Page 25 of Blade

When Ana finally exhaled, it was Jolene who put the pieces together, just as Mio slipped out from behind the curtain, skated to Indy, and helped her up and off the stage. Hugo followed after putting the palm tree back in place as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened, even if it was only the Orphans who understood.

“That was a message,” Jolene said. “To her mother—and Dawn. She’ll do anything to get home to Bobby Stark.”

Chapter Nine

Ana

Now

I watch Grace slip away, out of sight, then wait for a moment to follow her that won’t raise suspicion.

“We should go before the roads get bad,” I tell Artis and Westin. “I need to change.”

I leave the two men to sip their coffee and spin theories about Grace—and me and Jolene. I bound down the hallway, then up the stairs to Grace’s room. I knock. Once, twice. But she doesn’t answer. I try the knob, but it won’t turn. It’s locked from the inside. I hear the shower running.

Frustration takes hold, and I feel my body wanting to break down the door. First, those cryptic messages last night. And now this? Theshhhhwhen Westin asked me about Jolene and why she left The Palace.

Panic rises as I force myself to remember that I am not a child alone in the dark. Or out in the field. I’m not about to fall on a jump, or wait for Dawn to yell at me or dismiss me or surprise me with a hug and agood girl, try again, then dinner at her house, because she’s a skilled manipulator. And then the night when Emile joined us. When she invited him.

I am a grown woman. An accomplished attorney. Getting the truth out of traumatized children is what I do for a living, but it is also my calling. And I’m damn good at it.

Deep breath, Ana.I can’t force it out of her.

I turn away, ready to head downstairs, dig some jeans from my suitcase. A fresh sweater. Maybe comb my hair. But then I hear music playing.

It’s coming from down the hall. From Jolene’s room.

Music I know.

I find her door cracked open and go inside to see Jolene sitting at a small desk, watching a video on a laptop.

It’s music that I remember well—Rhapsody in Blue, the Gershwin piece from 1924 that pairs a piano solo against the backdrop of a jazz band. Controversial in the day. Challenging the rules, blurring the line between classical and pop genres.

On the screen, a girl in a royal blue dress stands in a starting pose, right foot draped behind the left, bent knee, blade resting on its toe pick. Her arms form a crescent on each side of her body. Her head tilts down, eyes closed. Waiting to begin. And then, suddenly, she opens her eyes, like a warrior called to battle, and pushes right into a layback spin.

I know this music—and this girl. I know the program—it’smine! My music, my free skate from an exhibition the one year I made Nationals. I’m stunned.

“Where did you get this?” I ask as I step inside the room. She seems startled and then defensive. She hits pause.

“It’s on the website. The Palace has hundreds of programs ... even ours.”

I walk closer, stand behind her. I can see the logo in the corner of the video. Then my name and the year. The music. On the right side of the screen are two paragraphs of text.

“What does that say?” I can’t read it, but I’m consumed now, with my image on the screen and the new facts worming their way inside me. I knew Dawn recorded our performances. I remember watching them with her as she pointed out every flaw, or every moment ofsheer brilliance. Riding the waves of her affection. Drowning in them. Starving without them.

Jolene looks from me to the screen, clears her throat. And begins to read.

“A bold program with music to match, beginning with a layback spin rather than the triple combination ...”

I can hear Dawn explaining the program to me as we stood together on the ice. The one o’clock session. It was fall. I had just started ninth grade.

I can see her skating in front of me as I follow her steps, copying the movements.The layback here, right in the center ...then around the boards, crossovers and simple footwork, arm variations to match the music but nothing that might slow the speed going into the jump combination at the other end of the ice.

Jolene reads from the screen, about the placement of the jumps. Most skaters started with their most difficult jumps because they were harder to execute on tired legs. But if you could do them past the halfway mark, you’d increase your score.

The description of my program continues, and I find myself almost immobilized by what I’m seeing. Is this really me?