Page 7 of Blade

Mio Akasawa, the Japanese national champion, could land triple Axels in her sleep—and Ana was now one of probably only a handful of people in the entire world who knew she liked stupid cat posters.

Connie nodded as she took in more information from Edie about this place where she was about to leave her daughter. The boys’ wing on the other side of the building, meals and laundry and the car service if the weather gottoo inclementfor a bike.

Her face tightened, exposing the worry lines between her eyes.

“Mio keeps this room year-round, though I never know when she’ll be here,” Edie explained. “But she’s older, and I think that will be good in this situation. Ana is younger than the others.”

She said this with sympathy, like she felt sorry for Ana. But this morphed into resignation when she heard laughter out in the hall.

“Ana—why don’t you go meet the girls in the last room. Those are the other Orphans.”

Connie’s head jerked back. “Orphans?”

Edie explained how most of the skaters at Avery Hall came for a summer, or a few weeks. Just to get a taste of the training, and, of course, to work on new jumps. “The rest of The Palace skaters are locals,” she said. “Or transplants—they usually come with their mothers and live in the gray condos on the road to the school.”

Connie scrunched her face and shook her head, like she was confused. Or now suddenly worried because she hadn’t looked into any of this and now her daughter was considered an Orphan.

Edie patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. There are a lot of mothers here. And Dawn, of course. She’ll be just fine.”

Yes. I will.This was Ana’s dream, and staying here was the only way she could reach it.

She left the two women and stepped into the hallway, in search of the girls, the other Orphans. Two had stopped by the window at the end, one leaning against the ledge, the tall skinny one with broad shoulders and long legs. She had an enormous mischievous smile that spread clear across her face, framed by a pile of auburn curls. The other one, small by comparison, had hair so black ithadto be dyed, short and blunt, and her eyes were caked with thick eyeliner. Her demeanor would have made Ana steer clear on her way to her locker at school. She lifted herself onto the ledge and sat down.

“Who are you?” the tall one asked.

Ana opened her mouth only to stumble on the words. Two simple words.

“I’m Ana.”

“Cool,” the girl said. “I’m Jolene.” Then she nodded toward the other girl.

“This is Kayla,” she said. “She would have told you herself, but she doesn’t say much, and she can also be extremely rude.”

But then Kayla did speak. “Fuck off, Jo,” she said, like none of this was remotely interesting. Like she was bored even by her own thoughts about it.

Jolene laughed, nudging her with her shoulder. Then she turned back to Ana.

“There’s one more of us.” Jolene pointed inside the room next to them.

Through that door, Ana saw a petite, fair-haired girl with a long braid, sitting on a paisley comforter and talking on her phone.

“That’s Indy,” Jolene said.

And then, louder, “Indy! She’s here! The new girl.”

That name—Indy. There could only be one.

Indy Cunningham had just gotten fifth at Nationals at age fourteen. She’d had eight triples in her free skate. Each one in combination. It was unreal, and now she was here, training on the same ice as Ana.

Indy looked up and waved, then turned her back to the open door. Her eyes were red, her face wet with tears, and Jolene was quick to explain.

“She’s talking to her old coach. She’s homesick. You’re not gonna be homesick, are you?”

Ana shook her head. “No. No way,” she said emphatically.

“Indy’s here to get the triple Axel,” Kayla said, as if that somehow mitigated the awesomeness of it.

Jolene echoed her thoughts. “She needs it to beat the Russians. And Mio.”