Page 26 of Blade

Jolene hits play, and I watch my scalloped skirt float like a ribbon, pulled away by the centrifugal force. My body bent backward, one leg stretched to the ice, spinning on the front of the blade, the other at a perfect ninety degrees. Ten perfect turns, then on to the jumping pass.

The triple here ... land, right into the double, land and hold—two beats—did you hear that in the music? Hold the landing longer than they expect.A long hold made a statement about the jumps being solid, the body in perfect alignment on that outside edge. So perfect you could hold it forever.

And I see it now on the screen, my eyes focused on the stroking pass that set up the jump, backward around the corner, cutting into the center, then forward, stepping onto the left outside edge, a push into the three turn, then onto the back inside edge. Right toe pick digs in, propelling me into the air. Legs crossed at the ankles, arms over chest—it happens so fast, muscle memory in complete control, but then my foot is on the ice before I complete the three rotations. I forcethe landing, then spring up again for a double loop, just making the rotations. I’m on my feet but I know I’ve lost points.

Moving next into the double Axel, then a spiral sequence, combination spin. One by one, I execute the elements, and each time I pass the end of the rink where the boards break into two swinging doors, closed tight during the program, there’s Dawn, her face taut with anticipation, her entire body from her scrunched shoulders to her fisted hands, holding the emotions that I am not allowed to feel—not until it’s over.

Then the music stops, and I skate to those doors, desperate to fall into Dawn’s arms.

I’m back there now, remembering how she would open her coat and fold me inside it, drawing me to her body, where I could feel her heart pounding with joy—for me and what I’d just accomplished.

I feel Jolene’s eyes upon me, waiting for a reaction. I don’t want to give her one, but I’m reeling. I can’t take my eyes from the girl now frozen on the screen, wondering if Dawn will hold her tight or turn away because the jump was cheated. A flaw in the program.

Jolene sighs. “You were a beautiful skater.”

“Why are you watching this?” I ask her.

She shrugs, not sure how to answer.

“I ... I don’t know. I suppose I was curious.”

I feel the anger stir.

“Curious? About what?”

Again with the shrug. “About what happened to you here. Why you see this place so differently.”

A gust of wind thick with snow rattles the window, and we both turn our heads. It clears to reveal the gray sky and the white coating over the parking lot, cars, garbage bins. I search for the outline of the mountain and then the lights of The Palace, the access road, the fifth house. The clearing that is the field.

“You know what happened,” I remind her.

Jolene stands, takes my wrists in her hands and pulls them together so we are arm in arm, unified in our mission.

“Do I?” she asks.

I try to pull away from her, but this only makes her hold on tighter. The way she used to do when we were girls.

“What happened?” she asks again, her voice quivering. “What happened after we left?”

She stares at me, searching for answers.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. But she won’t relent.

“You were so excited to be here. I remember the day you arrived.” She gives my arms one last squeeze before letting them go.

“Of course I was,” I admit. “Because I had no idea what was coming.”

This memory is right there for me to see and feel. The way I saw and felt it then, but also now, after fourteen years of close examination, intentional and unintentional healing. From my years racking up achievements to replace the dream I’d left behind.

My entire life has been defined by the days, weeks, months, years that came after I was dropped off at Avery Hall.

“Don’t you remember when I used to cry in the closet—down in the basement? And how I would sneak into Indy’s bed when Mio was traveling? How I couldn’t be alone?”

Jolene’s face grows curious. Perplexed, even. “I thought that was because you missed home. And then your mother got sick ...”

I shake my head. “No—it was more than that,” I try to explain, though in my mind they all knew. The Orphans—me, Indy, Jolene, and Kayla. They all felt the same way about this place. How alone we were. How ill-prepared for this world.

Jolene walks the carpet, back and forth. “You stopped doing all of that—the crying and sleeping in Indy’s bed. I remember, Ana! You grew up—we all did.”