Page 13

chapter thirteen

my happiness was a freight train, and i was tied to the tracks

S kipping class felt like a tiny act of rebellion.

I was proud of myself, for now. But I knew I’d feel badabout it later—I always did.

Three weeks back at Liberty, back in stuffy classes and no effort had been put intothem at all. Instead, I was forcing sleep to hang back while I speed-read the required reading the night before my 9AMs, while praying they’d get cancelled or that the subway would break down so I had a better excuse as to why I didn't have to go.

Pushing them to the back of my mind, giving upon them like that… it felt wrong in every way it could. Almost like I was losing another piece of Dad. Or better yet, like I was personally throwing it away, even when I had so little of him left to hold onto.

But this was never your path, Aurora. You knowthat.

The guilty truth nestled deep in my chest.

No matter how badly I tried to ignore it, it pulsed beneath my ribs, a quiet but persistent weight. The guilt of choosi ng myself—of finally putting my needs before anyone else’s—wrapped around me like chain mail. It didn’t just weigh me down; it wore me down, piece by piece, until I wondered if I would ever feel light again.

But do you feel guilty enough to turn back now?To skip the rink and bail on Aspen?

Before I could overthink myself into oblivion, Ifumbled for my phone and dialled, my fingers moving faster than my doubts. Talking about it would help. Probably. Hopefully. If nothing else, at least I wouldn’t be alone with my brain for much longer.

All three of them answered in a heartbeat.

“I can’t do it.”

The crackling from my phone’s speaker eruptedin the rink’s quiet parking lot. Cora tilted her head in one of the four boxes on my screen, her foundation brush poised mid-swipe. The other two squares showed Goldie, munching on what looked like last night’s pizza, and Daisy, barely visible under the fluorescent lights of a subway car.

“You’ll smash it, what are you talking about?”Cora said confidently, turning back to her vanity mirror as if this was all so obvious.

After Finn left the attic the girls weren't far behind, climbing up the stairs one by one to check that I was okay. And after holding them in for long enough I cracked, and let out an embarrasing amount of tears. Eventually, I talked, confessed about what I'd found and how maybe I'd stumbled acoss the answer I didn't know I was looking for, and all three of them held me tighter and cheered me on.

Just another reason why I was so happy our paths had crossed.

Cora cleared her throat. “Okay, so you’ve not skated in a while. But, isn’t it the same as the bike thing?”

“The bike thing?” Goldie repeated.

Cora waved her brush dramatically.“You know, the saying? When you learn to ride a bike, you never forget.”

“Right,” I sighed, leaning up against the railing ofthe rink’s steps, “but I’ve never done a triple lutz while riding a bike, Cor. The odds of me forgetting how to nail a landing are way higher than forgetting how to pedal.”

The screech of the subway car nearly drownedout Daisy’s sweet voice. “Isn’t muscle memory a thing? I mean, once you’re back out there, it’ll all come flooding back. Right?” Her head tilted. "And it's your first time out there, Ror. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Her words struck a chord, pulling up the memoryof the other day with Finn. She wasn’t entirely wrong—the basics had come back to me. The crossovers, the turns, the rhythm of the ice under my blades. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt familiar, like a whisper.

And then it hit me.

My breath caught, and my thoughts tripped overthemselves as I remembered.

The girls didn’t know. They didn’t know I’d already been back on the ice—orthat Finn had been there, too.

The memory of that night surged forward. Thehockey game, the way Finn had looked at me like he already knew I’d say yes, the quiet, almost vulnerable way he’d proposed the idea of helping me. I hadn’t told them, not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. Not then. By the time I’d wrapped my head around it, too much had happened, and the words had slipped away.

“Oh, um…” My voice faltered as I stepped backfrom the rink door. “Yeah. So. About the whole ‘first time back on the ice’ thing…“ I trailed off, swallowing hard. “That may have already happened.”

For a second, I thought the call had dropped. But when another screech came from Daisy’s end and her phone shook a little, I realised that the connection was fine, and it was what I’d said that had turned them into statutes.

It was Cora who broke the silence. It always was.“I'm sorry, what?”

I cleared my throat again, tapping my temple. “Oh. Yeah. Another thing. Um… I was with Finn too, when I skated again.”

Another screech from Daisy’s end was like awarning siren for the chaos that followed.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Finn?” Goldie’s eyeswidened, pizza forgotten mid-bite.

“Sorry, what!” Cora blinked rapidly, her brushfrozen.

“As in my brother?” I don’t think I’d ever seenDaisy look so confused.

“Is the world ending?”

“What the hell is going on?”

“There’s no way!”

I narrowed my eyes, giving them all a flat stare. “Are you done?”

Silence fell again, but it didn’t last long. Cora,predictably, was the first to crack. “What are you talking about? How is this… what is… why—”

“Do you guys remember when I came back fromcheering at the Lions game and went straight to my room?”

All three of them nodded.

“Well…” I exhaled, bracing myself. “Finn and Igot talking. He bumped into me during the game and asked why I was cheering at a hockey match when I’d spent the last year avoiding the rink altogether. And after finding my skates with me in the attic, I couldn't just ignore him.”

Their jaws practically hit the floor, but Iploughed ahead before they could derail me. “Right before he found me, though, I ran into Ryan—the—”

“Asshole who dumped you,” Daisy said, her tonedripping with disdain.

“Right. He came up to me, said some crap, and… well, it got in my head. I started spiralling about how I’d have to come back here and deal with him—and Finn, too. And then everywhere I turned felt like a dead end.”

I hesitated for a moment, my mind replayingFinn’s voice, his grin, the surprising warmth in his words that night. My smile softened without me realising it. “Andthen Finn said he’d teach me to skate again if I helped him with French so he didn’t get kicked off the team.”

Daisy’s face scrunched up, like she couldn’tdecide if she was horrified or impressed. “Wait. Finn offered to help you ?”

“Well that’s… sweet,” Goldie sighed, her tone stillincredulous. “But still, my brain can’t process this.”

“And you said yes?” Cora asked, blinking like I’djust admitted to joining a cult.

“Well, yeah,” I said, shrugging like it was obvious.“It was a good deal, okay? Besides, I need the money, and that cheerleading uniform was way too small for my boobs.”

That earned me a giggle from each of them.

“But honestly,” I continued, “after… everything,I think being happy again is only part of it. I want peace too. And if getting over what happened with Finn helps with that, if it’s one less thing for me to worry about then… I’m all for it.”

Daisy smiled warmly, the kind that made you feellike you were doing something right. “Well, I for one am happy to hear that. I’m proud of you, Ror.”

“Me too,” Goldie chimed in.

Cora, of course, narrowed her eyes at mesuspiciously. “I’m proud too, okay. But I also want to hear exactly what happened when you skated for the first time. And you’re gonna need to explain this whole deal with Finn because… what?”

Goldie raised her hand like she was in class.“Actually, me too. I wanna hear the story.”

I g iggled, feeling a little lighter with theirsupport. “Okay, okay, I promise.” I glanced back at the door looming in front of me. “But I still don’t think I can do this.”

“Course you can. You’re Rory Greene, for Christ’ssake. You can do anything,” Cora reminded me, her tone laced with that genuine twang we rarely heard her use with anyone but us.

“She’s right,” Daisy said. “And if you did it withFinn, how hard can it be now?”

Before I could answer, Cora snickered. “Ooooh, did it with Finn? Don’t give her any ideas—”

“Bye, Cora.” I reached for the screen to removeher from the call, but her voice stopped me mid-swipe.

“No, wait, I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself.” Shepouted dramatically. “I’m just happy for you.”

Cora Holland was a mystery sometimes. She wasa ball of yarn you could never stop untangling because the string was never-ending. But just to look at her, you’d think you’d know everything. Her onyx hair,vampy persona and cat eyes left little room for the world to label her as anything but a bitch.But they were wrong. She was anything but.

And don't tell her this, but sometimes I was glad the world thought ofher as such. All that meant was that we could keep her for ourselves, and love her the way she deserved.

We wrapped up the call soon after, my thoughtshalting as a woman emerged from the rink door, passing me a small smile whilst holding it open for me.Thankfully my fear of being impolite was whatgot me through the door, grabbing the cold handle without a second thought.

I p ulled off my earmuffs and smoothed down mycurtain bangs with more care than they needed, as the cold air froze the blush my overthinking had painted on my cheeks.

On the centre of the ice was Aspen, althoughthis time she was collecting cones that had been placed in a jagged line. My heart juddered a little when I saw her, but I managed to ignore whatever pull was trying to drag me back out of the door.

She spotted me as she straightened, a stack ofcones balanced in her hands. “Rory! You made it!” she called, her voice bright as she waved me in. “Let me clear all this up, and I’ll be right with you. Get your skates on!”

I nodded quickly, setting my bag down on one ofthe benches. My hands trembled as I pulled out my skates, staring at them for a moment.

I’ve already done this. I skated with Finn, forheaven’s sake. Why am I so nervous?

I shook the thought away and busied myselfunlacing the skates. Sliding my feet in, I tugged the laces tight, then stood.

And wobbled.

When I glanced up, Aspen was already on the ice.The cones had disappeared, replaced by her clipboard. She moved effortlessly, her posture sharp, her presence commanding in a way that was comforting rather than intimidating.

She caught my eye and smiled, skating over.“How are you feeling? Do you think you’re ready?”

I took a shaky breath and nodded. “I think so…but part of me just wants to stand here forever.” Before she could say an ything, the words spilled out. “I have to tell you though, the other day, I skated. For the first time in… well, forever.”

Her hazel eyes lit up. “Oh wow . That’s amazing.”she skated closer, her light skin shimmering under the lights. “How come?”

I shrugged. “Oh, you know. I’m tutoring thisboy—Finn—because he’s failing French, and he offered to help me skate in return.” My fingers started to tug at the ends of my curls. “Which is funny because now I have private lessons with you, so it was kind of pointless. But not pointless as in I don’t want to be here , I do. I think I do.” The thoughts in my head were pilling up, and for some reason, my mouth didn’t think before setting them free. “Anyway, I used to hate him. I mean, I think I hated him. But now I’m not sure. We might’ve had a moment yesterday when I was tutoring him, or maybe I just imagined it because I really wanted him to like me. And that’s probably why I hated him in the first place, but…”

I froze, my voice still ringing in my ears like anemergency siren. Oh god.

Did the ghost of a tragic oversharer just possess me?

I replayed the word vomit in my head, wincing atevery unnecessary detail that had no right to be publically shared. Maybe my brain had too many thoughts and just rage-quit containment. That seemed to be the general theme of today, anyway.

“I see,” she said slowly, her eyes firm, but hermouth very close to breaking into that smile I could see she was fighting to keep. “And, um… how did you feel after skating with the boy you ’re tutoring, who you also have a massive crush on but apparently hated?” Her face screws up. “Hate, or hated?” And then her face settles. “Sorry, I got lost half way through, to be honest.”

I forced a smile, bouncing my head like it wasn’ta big deal. “Better. Good, I think.” Breathe, before you start babbling again . “I still remember crossovers, but my turns probably need polishing. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as good as I used to be.”

“But you want to be. And that right there is proof that a part of you wants to find that skater again.”

I nodded, her words sinking in. “I know.”

She clapped her gloved hands, the sound echoingthrough the rink. “Well then, get your butt on this ice and show me what we’re working with!”

Before my nerves could take over, I rememberedwhat she’d said—what I knew deep down. I wanted this.

I took another deep breath, the cool air biting at my cheeks as I opened the gate that led me out onto the ice.

For a moment, I wondered if I’d ever be able tofind her again–the girl who glided across the ice like she was untouchable. Like nothing else in the world mattered. Up until now, I believed she was a figment of my imagination, a past life I had no tether to anymore. But when I looked back out across the ice, I swore I could feel it. Feel something. Like tiny hands wrapped around my fingers, guiding me so I wouldn’t lose my way.

I held onto the feeling as I dropped one skateonto the ice.My palms felt clammy, but I clenched them intofists, steady ing myself. My other foot followed. For a moment, I wobbled, my arms instinctively stretching out for balance.

“You’re doing fine,” Aspen said, her tone calm butwatchful. “Just feel it out. Breathe. There are no expectations right now. Just you and the ice.”

I let her voice guide me, taking a tentative glideforward. Then another. The rhythm started to come back to me—the push, the shift of weight, the subtle sway of my hips. It wasn’t perfect, but it was… something.

I looked up and caught Aspen’s eye. Her smilewidened.

As I made it to the middle and began a lap,Aspen skated beside me, her sharp eyes catching every detail as I warmed up with some basic drills. My crossovers felt fluid after the first few sets, and my edges were more secure. I tried to not overthink each movement, and for the most part, the extra headspace allowed me to breathe.

“Nice,” Aspen said after a few laps, nodding inapproval. “You’ve still got it.”

“Yeah?” My brow quirked.

“Oh yeah.” She nodded. “Let yourself get morecomfortable, and if you’re feeling up to it, try and improvise a little. But only if you feel confident enough. There’s no pressure here, remember.”

My stomach flipped. Improvising was not mystrong suit—it never had been. Even as a kid, I’d clung to choreographed routines like a safety net. But something about Aspen’s confidence, her unbridled support, made me want to try.

I s kated to a stop and looked over at her. “Can Ihave some music?” My lips slid up into a grin as her brows shot up. “It might help. You know, jog some old choreography. Inspire me.”

Aspen skated to the edge, already pulling out herphone. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” I said softly, focusing on myskates.

Seconds later, the opening lyrics of Foolish One spilt through the rink’s speakers.

I whipped my head up, an incredulous look on myface. “Really?”

Aspen shrugged, spinning lazily in a circle with asmirk. “Channel all that frustration. You’ve got pleanty, if I recall you’re rambling from before?”

She wasn’t wrong. The song hit too close tohome, stirring the ache I’d buried beneath layers of indifference. Finn. The hope I hated having. The stupid, barely-there moments where I thought he might see me the way I saw him.

The fire in my chest roared to life, feeding on those feelings, and before I knew it, I was moving.

I took a lap around the rink, letting the musicguide. On the chorus, I surrendered to instinct, throwing myself into a single lutz. My landing was shaky, but I didn’t care. The adrenaline coursed through me, breaking down walls I’d forgotten I’d built so high.A spiral here, a loop there—each move flowedfrom something nostalgic. Memories surfaced with each glide and spin, filling my chest with warmth.

The rink became my world. The music paintedemotions I couldn’t put into words, and the ice carried me effortlessly through them. For the first time in years, I wasn’t chasing perfection or approval. I wasn’t trying to save a dream that was never mine.

I was chasing the happiness I thought I’d lost.

The final notes faded into silence, leaving mebreathless. My chest rose and fell, exhilaration coursing through me. Aspen stood frozen near the edge, her clipboard hanging limply at her side. She hadn’t spoken a word.

“Uh…” I tugged at the sleeve of my top, nervousenergy creeping in as my breaths slowed. “Was that okay?”

Aspen blinked as though waking from a dream.“Okay?” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh and skated toward me. “That was… you haven’t skated since your Mom?”

I shook my head, my chest still heaving.

Her mouth parted as she blew out a breath, herfree hand raking through those auburn strands, an emotion I didn’t know what to call screwing up her face. But before I could venture a guess, she set he eyes back on me. “This is gonna sound bonkers but… Rory with time and effort, we could get you competing again.”

My breath caught.

Competing? The word hit melike a gust of cold air.

“Competing?” I echoed, my voice barely above awhisper.

“I remember you being good,” she said, her toneserious now. “But I’ve never seen this much potential in someone before.” She let a laugh slip, like she still couldn’t believe I was even h ere, let alone skating. “If you haven’t skated properly for what? Almost ten years? And that is what you bring to the table with improv. Imagine what you’d be like with practice!” She nodded. “You should train with me.”

“Train?” My voice sounded small, the idea so bigit was almost suffocating.

She skated closer, her cheeks almost the sameshade as her hair. “Listen, I’ve been running novice classes since the start of summer. You could join. There’s a recital two weeks on saturday, and trust me, you’ll pick up the choreography easily if we polish what’s just come back to you. And we could get you graded. You could be ready for this—”

“Wait. Just… wait.” My voice wavered, my heartpounding in my throat as I skated back. “I don’t know if I can—if I’m—” I trailed off, staring at the ice beneath my skates. The reflection of the rink lights blurred as my vision swam. “I haven’t done this in years. Competing? Training? That’s not my life anymore. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Aspen was quiet for a moment, her skates slicinggentle lines into the ice as she drifted a little closer. “Rory,” she sighed, her voice softer now. “I know it feels big. Too big. But I need you to hear me on this—you already started. The moment you laced up your skates, the moment you stepped back onto this ice, you started. You belong here.”

My throat tightened as her words wrappedaround me. “I don’t know if I can be that person again.”

“You don’t have to be her again,” Her voice was so steady. “You just have to be you, right now. The Rory who poured herself into the ic e just now. The Rory who skated like the world disappeared and nothing mattered but the music and her own damn self.” Her eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw not just a coach, but someone who genuinely believed in me. “That’s enough. More than enough.”

I bit my lip, the knot in my chest tightening.“What if I fail?”

“What if you don’t?” she countered, a hint of asmile tugging at the corner of her lips. “What if you find something you didn’t even know you were looking for?”

The tears came then, unbidden and hot againstmy cheeks. I wiped at them furiously, but Aspen just stood there, waiting. Letting me feel it all without judgment.

Finally, I looked up at her, my voice breaking. “You really think I can do this? Don’t you.”

Aspen nodded, stepping closer and gripping myshoulders gently. “I do. And I’ll be there, every step of the way. And if you give it your best and you’re still not happy then—”

“You’ll still charge me?” I sniffed, a tiny laughfalling from my mouth as I looked at Aspen.

Her head dipped forward as her smile grew.“Then I’ll still be here. For anything you need.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throatstubbornly refusing to ease. But her words settled deep, cracking open something I hadn’t dared touch in years.

“Can I have some time?” I whispered, my voicetrembling but resolute.

Her smile was delicate, but equally strong. “Ofcourse.” She squeezed my shoulder and skated off, givingme space.

Idl y spinning at the centre of the rink, I let theworld blur around me, lost in the quiet war waging inside my head. I knew why I was here—why I kept coming back. But knowing didn’t make deciding any easier.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe I washolding onto the guilt, clutching it like a lifeline because letting go meant admitting that Dad was really gone. That his dreams weren’t enough to carry me forward anymore.

But they had to be. Didn’t they?

Except every time I laced up my skates, everytime the ice welcomed me back like it had been waiting for me all along, I felt it—the pull, the certainty I was too afraid to claim.

This was what I wanted. Not lecture halls ortextbooks. Not chasing a path that ended at someone else’s dream.

I just wasn’t sure if I was strong enough tochoose it.