Walk on Water (16 page)

see you first :-)
she texted back. Then she sprawled on top of her bedspread, stressing about whether that had been too flirty.

She’d probably never know. Ian Wilde was about as easy to read as a Zambonied sheet of ice.

Lexa picked through the lettuce on her plate Friday night, avoiding the bacon bits and chunks of avocado. She’d lost three more pounds since Boyd had dropped her, but if being underweight made her safer, she intended to deliver. She didn’t have an appetite anyway.

“Is something wrong, kitten?” Beth asked. “Do your knees still hurt?”

Lexa slumped down further under her grandmother’s concerned gaze. “They’re okay. I’m just kind of . . .”

“Kind of what?” Beth prompted.

Kind of miserable,
Lexa thought. But how could she ever say that after everything her grandmother had done trying to make her happy? “Nothing.”

Beth reached across the table. “Tell me,” she urged, squeezing Lexa’s hand. “Something’s been bothering you for a while now and I’d really like to know what.”

Lexa tried unsuccessfully to reclaim her fingers.

“Is it me?” Beth persisted. “Have I upset you somehow?”

“No. Of course not.” The tears she’d been fighting for weeks filled her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“What, then? You and I can fix anything, if you’ll just tell me what it is.”

Lexa remembered what Candace had said about Beth throwing money at every problem, and it made her feel even worse. “It’s just . . . what if I made a huge mistake? Maybe Blake was right. Maybe I’m not cut out for pairs.”

“What?” Beth said incredulously. “Of
course
you’re— Is this about the fall? You’re still shaken up, aren’t you?”

“No. Well, yes. But it’s more than that. A lot more.”

The whole ugly truth tumbled out at last: Boyd’s ego and immaturity, his refusal to take any responsibility for errors, the drama with Temp and Ashley, Candace’s favoritism toward Boyd and real motivation for pairing them up. Beth’s face hardened by degrees, her eyes snapping with anger as Lexa repeated the conversation she’d overheard between Candace and the judge.

“I don’t want to let you down,” Lexa said tearfully. “I keep telling myself to just work harder, to make Candace at least respect me, but . . . this can never be what I hoped for. Boyd and I will never really connect. I don’t want to skate at nationals just to advance him and Candace. I don’t even want to skate with them next week.”

“Damn straight. I wouldn’t want you to.”

“But . . . then . . . the only alternative is to quit.”

“I’ll go make that call right now.”

A weight inside Lexa lifted. Her pairs dream had just died, killed off by her own hand—and to her amazement, it felt good. She searched for the right thing to say as Beth rose from the table. “I really appreciate everything you did for me, Grandmom. I’ll always be grateful I gave it a shot. It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

Beth stopped halfway through the kitchen. “Wait. You’re not quitting pairs!”

“Isn’t that what we just—”

“We’re firing Candace! We’re dropping Boyd like a bad habit. But pairs . . . We haven’t even begun to exhaust our options there.”

“So you’re thinking. . . ?”

Beth came back to the table. “You and me, you living here, being tutored by Clara . . . the rest of this is working. I’m going to fix the skating part, and I’ll make damn sure I get it right this time. You have my word. Okay?”

Lexa nodded, at a loss.

Beth smiled reassuringly. “There’s no downside here, kitten. You’ve passed your pairs tests, so whatever else Candace and Boyd may be, they weren’t a waste of time. We’re in a much better position to shop for partners now than we were before. So cheer up! Take a few days off and have fun with your friends. I’m going to fix everything.”

Lexa’s cross trainers thudded down the unpaved shoulder to the beat of the music in her earbuds. Her tank top was already sweated through and her shorts stuck to her thighs. The August heat had arrived early that morning, giving even the long stretches of shade beneath trees the ambiance of an outdoor oven. In another hour, running wouldn’t even be possible.

More than a week had passed since Beth had fired Candace, and no new partnership had appeared on the horizon. Beth had been on the phone every day, calling in favors and pulling strings, all with zero success. Lexa could only imagine what Candace was saying about her now—probably enough to keep her from skating pairs ever again. Instead of becoming depressed, though, she’d been working out harder than ever, combining grueling runs and swims with weightlifting at a nearby gym. When she did return to the ice, she wanted to be in top form—especially if she returned to singles, as was starting to seem inevitable.

It won’t be that bad,
she told herself.
It will be awkward at first, but it’s time to patch things up.
She missed Blake more than she would have thought possible. It was actually a relief to have an excuse to get back into his life, as well as back into his rink.
Bry’s there, and I’ll make up with Jenni. Ian will be around . . .

Lexa could think of worse situations; she’d just bailed out of one. In fact, the more she pondered returning to singles, the better she liked the idea.

Emerging from a patch of shade, she began the long low climb toward the top of the rise. Heat shimmered over the pavement, making her feel dizzy. She pressed on anyway, calling up memories of snow and ice like virtual air conditioning. Nationals was still five months away. If she rededicated herself to singles right now, she might at least skate well enough to earn another bye and set herself up for next season.

Bright spots danced through her vision as Lexa crested the hill. A car swooshed past in the nearest lane, not creating a breeze so much as simply stirring the heat. She squinted against the glare off its windshield as it disappeared down the grade. In the distance another bright spot winked from a turnout: the sun had found her Explorer too. Gravity on her side at last, she pounded down the final slope toward the parked Ford.

The car’s interior was unbearably hot, but the water she’d stashed beneath its backseat was still only lukewarm. She chugged an entire bottle before stripping off the soaked armband holding her iPod. Walking around the SUV, she opened every door, hoping to catch a breeze, then took her phone from the glove box. A text from Beth filled its screen.

Exciting news! You’ll LOVE this! Call me ASAP!

Her heartbeat had begun returning to normal, but now it revved back up. Exciting news? News she was going to love? There was only one thing that message could mean.

She wasn’t going back to singles at Ashtabula Ice.

“How does that sound? Any questions?” Lexa’s prospective new coach asked.

She shook her head, still unable to believe she was in the presence of Weston Kirk, supposedly retired former coach of Walker and Walker. She and Beth had already been at the rink in Mentor for an hour, during which time she had skated her heart out in short and long program auditions for Weston and seasoned pairs skater Eric Sinclair, but the entire experience still felt unreal. That Eric would consider her as a potential new partner was mind-blowing enough. That a legend like Weston was considering coming out of retirement to coach them . . .

“
I
have a question,” Eric said. “When can we get started? Because right now works for me.”

Weston smiled and Lexa shook off a feeling of déjà vu. She had only just met the man, but she’d been watching his face on TV screens for her entire life.

“Seriously!” Eric insisted, laughing as he gestured for Lexa to back him up. “I’m free as the wind. Let’s do this!”

He looked as if he’d been
caught
in a wind. A crazed mop of product-free curls framed his face like the aftereffects of a hurricane, and his old T-shirt was permanently stretched. He was a full head taller than Lexa, though, with muscles that made Boyd’s look puny. Twenty years old with the skating credentials to match, Eric Sinclair had been a senior pairs contender for the past three years. Three near misses had been enough for his partner, though; Katie Lane had just made the last-minute decision to accept fall admittance at Harvard, leaving Eric in need of a replacement and many other, more qualified girls clamoring to be it.

“Wait,” Lexa said, finally finding her voice. “Does that mean . . . Are you choosing me?”

“Do you want me to skate for you first?” he offered.

“No. I— You’re kidding, right?”

“Skate for me,” Weston told him.

Lexa watched from the boards as Eric took the ice. In addition to his own lanky grace, he had all of the speed Boyd had lacked. Eric had presence, power, passion . . . and he knew how to sell every move. Lexa gasped with admiration as he landed an effortless triple Tano lutz, his edges textbook clean.

“Oh, yes, please,” she heard herself say.

Beth laughed. “Works for me. Weston?”

Weston nodded thoughtfully. “Physically, it’s a good match. Their styles are somewhat different, but at this point they always are. My biggest concern is the disparity of experience, but that scale’s off balance in your favor.”

He turned to Lexa. “I see your parents in you when you skate. You have all of their gifts. But will you work as hard as they did? Do you want it as badly? That’s what matters to me.”

“I’ve wanted this all my life,” she said earnestly. “From the moment I first put on skates.”

“You started late.”

“And you know why.”

Weston’s face had aged since the days of her videos, lines deepening into folds, but his blue eyes were still as sharp. He turned them out over the ice, where Eric was skating the end of his program. “I don’t like knowing that Blake is opposed, but he won’t return my calls, so we can’t talk about it.”

“Don’t feel special. I mean,” Lexa amended as his gaze snapped back to hers, “he hardly talks to anyone, especially about pairs. Bad memories. You know.”

Weston smiled sadly. “Blake always was a half-empty kind of guy. Made him a fearsome competitor. But after all this time I’d hoped he’d learned to focus on the good things.”

Lexa stifled a snort just as Eric skated up to stop in front of them. “So what do you think?” he asked eagerly. “My tapes with Katie are probably a better indicator, but—”

“I’ve seen your tapes.” Weston looked back and forth between Eric and Lexa. “I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to pry me out of retirement, especially not during fishing season, but here we are, and I like what I’m seeing. I’m willing to give this a few months’ trial to see if it’s the right move, for all of us. Shall we say till the end of the year?”

“Yes,” Eric agreed instantly.

“Till the end of the season, you mean,” Lexa corrected. “Nationals is in January.”

“As we discussed, Beth,” Weston said.

“It’s too late for this nationals, kitten. You need to focus on training now, give you and Eric a chance to grow as a team.”

Eric nodded. “
Next
January. Hopefully we can skate some international venues between now and then, but the next time I compete at nationals, I’ll be there to win.”

Lexa twisted the ring on her thumb, missing Boyd for the first time. The Olympics were only two seasons away, and she desperately wanted to make that team. Could they really advance from a nationals debut straight into the Olympics?

Maybe, maybe not,
she thought.
But I’ll never have a better shot.
 

Weston Kirk and Eric Sinclair were a pairs dream team. If anyone could make her wishes come true, they could.

“I’m in,” she said with conviction. “Let’s do this.”

I should have listened to Bry,
Lexa finally admitted to herself.
He warned me this would happen.

She stared down at the pale turquoise box in her lap, then back out her windshield at the growing number of cars parked in front of the Kims’ property. She hadn’t been on Jenni’s street since she’d dropped her off after the bonfire, and she still hadn’t ventured close enough to be spotted from the house, parking well down the block instead. In the growing darkness, she wasn’t likely to be seen there, but she still felt conspicuous and unwelcome.

Probably because I
am
unwelcome.

Jenni’s annual birthday bash was always a major event, and the Kims had gone even bigger this year, for Jenni’s seventeenth. According to Bry there was going to be a live band in the backyard, a volleyball net in the pool, and outdoor catering involving a wood-burning pizza oven, a barbecue grill the size of two vans, and a Hawaiian shave ice station. All of the invitations had been mailed with tiny keys attached, entry tokens into a game that ended with some wildly expensive party favors. This Lexa had learned from Bry as well, because, for the first time in ten years, she hadn’t been invited.

“Show up anyway,” Bry had urged. “Jenni really wants you there. She just doesn’t want to look like the weak one.”

Which made two of them.

Exhaling nervously, Lexa jerked the Explorer’s door open and slid out onto her highest heels. Her tight new minidress rode up, forming bands of wrinkles across her thighs. She smoothed them out as best she could, then grabbed Jenni’s present and started down the street.

Jenni wasn’t an easy girl to shop for. She was trendy, she was picky, and she already had pretty much everything. Lexa had combed the mall for hours, determined to come up with a gift that said all the things she couldn’t: that she wasn’t angry anymore about a fight that had gone on too long, that she missed her best friend, that she desperately wanted to make up and move on. If a silver bracelet in Tiffany’s trademark blue box didn’t get those sentiments across, nothing ever would. At least it gave her a place to start.

A just-arrived group of guests lingered where the Kims’ long front walkway met the street, holding some sort of conversation before continuing up to the house. Lexa made out long bare legs, high shoes, and short skirts, but the girls’ faces were lost in the failing light. She hurried to attach herself to their group anyway. Tagging along in a pack would make her own entrance less noticeable, and while she wasn’t worried about not being let in, the less attention called to her missing invitation, the better.