Walk on Water (8 page)

“You make it sound like I’m trying to buy you.”

“Aren’t you?” His tone drew a blush up her neck. “Look, Lexa, I don’t know what went wrong between you and your father. I don’t even know you, really. But when I skate at nationals, I’ll determine my own fate. If you ever even get there in pairs, you’ll always rise or fall by what your partner does. Someone skates perfectly, someone chokes—end of two stories. Why do you want to put your future in a stranger’s hands?”

She’d made a huge mistake, obviously. Not only had she offended him, Ian didn’t understand pairs at all.

“I’m sorry I asked,” she said, meaning it. “But it was a compliment, not an insult. You ought to take it that way.”

She was walking off when he called out to her. “Lexa? Really. Why are you doing this?”

Was there even a way to explain it? To reduce the beauty of two people skating as one to words he’d understand?

“Because on a good day nobody chokes.”

All the way back to Maplehurst, Lexa battled tears. Ian’s refusal hadn’t been a total surprise, but the way he’d essentially accused her of being spoiled, selfish, and disloyal made her feel like bawling. He didn’t even know her—he’d admitted as much himself—but that hadn’t stopped him from judging her.

It’s your own stupid fault,
she told herself, trying to muster enough anger to keep her eyes dry. Thinking Ian might want to skate with her had been nothing short of delusional. She should have just let Beth and Candace find her a partner, like they would now anyway.

Lexa’s new tutor was waiting for her when she finally entered the house. Clara Mendoza was a former high school teacher who had retired early only to discover that her bills hadn’t retired with her. To hear Beth tell it, Clara had been delighted to get her call, but in the days they’d worked together so far, Lexa hadn’t seen the same enthusiasm.

“You’re late,” Clara said as Lexa walked into the ground floor guest room turned schoolroom. It was a comfortable space, with large windows and long views of the estate’s sloping back acres. The bed had been removed to make room for a big work table and chairs, while a tiny antique desk was mostly decorative.

“Sorry. There was something I needed to do.” She didn’t feel like explaining what, and Clara didn’t ask.

They had just begun a new set of quadratic equations—an easy step back from the pre-calc Lexa had left behind—when Beth bustled in, dressed to go out in a cream-colored suit. “So? What did he say?”

“He said no,” Lexa replied quickly, before she could choke up again.

“Aw, kitten, I’m sorry. Are you very disappointed?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” If Ian didn’t want to skate with her, then she didn’t want to skate with him either. But that didn’t make his words sting less.

“I understand it’s not what you wanted, but you’ll see it’s for the best. At this point, at your age, you’ll be far better off with an experienced partner. Two green singles skaters would only double the learning curve.”

Lexa nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Do you two need me here?” Clara asked with a meaningful glance at the clock. “I could go get some coffee and come back later.”

“No, carry on. I have a spare coffeemaker somewhere. I’ll find it and set you up in here.” Beth paused in the doorway on her way from the room.

“Don’t you worry, kitten—G-mom has a plan. Give me a few more days, and you’ll be skating pairs.”

Lexa tried to remain calm as Beth pulled into the parking lot at Cleveland Ice Arena, but she was already a bundle of stress and the sight of her new skating home nearly pushed her over the edge. Everything about the rink’s exterior was clean, modern, and imposing. Even its parking lot put Ashtabula Ice to shame. “Wow,” she said, heart racing. She had competed at a lot of rinks, but she hadn’t previously been to this new ice arena.

“Best facility in Ohio,” Beth said proudly, parking her Mercedes right up front.

Following Beth inside through the two-story glass facade, Lexa tried not to gawk like a tourist. Centered in the entry was an enormous fire pit ringed by curved benches. On its right was the office and a shop stocked with an inventory of skating and hockey equipment that Blake could only dream of carrying. On the left were a snack counter and a glassed-in restaurant with a prime view of the ice. Risers dominated the rest of the space, enough to seat huge crowds for competitions and matches.

“Wow,” Lexa said again.

“You’re going to be so happy here. They have a members-only weight room, dance studio, locker rooms, lounge. It’s everything you need, right here in one place.”

“Do they have a dorm?” Lexa joked.

“Everything you need to
skate
. Clara and I wouldn’t dream of missing your company in the evenings. You’ll get used to commuting, kitten. It won’t be that bad.”

Lexa nodded. Considering what she was about to embark on, the drive from Ashtabula was the least of her concerns.

A fire-haired woman emerged through a doorway marked
PRIVATE
and waved when she spotted Beth.

“There’s Candace,” said Beth, waving back. “Come on.”

Lexa walked forward to meet her new coach in a state of disbelief. She had seen Candace Zaharian at competitions—Candace was hard to miss with her not-remotely-natural hair color and trademark full-length furs—but she had never spoken to her, not even to say hello. Not only did Candace coach exclusively pairs, she and Blake still nursed some kind of grudge from the days Zaharian and Gibson had been pitted against Kaitlin and Blake at nearly every competition.

“Beth!” Grabbing Beth by both shoulders, Candace laid up air kisses as if greeting an old friend. She was wearing a short white rabbit fur jacket, purple yoga pants, and—to Lexa’s delight—skates. “And you’re Lexa, of course. Are you ready to work harder than you’ve ever worked in your life?”

“Definitely.” She swung her skate bag off her shoulder. “Should I lace up?”

“Yes, go ahead. Might as well see what we’re working with before Boyd gets here.” Candace checked her watch, then turned to Beth. “I’ve got a pretty full day planned. Do you want to pick her up at four?”

Lexa heard her own gasp and hoped Candace hadn’t. “I’ll go get my skates on,” she said to cover her lapse.

“I planned to stay and watch,” Beth said as Lexa hurried off to the nearest riser.

Seven hours!
she thought, trying not to panic while she put on her skates. She wasn’t opposed to working so long; she just didn’t know if she could. With Blake, her training had always been broken up by school and her job at the rink. Conditioning classes and dance lessons were things she’d traveled to, allowing for rests on the road. Shrugging off her jacket, Lexa stretched down to touch her toes, then placed her palms flat on the mat beneath her blades, praying she’d be equal to whatever Candace dished out. She came out of her stretch to find Beth standing beside her.

“What’s the verdict?” Lexa asked.

“I’m staying.” Beth pointed to a spot at the top of the stands. “I’ll be up there, watching, and at lunchtime, you and I will eat in the restaurant.”

Lexa smiled at the belated realization that there would have to be a lunch break.

“Well, get out there. She’s waiting.”

With a start, Lexa spotted Candace already at center ice. “See you later!” she said, rushing through a gap between boards. There were at least twenty other skaters practicing in the oval. Lexa stroked through them directly to Candace, pulling up with a long two-footed hockey stop.

Candace glanced down at the snow Lexa had accidentally sprayed onto her pristine latte-colored boots. Her upper lip twitched with irritation, but the next moment she was smiling again. “So. Blake has coached you your whole life? You’ve never trained with anyone else?”

“Only Blake.”

Candace shook her head. “And no pairs training at all?”

“No,” Lexa said, embarrassed.

“Beth told me as much, but I still barely believe it. What was he thinking?”

“He was thinking I’d break my neck,” Lexa answered honestly, hoping to put a permanent end to questions about Blake.

Candace took the hint. “Well. What’s your warm-up routine?”

Lexa described the sequence of stretching, stroking, and warm-up jumps she usually began with.

Candace nodded. “Good. Start getting here earlier and run through that without me. For today, just skate until you’re loose enough, then show me your programs.”

“My singles programs?” She hadn’t expected to skate those routines ever again.

“They won’t be any use to us now, but we have to start somewhere. Think of this as an exhibition.”

Lexa’s mind raced as she stroked around the ice, pushing gradually faster, so deep in her own head that she was barely aware of her legs.
This must be what going to college feels like,
she thought, throwing a warm-up axel.
A brand new place, all new faces, nothing but possibilities.

She rushed through a few more easy jumps, then got off a sky-high double axel and a clean triple lutz, triple toe loop before skating back to Candace, proud to have kept her feet beneath her with so much first-day pressure.

“You can jump,” Candace said. “But we already knew that. Let’s see your short.”

“I didn’t bring my music,” Lexa apologized. “I didn’t think—”

“If you’ve been practicing enough, you should hear that song in your sleep. Just skate to the music in your head and I’ll fill in the blanks.”

Skating a program with so many other people on the ice required a different sort of concentration than skating in the clear: less choreography, more collision avoidance. If she’d had her music playing, the other skaters would have realized what she was doing and yielded out of courtesy. Now she’d have to rely on luck and reflexes. Taking her opening pose, Lexa drew a deep breath, and launched into her short.

Despite her clean jump combo in warm-up, she bobbled the outside edge on the entry to the triple lutz, turning it into a flutz. Her superficial stretching showed up in the spiral, where she couldn’t achieve her usual extension. Her combination spin could have been faster, but her layback felt perfect. She milked it a few extra revolutions, hoping to save a lackluster performance.

“Nice layback,” Candace remarked when Lexa had finished. “Good arch. Pretty arms.”

Lexa glowed. “Thanks. Layback’s my favorite spin.”

Candace smiled ironically. “Time to find another favorite, then.”

“What? Oh. Right.” Very few men skated laybacks, which meant that Lexa wouldn’t be skating them either—at least, not in the way she was used to. “I like other spins too.”

“Your sit spin could be lower. A lot lower.”

“I can get lower. I’m still kind of tight.”

“All right, then. Let’s see your long.”

Lexa was still breathing hard from her short. As she took her second opening position, she thanked Blake’s relentlessness for her ability to skate back-to-back programs.

She nearly lost the triple loop, but saved herself with a hand to the ice and nailed the rest of her jumps. Without the music to force her along she eased off in the spirals and footwork, catching her breath there. She made sure her sit spin was extra low and finished off with a blur of a scratch spin. Considering that she’d done all that in traffic without falling or injuring anyone, Lexa was satisfied with her performance as she skated back to her new coach.

“You skate with a lot of speed,” Candace said. “Your jumps could be higher, but they look pretty solid. That’s a relief because, quite frankly, we’re going to have to work on everything else.”

Lexa’s heart sank.
Everything
else?

“I know I had a few sloppy elements, but that long has eight triples and I landed them all. And in not exactly the best conditions,” she added, gesturing to the other skaters.

Candace laughed. “I do have other students. Blake has spoiled you with private ice if you think these are bad conditions. And as far as sloppy goes, sloppy’s not what I’m worried about. What’s missing out there is soul. I don’t see who you are when you skate.”

“Soul?” Lexa repeated, stunned.

“Technical difficulty is only half the mark. We need to see some passion out of you. Some sense of purpose. Tell me the truth: Is skating pairs really your dream? Or are you doing this to spite your father?”

“No, it
is
my dream!” Lexa said, feeling panic rise. Was Candace saying she wasn’t good enough? “I have plenty of soul,” she added, wincing at how pathetic that sounded.

“Of course. I didn’t mean . . . I just say what I see.”

Lexa nodded, tightening her jaw to keep her chin from wobbling.
She’s only being honest,
she told herself.
She’s trying to make you better.

Candace’s observations hurt, though, and her bluntness in the first thirty minutes wasn’t making for the happiest possible introduction.

“Oh, here’s Boyd!” Candace exclaimed.

The boy skating toward them was tall and wiry, but the smoothness of his cheeks made him look fourteen. His boots were broken in, but flashy new six-hundred-dollar-blades glinted beneath them. Lexa could barely pull her eyes off that bling as he glided to a gentle T-stop.

“There’s my star!” Candace said. “Boyd, meet Lexa. Lexa, Boyd Patrick.”

“Nice to meet you,” they both mumbled.

Lexa had never even heard of Boyd until the previous evening, when Beth had taken a call in the middle of dinner and triumphantly announced that she’d snagged him as Lexa’s new partner. “He doesn’t have any titles yet, but he did well enough in juniors that he’s decided to move up to seniors and commit to exclusively pairs. Candace says his technique is excellent—she’s expecting big things for him. This is so exciting!”

Lexa had been excited too. “How old is he?”

Beth’s expression had turned cagey. “I’m not exactly sure. Sixteen?”

“Sixteen! We said someone older than I am!”

“You’re going to skate with the boy, not marry him.” A shadow had crossed Beth’s face. “God forbid.”

“I just thought . . . I mean, we discussed—”

“Someone older would have been nice. I won’t deny that. But the only way to snag an experienced partner is if his former partner quits or gets knocked up or . . .” Beth shuddered off another bad memory. “On the bright side, you won’t have to worry about Boyd getting too old while you’re still at your peak. In fact, the way Candace tells it, you’ll have your work cut out just keeping up with him.”