Page 75 of Blade

“Did you see what I did that time?” she asked.

Indy’s eyes lit up. “You swept itup, not around.”

Mio nodded. “Yes!”

And from there she gave them both a lesson about physics and propulsion, and how Indy needed that right arm, the one on the outside, to drive straight up past her hip and her chest right up to the sky.

Indy was sweeping that arm from right to left—the direction of the rotation but not the height.

“Punch it,” she said. “Punch the sky,” because that would bring more height, and it was the height she needed more than a faster rotation in the air.

They used Mio’s phone to film Indy as she practiced the double Axel, focusing on that one arm, punching the sky, not sweeping to the side, until she made the correction. Only then was it time to try the triple.

Which she did, and not just once or twice but three times because her right arm was stubborn. She skated back to Mio and Ana, tears in her eyes, rubbing her hip.

“I can’t stop it,” she cried. “It keeps swinging around.”

Mio took off her mittens, which were padded with down.

“You do have fear,” she said. “Your brain is hijacking the instruction because it doesn’t understand. It doesn’t believe you must get higher to stop falling.”

It was just like Dawn said, Ana thought. Just like Dr. Fear. But then Mio seemed to read her mind.

“It’s not a fight,” Mio said. “You don’t fight the fear. It’s so stupid, these things Dawn says. And that old man.”

Then Mio took the mittens and slipped them inside Indy’s leggings, right on top of the bruise, like a crash pad.

“You have to be kind to the fear. Thank it for protecting you. You have to show it that you’ve heeded its warning and have made adjustments to keep yourself safe.”

Indy looked confused. “Will these really help?”

Ana waited for Mio to tell her the truth—a pair of mittens would do little good against the weight of Indy’s body crashing down on the ice.

But instead, she made a fist and tapped it against the mittens and Indy’s hip.

“See?” she said. “Of course it will help.”

Then she held Indy’s face in her hands and pulled it down so they were eye to eye.

“Your arm is like a broken wing that stops you from flying. And you have to fly.”

“Okay,” Indy said. And Ana watched, desperate for Indy to fix her arm, her broken wing, but also terrified that Indy would crash again and the mittens would do little to help and Mio would be out of tricks.

“Go,” Mio said. “Go and fly.”

Indy skated away, slower this time, until she reached the edge of the ice. She circled the rink, but didn’t cut into the center to set up thejump, and Ana thought maybe she was going to give up, to skate to the doors and then walk to the locker room, take off her skates and never put them on again.

The thought felt like a rebellion, like freedom, until Indy passed the doors and went around another time, her eyes focused on the ice, her expression changing with each shift of the blades, right, left, right, left. Then she picked up speed, cut into the center.

A three turn. Backward, on the right outside edge. Hips square before she stepped forward. Left outside edge, both arms back. Free leg beneath them. Ana heard Mio pull in a gasp as Indy’s arms began to move, the left arm sweeping up and the right arm—there it was—her right arm punching a hole right through the sky.

One, two, three and a half rotations, then the right toe pick sticking the ice just as her arms opened and her left leg unraveled and pulled her down from the pick and onto the blade—a split-second transition.

Like a miracle—a landing.

Chapter Thirty

Ana