into the quiet tension that flowed from every single person in here, I gathered my breaths and caught myself before it could turn into a full stumble.

“Close one,” I whispered, a nervous laughbubbling in my throat.

The rest routine pulled me forward, into aspread eagle that sent me gliding effortlessly across the rink. I spun into the next movement, pouring every ounce of emotion begging to slip out into the strain of my legs as I committed to the lutz.

The triple.

I was back on two skates before I couldregister that I’d landed it. My heart was in my throat. My lungs burnt. And anyone would think by the reaction of the crowd that there was a fire somewhere.

---