Page 3 of Fake Skating

I turned around when I heard the voice, and it took me a minute to recognize the tall dude in the blazer when I saw him smiling at me, breath puffing out in clouds in front of his face. He was bigger and had a facial-hair thing going on now, but, holy crap—it was him.

“Benji?”

Benji had always lived next door to my grandparents. Well, actually, his dad lived next door to my grandparents, and Benji just spent random weekends there. His mother, who he lived with the majority of the time, was loaded and lived in a lakeshore mansion.

In an exclusive gated community.

Alec had always called him King Douche—long before we were old enough to even use the word “douche”—because he went to a fancy all-boys private school and acted like he was better than everyone else.

You got a bike for your birthday? That’s hilarious. I got a racehorse named Titus.

“I go by Ben now,” he said with a funny smile. “And can I help you with that? Please?”

He gestured toward the saggy box I was holding, the box that appeared to be moments away from losing its bottom.

“Thank you,” I said as he reached for it, remembering the last time I saw him.

God, I’d completely forgotten about that day.

It was a couple of years ago, and we’d flown in so my mom could see Alec’s dad in the hospital after his car accident. We’d been days away from the move to Germany, so we literally only had a few hours to spend in the Twin Cities, and Benji had been on our flight from Minot.

I’d been horrified when he switched seats with a middle-aged guy so he could sit beside me, but after a few minutes we connected like the old friends we weren’t. Which was a total shock because Benji had always been such a tool to me and Alec when we were little.

But I was so lonely at the time that the mere fact he was kind to me was…

well, nice , even if he was still a douchey rich kid (the guy showed me no less than fifty pictures of himself on his phone, doing things like riding a horse on the beach while shirtless in Bali).

And Alec had disappeared from my life by then, which was why I opted not to join my mom at the hospital when we visited, because I was worried Alec didn’t want me there—for reasons I still wasn’t sure about.

Benji was kind and warm and comforting. It was surprisingly wonderful.

I glanced over Benji’s shoulder and noticed the car that appeared to be idling at the end of my grandpa’s driveway.

“Wow, is that your car?”

I wasn’t into cars, but my dad was, so I definitely knew that was a Maserati Grecale.

Of course Benji had a hundred-thousand-dollar SUV.

“It is,” he said with a smile so proud, you’d think he built the vehicle. “Want to go for a spin around the block? Warm yourself up on my heated seats?”

Gross. “Sorry, but I have this whole thing going on.”

And I pointed to the box he was holding.

“Oh yeah,” he said with a disappointed smile. “This goes inside?”

“Yep.”

“Excellent.” He nodded and started walking toward the house. “What is the story with the boxes, by the way?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, grabbing a floor lamp as I followed him. “We’re kind of moving here.”

“What? Are you serious?” He said it like he couldn’t believe it, but in a good way. Like he was happy to hear the news. “You’re moving to Southview?”

“We are,” I said, reaching for the front-door handle and pushing it open for him. “My mom and I are moving in with my grandpa.”

“No way,” he said, walking into the house.

“Oh yes,” I said, my stomach sinking because I just hated moving so much. I knew from experience that I was about to hate the next couple of months of my life, and after that it was TBD. Might get better, might get way worse. “Apparently, this is home now.”

“Well, that is fantastic news,” Benji said, smiling with his whole face. “Staying with Dad just got a lot more interesting.”

I didn’t really know what he meant by that, and to be honest, I didn’t really care. When moving to a new place, I welcomed anyone who could be moved into the “ally” category, whether they were a harmless rich douchebag or not.

Too bad he went to a fancy academy, or I might’ve actually known someone at my school already.

“Thanks, and we’ll stay off your lawn, I promise,” I teased.

“Trust me, the last thing I’m worried about is my dad’s little yard,” he replied, his tone rich with condescension.

He’d always seemed to be embarrassed that his dad was a regular middle-class guy, which kind of made me wonder how his parents ever ended up together—even for the short term—in the first place.

“It was great seeing you,” he said, setting down the box. I’d been kind of hoping Benji might help a girl out with the moving in, but that went up in flames as I watched him unironically pop the collar on his jacket. “Welcome home.”

Ughhh, how is this home?

I just smiled and nodded too, because I didn’t really know what to say to this version of Benji—ahem, I mean Ben.

Please don’t linger.

How can your teeth be so white?

Is Titus still alive?

“Do you want my number?” he asked me, and I must’ve made a confused face because he quickly added, “In case you guys need anything, being new in town and all that.”

“Oh,” I said awkwardly. “Um—”

“That would be great.” My mom suddenly appeared from nowhere, shooting me a be nice look. “Wouldn’t it be great, Dani?”

“Yes,” I agreed, forcing a perky grin while pulling out my phone. “That would be great.”

He put his number in my contacts— Ben Worthington— and then he was out of there, saying he had to get to practice.

I could almost hear Alec making a joke about what kind of loser activity little Benji would be practicing— crumpet dipping?

speed neckerchief tying?— because the guy seemed way too fancy for any sport where one might be required to sweat.

“Benji boy got cute,” my mom said with a smirk. “And still looks just as smitten around you as he always did.”

“It’s Ben now, Mother, and I thought we agreed ‘smitten’ was a terrible word,” I corrected, not sure why Ben was funny, but it was.

It kind of made me want to call him Benji forever.

“We did—my apologies,” she said with a smirk, her gaze on the front window. “Dear God, is that a Maserati?”

“Yup.”

Just as she said that, someone laid on their horn outside. I turned around in time to see a big black truck pull up behind the fancy car, and whoever was inside impatiently hit their horn—over and over—until Ben finally pulled away.

It made me laugh, imagining Benji’s distaste for the slush-covered F-250, until I saw the truck whip into our driveway behind the moving truck.

Then I saw him get out.

The man somehow looked taller—and tougher—than I remembered, and I swear to God he was cursing as he slammed his truck door and gestured toward Benji’s house.

Grandpa Mick.

“Looks like Daddy’s home,” my mom said, but she was smiling like his behavior was amusing.

I knew my mom had had a lot of phone calls with him since my parents separated and we ditched Germany, so it was possible that my grandpa had earned my mom’s tolerance for his grumpiness.

But he hadn’t earned mine.

Because what kind of grandfather just stopped talking to his grandchild?

I braced myself for his entrance, dreading the reunion because there was no way it wasn’t going to be weird. He was probably going to make some big apology, and I was probably going to have to lie and say oh, it’s fine and hug him and pretend that it was all water under the bridge.

I hope he doesn’t cry.

The door flew open, almost as if he kicked it in, and suddenly there he was, looking more like a character from an action movie than somebody’s granddad.

“I can’t believe that little shit was blocking my driveway—why was Worthington here?”

He pulled off his Ray-Bans, and in spite of the rant about his neighbor, I felt something warm in my chest when I saw his eyes. Probably because his eyes looked exactly the same as they had when he’d been my favorite human.

Even though he was a colossal jerk, some part of me wanted to hug him. Desperately.

“He helped Dani carry a box,” my mom said as she crossed the room to hug him. “Benji was being nice.”

“Sure he was,” he muttered, sounding like a grump but wrapping her up in a big hug and kissing the top of her head. “How was the drive?”

“Good. Cold,” she said, and when she pulled back, I couldn’t ignore the expression on my mother’s face. She looked relaxed for the first time in… wow, maybe ever as she grinned at her father and added, “Dani’s officially an ice cube now.”

“Eh. It’s not too bad out there today,” he said with a shrug, looking over at me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just made a weird noise, like a harrumph, because Grandpa Mick’s gaze was locked in on me and it was… unnerving .

He stared at me like he was searching for something, like he was trying to find an object that’d been hidden on my person or something. I bit down on my lip and fidgeted under his hawklike watch, but then I realized he was probably just searching for the right words to apologize with.

I mean, how does one intro an apology for years of absence? Listen, kid, I’m a dick could work, or perhaps let’s talk about the jackass elephant in the room.

I crossed my arms, and my breath felt a little bit stuck in my chest as the silence hovered, but then he finally opened his mouth.

And said, “You got tall.”

You got tall.

What?

“You got tall”?

That is all you have to say to me?

I cleared my throat and tucked my hair behind my ears. “I’m five-seven.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding like I’d confirmed something. “Pretty tall for a girl.”

What is happening?

He kept looking at me, and nodding, and I wanted to die from the embarrassment of this reunion. The man who’d let me steer his boat when I was four because I was his “Danigirl” could only muster up enough politeness to hit me with the small-talk gold of tall for a girl .

Such a poignant moment.

Such a glowing apology.

“I’m going to go get more boxes,” I said, pointing toward the door, and then I quickly left the room before he had a chance to offer a follow-up inquiry about my shoe size or perhaps question whether I liked pickles on my hamburgers.

“We’re right behind you,” my mom sort of yelled, but I didn’t care.

I was suddenly all in on the box moving, because it gave me a reason to avoid my life for a couple more hours.

And it worked.

When the U-Haul was finally empty, I was about to go inside and close myself into the bedroom that was now officially mine when my mom said, “You guys ready to go get some dinner?”

I wanted to remain distant and unapproachable, really, I did, but the truth was that I was famished. And frozen. And exhausted.

A hot meal sounded heavenly.

“I’ll drive.” Grandpa Mick pulled out his key ring and hit the start button on his truck. “They still live on Fairacre, right?”

Wait.

“Yep,” my mom said. “I’ll go grab my purse and lock the door if you guys want to get in the truck.”

Wait, wait, wait. Fairacre Road.

What??

“Where are we going?” I asked calmly, even though I already knew the answer and my stomach had suddenly dropped to my feet.

“We’re going to the Barczewskis’,” my mom said as if it was a given. “Sarah cooked us dinner.”

“ What? You didn’t tell me that,” I said, my voice a little louder than I’d intended.

“I’m pretty sure I did, but do you have a problem with that?” She gave me a weird look, and I could feel Grandpa Mick’s eyes on me. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“I mean, I am ,” I lied, trying to be cool because I didn’t want my mom to question why I wouldn’t want to see Alec. As far as she knew, we’d happily said goodbye five years ago and that was it.

Which was true, but she didn’t know about the postcards we’d secretly exchanged since elementary school, postcards that had just stopped coming one day.

That was what filled me with dread.

The sheer awkwardness of the ghosting.

“But we just drove in a moving truck all day and unloaded our stuff,” I said, hoping for the thousandth time that Alec wouldn’t even remember the silly postcard thing.

The silly postcard thing that hadn’t been silly to me at all.

But whatever.

“I don’t exactly feel fresh and ready to see people—I’m kind of a mess after all the moving.” I knew it was stupid to care, but I really didn’t want the first time I saw Alec after all this timeto be when I looked like this— in sweats and a messy bun.

“I mean, if you wanna hang back,” Grandpa Mick said slowly, “I can stay too, and we can grab a pizza or something.”

At the exact same time, my mom and I both whipped our heads around to look at my grandpa because… well, that was absolutely unexpected. Was he trying to spend time with me? I didn’t know how I felt about that.

“No,” my mom snapped, pointing at him. “You are antisocial and eat microwave food for every meal. Sarah invited you over and has cooked food for us, so we are going, end of story.”

“God, I forgot how bossy you can be,” my grandpa said, but something in the way he looked at my mom made me think he appreciated it.

“I wonder who I get that from,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to get my purse and we’re leaving. Get your butts in the truck.”

She turned and ran for the house, leaving me standing there with Grandpa Mick in the driveway. He didn’t even look at me as he opened his door and said, “It’s probably warm already.”

“Oh. Cool,” I said, opening the back door and climbing inside, trying to remain calm when I was about to see Alec.

In mere moments, dear God.

How can this be happening?