Page 80 of Blade

Marta Lyons: Yes. That was the name I remember. Finch.

Ada Olson: Did you ever tell your sister things about your patients at the clinic?

Marta Lyons: Only in general. I never used names.

Ada Olson: But descriptions, perhaps? Like telling her if they were skaters?

Marta Lyons: Yes, perhaps.

Ada Olson: Skaters like Kayla Johnson, who’d come in for emergency contraception and STD testing after an assault?

Marta Lyons: She didn’t say it was an assault.

Ada Olson: And Jolene Montgomery, who sought medical care to terminate her pregnancy?

Marta Lyons: I was concerned about them. They were living away from home, and these things were happening to them. They were making decisions without any parental guidance.

Ada Olson: And your response to that concern was to tell your sister? Who was friends with Mrs. Finch?

Marta Lyons: I thought maybe someone would step in and take care of them, if they knew what was happening. It wasn’t right—those girls on their own ... I never said their names ... I was within my ethical boundaries ... I didn’t know about Jolene’s father ...

Ada Olson: Thank you, Ms. Lyons. That’s more than enough.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ana

Before—One Year and Ten Months at The Palace

Ana glanced across bowls of pasta and bread laid out on the Cunninghams’ dining room table. Patrice was at one end. Indy’s father, Paul, at the other. Next to Ana was Indy’s little sister, Sally. None of them were talking. Not one word. Just forks and knives scraping plates, chewing, swallowing, shifting in seats.

Indy gave her a quick wink before looking into her plate of food. She wasn’t really eating, Ana noticed. Just twirling strings of spaghetti round and round with her fork.

Earlier that day, Ana had skated her free skate at the Midwestern Sectionals, held in Minneapolis that year, at the rink where Indy had trained before coming to The Palace. The same rink where Bobby Stark coached. Ana had been invited to stay at Indy’s house, with the Cunninghams, so she didn’t have to be alone at the hotel.

She’d landed two triple-triple combinations, earning a silver medal in the junior division—which meant she was going to Nationals for the first time. Dawn had pulled her into the puffer coat so hard shethought she might actually break some bones, causing a euphoric swell of emotion, tears of relief that felt distinct from the joy of her success. She could feel the need for Dawn, right alongside the hatred for herself for having it.

But that was only part of the ache she now felt at the Cunninghams’ table in mid-November of her second year at The Palace.

It was also about Indy—who was in first place after the short program. The free skate was tomorrow, and Indy could now land the triple Axel! Mio had fixed it, showing Indy how to punch the sky with her right arm. She’d landed three more before they went home that night. And the next day, Indy landed it again for everyone to see on the seven a.m. session—including Dawn, who was giving a lesson to Ivan.

Mio had made Indy promise not to tell Dawn how this miracle had happened. “She won’t like it,” Mio said. “She’ll find a way to punish you.” Indy had protested the whole way home, and again as they brushed their teeth.

“Please!” Ana begged her. For once, she said, they needed to do what Mio told them. Indy said she wanted to “shove this down Dawn’s scrawny old throat and watch her choke on it.”

But in the morning, Indy kept her promise. She landed the triple Axel like it was nothing. Emile let out a holler and skated over to her. He was joined by a handful of skaters pretending to celebrate her accomplishment, but Ana had felt their stomachs sink. Like someone had just pulled the plug from a drain, and now they were all going down it. The ones at Indy’s level would never stand a chance against her now. The ones below knew what Ana did—the bar had just been raised.

Ana stood at the boards, watching the bleacher bees shrivel, finding glee in their misery. She didn’t care what it said about her.

Her eyes turned to Dawn, standing at the far end by the entrance to the lockers, beside Ivan. She pretended not to see any of it—the triple Axel, the celebration. But when the session was over, she remained by the boards where everyone had to exit the ice. Ana skated over to Indy and was there when Dawn stopped her.

“You see?” she said. “I told you it would come.”

Ana shot Indy a look, another plea for her to keep their secret. Indy complied, pursing her lips into a tiny, rigid smile. And as she skated away, Dawn raised the hand holding her guards, and swung them down. Right across Indy’s right hip. Into the bruise.

Anyone else seeing this might have thought it was an affectionate gesture, like a pat on the shoulder. When Indy looked back at her, shocked by the sudden pain, Dawn winked and said, “I knew I’d get you there!”

Indy held herself together until they reached the locker room. But then she raced into a bathroom stall with her bottle of DMSO and rubbed it into her hip. She didn’t cry, though Ana knew she wanted to. Maybe needed to.