Page 77 of Wonderstruck

Thinking about that girl, the one who used torun outside each morning to measure how much the edges of the water had frozen overnight, made me realise how wrong I’d been to hesitate about this.

As I neared the entrance to the rink, Ireadjusted my skate bag, its weight a strange comfort against the fluttering nerves in my stomach. I stared into the frosted glass as I reached the doors, half-expecting my reflection to talk me out of this.

Butwho was I kidding? I had to stoppretending I wasn’t excited about this.Because I was. I hadn’t felt this level of happiness nipping every nerve ending in my body this early in the morning since Honeywood. And that, to me, was the kind of inner progress I needed to focus on. And with that reminder, I took a stepforward, but before I could grip the handle, the door swung open with a sudden whoosh. Aspen’s voice broke through like sunshine on a cloudy day.

“Aurora!” She waved me inside, her grin a beacon. “Get your butt in here; it’s freezing.”

I eyed her. “It’s even colder inhere.”

Her gloved hands gripped mine, shakingthem with a giddy smile on her face.“Not for long. I’ll be surprised if you don’t melt the rink after we’re finished with the jumps I want you to rehearse.”

I eyed her again. “May I remind you that Ican barely do a double on all my jumps?”

She waved me off. “Details.”

Bythe time I stepped into the rink, her excitement had managed to wriggle through whatever nerves lingered on the surface.

Aspen’s tiny ponytail bounced as she led the way, her enthusiasm rolling off her in waves. “I’ve been up since five planning yoursession. You’re going to crush it. No pressure, of course,” she said, shooting me a look.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a little tensionslipping from my shoulders. Aspen had always been a tornado of optimism. Even when she was in my position. It was hard to feel scared when she made everything seem so… possible.

“Aspen?” I asked, dipping my eyes to mylap before forcing them to meet hers.

“Yeah?”

I chewed the inside of my lip, my handsfumbling in my lap as I pulled my sleeves over my knuckles. “I just wanted to say thank you." My hands motioned around the rink. “For all of this. For your help. For not turning me away. And for not forgetting me.”

Her head tilted, a blush I hadn’t seen beforerising to her cheeks. “After everything your mom did for me, I couldn't andwouldn’thave turned you away even if I was told to.” Her warm hands slid over mine, clutching them. “We’re family, Rory. Always will be.”

Family.

And here I was thinking I didn’thave anyone left.

My throat tightened, and I nodded quickly,biting my lip to keep the tears at bay. But Aspen had a way of cracking walls I didn't realise I’d built. And the longer I was wrapped in her hug, her warmth steadying me, the more I felt them crumbling.

“Thank you,” I croaked, my voice wobbly.

“Anytime,” she whispered, pulling back andclapping her hands. The softness was gone, replaced by her coach’s edge. “Now! Enough sappy stuff. Regionals are six weeks away, and we have a lot of work to do. Turns? Rusty. Jumps? Don’t make me cry. Stamina?” Her face cringed. “We’ll find out.”

I snorted, wiping my cheeks with the back ofmy hand as I stood. Aspen followed me to the rink’s edge, her sharp eyes already assessing me like I was an equation she needed to solve.

The moment my blades touched the ice, theworld shifted. My nerves melted into the smooth glide underfoot, my body reacquainting itself with a language I knew as fluently as French. The first lap was slow, and deliberate, but something inside me unlocked. Each push grew stronger, more confident. Like I’d finally let the idea of me belonging here sink in. My reflection blurred in the plexiglass as I picked up speed, the cool air brushing my cheeks like a familiar friend, whipping my wrap skirt against my thighs.

By the time Aspen called out a direction, I was already mid-spin. My arms tucked tight, and for a moment, I was weightless. The landing wasn’t perfect, but the thrill of trying—of remembering—buzzed through me. Memories tried to creep in, but they didn’t sting the way they used to. Instead, they felt like whispers of encouragement, not anchors pulling me down.

“Better,” Aspen said when I stopped in frontof her, panting. “You’re not there yet, but you will be. Grab some water.”

I nodded, sweat dripping down my templesas I stepped off the ice. My legs wobbled a little, but it was the good kind of tired. I reached for my phone, unscrewing my water bottle as I glanced at the screen. A message lit up the display.

finn

today at 9:45am

hey, how’s training?

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching into asmile as I typed back.

how did you know i had training?

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