Breaking the Ice Page 19

  Braedon waves his hand like it’s no big deal. “That party was a great idea. And it worked.”

  It was so nice to hear cheers when I skated. “I don’t understand why, though. I mean, we had to end it early. I thought people would be really mad about that.”

  “Are you kidding?” Braedon says. “They went to a party that got busted by rink management. It was exciting!”

  “Huh.” I never thought of it that way.

  Braedon drops his smile. “You know, I owed you for getting you into so much trouble.”

  “Thanks, but it wasn’t all your fault. I went along with it all—the Zam, skipping dance class, everything.” I pull my jacket tighter around myself. I don’t care who sees the club name now. I’m proud to be a member of Fallton.

  “But you wouldn’t have done any of those things if I hadn’t talked you into them. Sometimes I don’t think about stuff like that. I don’t see past the fun of it all.”

  “That’s your story, isn’t it?”

  He blinks at me. “My what?”

  “Remember when I first started at Fallton? You told me everyone there has a story.” I point at him.

  Braedon pushes his hair back. “Oh, right. The other clubs I skated with didn’t think my pranks were so funny. And for some reason, they really wanted me to show up to every single session. Not do fun stuff like run off to get Cokes right before off-ice.”

  “It was fun,” I admit. “But maybe we shouldn’t crash things or climb out of windows at sleepovers.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Speak for yourself, Double Axel,” he says.

  I realize he’s flirting with me again, which doesn’t make any sense. “Did you see Addison got fifth?” I nod toward where she and Mrs. Thomas have come in from the rink.

  “That should make her mother happy,” he says.

  “I thought my mom could get a little too worked up about skating, but she doesn’t have anything on Addison’s,” I say as I watch Mrs. Thomas open that notebook she always has and start pointing out things Addison could do even better the next time. Addison’s smile disappears.

  “A few days before we left, her mom made her cry,” Braedon says. “Can you believe that? Something about how if Addison didn’t do well here, her mom was pulling her out of skating. She’s really been on her case about landing the double axel, too. I was trying to help her with it.”

  “Oh.” Pieces of a puzzle are clicking together in my head. “Wait, was she crying out on the bleachers earlier this week?”

  “Yeah,” Braedon says. “Why?”

  “Nothing. I just . . . I think I saw her out there is all.” I feel a little light-headed as I remember Braedon hugging Addison that afternoon. It wasn’t because he likes her. He was trying to make her feel better about her mom. “Wait, is that how you got her not to tell on me for skipping dance class? Promised to help her with her double axel?”

  He nods. “Hey, maybe when we get back, we can hang out again?” he says. “I promise I won’t make you late to anything.”

  I smile at him. “You forget we’ll be hanging out a lot, scrubbing toilets.”

  “I meant something a little more fun than that.”

  “Yeah, that would be great.” And it would be. Just as long as I don’t confuse having fun with making dumb decisions.

  Braedon reaches out a hand. “Jessa’s group is up next. Let’s go see if we can be the loudest people in the bleachers when she takes the ice.”

  I take his hand and smile. And, in a weird way, I’m glad I messed up so badly at Praterville. If I hadn’t, I would’ve never met Braedon, Miyu, or any of the others.

  Not knowing them would be a lot worse than not qualifying for Nationals.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The results get even better as the day goes on. Jessa wins the senior division and qualifies for Sectionals, which is one more step before Nationals for higher levels. Everyone from our club seems to be riding the momentum of the party. I’m so happy about how things turned out, but something is still hanging over me.

  I think about it during the celebration dinner with Mom and Dad, and Miyu and her mom.

  “What’s wrong?” Miyu asks while our parents talk.

  I swallow some mashed potatoes—with gravy this time. “I’m sick of the secrets. I have to tell them or I’m going to go crazy. Tango Kaitlin wouldn’t be afraid to confess.”

  “Tango Kaitlin? Is that like your superhero alter ego?”

  “Something like that.” When I was skating today, I felt I could do anything and be anyone. I wasn’t afraid of placing last or worrying what everyone would think of me. It felt good.

  Miyu glances at her mom. “How about if we disappear for a few minutes?” She pushes her plate away. “Hey, Mom, I just remembered I left my gloves at the rink. We have to get them.”

  “Okay, we’ll go after dinner,” Mrs. Murakami says.

  “We have to go now.” Miyu’s voice rises like this is a serious glove emergency. “They’re my lucky gloves!”

  A crease appears over Mrs. Murakami’s eyes. “I didn’t know you had lucky gloves.”

  “I need them! It’s just down the street. We can come right back.”

  “Go on,” Mom says. “I understand lucky gloves. We’ll order you dessert.”

  Mrs. Murakami sighs and picks up her purse. “All right.”

  As soon as they’re gone, I channel Tango Kaitlin—minus the flirty eyes. “So, I wanted to talk to you guys about something.” I cross my fingers under the table. I can do this. I’ve done so much in these past two months I never thought I could, so this shouldn’t be that hard. Still, it feels like the room just got ten degrees warmer.

  “That sounds serious,” Dad says.

  Mom frowns. “Are you finally going to admit you didn’t drive the Zamboni into the wall?”

  Oh, yeah. Make that another secret I’m still keeping.

  “Um . . . I was there, but Braedon was driving.”

  “I knew it.” Mom slaps the table with her hand. “I’m going to talk to Greg.”

  “No! I mean, Braedon’s going to talk to him, so you don’t have to do anything. I was still part of it, and I know I should’ve left, so no matter what happens to Braedon, I still owe the rink.”

  Dad nods. “That’s a very grown-up attitude.”

  I look at my plate. “There’s something else.” I don’t look up, but I can picture Mom’s face. “So . . . you know that party?”

  “Yes,” Mom says. “How could we forget it?”

  “That was kind of my idea.”

  My parents just look at me for a second without saying anything. I cross the fingers on my other hand.

  “I thought Braedon was in charge of that,” Mom says.

  “Right, didn’t he withdraw from the competition to pay for the room?” Dad adds.

  “Yeah. He admitted to it before I could. The assistant manager wanted to kick out the entire club, but Braedon took the blame for everything before I could stop him.” I glance up.

  Mom’s face is unreadable.

  But Dad smiles a little. “That was gallant.”

  I try not to laugh. It’s exactly the word I’d thought of.

  “You organized that? Invited everyone? Made that nice video?” Mom asks. Greg had made sure to tell everyone’s parents all the details of the party.

  “Technically Braedon invited everyone, but I came up with the idea and made the video. I wanted all the other skaters to see that we’re just normal, fun people. And to maybe actually like us.” I brace myself for another lecture.

  “Hmm. Well, it seems to have worked,” she says.

  “It . . . what?”

  Now she’s smiling a little. “I should’ve known you had it in you somewhere, Kaitlin. You’re my daughter, through and through.”

  I don’t
know what to say, but I think of how Mom almost always gets what she wants. She’s never afraid to say exactly how she feels, or do what needs to be done to make something happen. Maybe I am more like her than I thought.

  “If you hadn’t come up with that idea and had the guts to see it through, you wouldn’t have had all that support behind you when you skated,” Mom says.

  Okay, that’s not the reaction I expected at all. But there’s more. And I know Mom won’t be happy about this one. “So . . . remember when you dropped me off at dance class and went to the grocery? I kind of didn’t go. To the class, I mean. I went to Burger Hut instead.”

  Dad covers his mouth. It almost looks like he’s about to laugh. Probably because he’d pick eating burgers over dancing any day.

  “So that’s what Jill was talking about. You went by yourself?” Mom asks.

  I look at my hands. “With Braedon.”

  Mom makes this I-knew-that-boy-was-trouble sound.

  “But it was my choice,” I say before she can blame him. “I didn’t have to go. I’ll pay you back with my birthday money for the class I missed. And I’m sorry you’re dis­appointed in me.”

  Dad reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “We aren’t disappointed in you.”

  I check his eyes for that Disappointed Dad look. It’s not there.

  “You’ve made some poor choices,” Mom says. “But you’re learning from them, and that’s what’s important.”

  Oookay. I thought Mom would freak out and start lecturing me about responsibility and peer pressure and wasted opportunity.

  “In fact,” Dad says, “we have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise grounding?” I don’t know what else they could possibly be thinking of.

  Mom laughs. “No, that would be an awful surprise. What have you wanted more than anything—aside from going to Nationals?”

  That’s easy. To go to school. But there’s no way. . . .

  Dad’s got his goofiest Dad grin in place, and Mom can’t stop tapping her fork on the tablecloth.

  “Not . . .” I’m almost afraid to say it out loud. What if they were thinking back to when I was five and all I really wanted was a purple pony?

  “School!” The word practically explodes out of Mom’s mouth. “We enrolled you in Grove Middle School, starting in January. Right after Nationals.”

  I give a little shriek and leap up to hug them both. “Really? This January?”

  “You bet,” Dad says.

  “Of course, you’ll need to keep up your training,” Mom adds.

  “I will, I promise. After all, I’m going to Nationals!” I sit down because the whole restaurant is staring at the crazy girl in the bright blue Fallton jacket who won’t stop hugging her parents. “What made you change your mind?”

  “You’ve had a rough couple of months,” Mom says. “A few weeks ago I would’ve said no way. But you’ve grown so much since then. You’re assertive and you’ve come through something that would’ve made most people quit the sport. You’re coming out of your shell.” She pauses. “I’m proud of you, Kaitlin.”

  “Me too,” Dad says.

  I don’t even know what to say. I’m beginning to wonder if aliens abducted my real mother, because this Mom isn’t reacting at all the way I thought she would. I think of Addison’s mom, and I realize how different mine is—and how lucky I am to have her.

  So I say the only thing I can. “Thank you.”

  “Now, we’ll have to set up a time for you to take a tour, meet your teachers, and all of that. I’ll talk to the principal when we get back home.” Mom pulls out her phone and starts typing away. Probably one of the gazillion reminders she sets for herself every day.

  “Mom, I think I should do that. Set up the tour and all, I mean.” Old Kaitlin would never in a million years say something like that. Tango Kaitlin, however, is totally brave enough to call a new school and arrange everything she needs to start.

  Mom smiles. “Of course.”

  “So there’s one more . . .” I trail off when I see Dad’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Is this another confession?” he asks.

  “There can’t possibly be anything else,” Mom says. She tilts her head and frowns a little. “Right?”

  I swallow my climbing-out-of-Miyu’s-window admission. Tango Kaitlin’s done enough damage tonight. “No. Just wanted to see if you guys were ready to order dessert.”

  When I admit my part in the party to Greg, I brace myself for the worst. How could he want to be my coach when I embarrassed him and then let Braedon take the fall?

  “You did that?” he says in amazement.

  “Yeah. I’m really sorry. I almost got the entire club kicked out,” I say.

  “Huh.” He’s looking at me like I’m somebody else.

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  Greg shakes his head. “You should’ve asked me and your parents so we could’ve done everything the right way. And you should have thrown the party after the competition was finished, but I think it’s all worked out for the best. I’ve never heard so much cheering for our skaters. And that’s all thanks to you.” Then he smiles.

  I guess he’s okay with Tango Kaitlin too.

  “So all of this stuff . . . the party, the Zamboni, even Praterville . . . that’s how you finally skated to the music,” he says. “You were able to draw on feelings you’d actually experienced. When you performed at Regionals, you moved with passion and fire.”

  I remember what the girl I met at the party said about pairing real emotions with her music. “So, I should get into a bunch of trouble before every competition?” I give him a mischievous smile.

  “Don’t you dare. But you can draw on those feelings anytime you want.” He taps my CD against the palm of his hand. “Now, enough talking. We need to get on with practicing for Nationals. You only have three months.”

  As I take my starting position, Braedon skates by and grins at me. And when the music starts, Tango Kaitlin knows exactly what to do.

  Acknowledgments

  Hey, you. Yeah, you, the kid reading this book. THANK YOU!! Without you, this book wouldn’t exist and I’d have to tell stories to my plants. Come visit me online at www.gailnall.com. I’d love to hear from you!

  Breaking the Ice wouldn’t be more than words on a computer if it weren’t for the amazing team at Aladdin, especially Annie Berger, who took a chance on my little skating book, and Amy Cloud, who jumped in with so much enthusiasm. Kaitlin’s story is so much better because of you both. A huge thanks to everyone at Aladdin who touched this book in any way! I also owe cake of every flavor and shape and size (and maybe some black olive and pineapple pizza, too) to super-agent Julia A. Weber, for all of her business smarts and editorial advice and cheerleading.

  A writer doesn’t get very far without the help of other writers. And I’ve been so, so, so lucky to find some seriously amazing and talented writer friends. To Jen Malone, ­Stefanie Wass, Heather Brady, and Manju Howard, beta-readers extraordinaire; to Gretchen Kelley, Sara O’Bryan Thompson, Mel Conklin, Dee Romito, Abby Cooper, Mike Winchell, Krista Van Dolzer, and Brenda Drake, for words of wisdom and encouragement; to the LL&N critique group, for reading all the bits and pieces—Charles Suddeth, Laura Stone, Amy Williamson, Anne Howard, and David Jarvis; to Team Weber, for constant support and virtual confetti cannons—Amanda Burckhard, E. M. Caines, Rebecca Hackett, Robin Hall, Andrea Jackson, Precy Larkins, and L. S. Murphy; to the ever-amazing MG Beta Readers, for being there every step of the way; to the Fearless Fifteeners—I couldn’t ask for a better group of debut authors!; to everyone in SCBWI Midsouth, particularly Genetta Adair, Candie Moonshower, Rae Ann Parker, Courtney Stevens, and Kristin O’Donnell Tubb, for welcoming a newbie writer with open arms, encouragement, and big smiles—this book wouldn’t be a book if I hadn’t joined SCBWI; and fi
nally, to the wider kidlit writing community on Twitter and the Blue Boards: you all are the best! I wish I could name more names, but it’s generally accepted that the acknowledgments should be shorter than the actual book.

  To Loismarie Van Ormer and Susan Caudill, for never letting me forget to bend my knees or keep my shoulders back; to Bob Farmer and Alpine Ice Arena, for being a second home during my younger years; to Darryl Coffelt, for the Zamboni ride and answering all my Zamboni-related questions, and Brian Farmer, for the Zamboni manual and enthusiasm; to the Louisville Figure Skating Club, Louisville Skating Academy, US Figure Skating, and the Ice Skating Institute, for simply existing and helping young (and old!) skaters’ dreams come true every day.

  To my friends Whitney Powell (thanks a million for the tango help!), Jennie Cole, Frances Adams, Marife Bautista, Margie Wise, and to everyone at St. John Center, for keeping me sane. I love you all, and I owe you more than I can ever give.

  And, most importantly, to my family: Mom, for telling me I could do anything I wanted; Dad, for always making me laugh; Cheryl, for endless hours acting out Little House on the Prairie, Sweet Valley Twins, and the Saddle Club; to Joel, Linda, Mike and Joann, Lisa and David, for all of the love and support; and finally, to Eva, my inspiration.

  About the Author

  Photograph by Gail Nall

  Gail Nall lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with her family and more cats than necessary. When she’s not writing books, she manages grants for a homeless shelter and chases her toddler. She once drove a Zamboni, has camped in the snow in June, and almost got trampled in Paris. Gail is also the author of the Aladdin M!X title Breaking the Ice. You can find her online at GailNall.com.

  MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

  KIDS.SimonandSchuster.com

  authors.simonandschuster.com/Gail-Nall

  WE HOPE YOU LOVED READING THIS EBOOK!

  We have SO many more books for kids in the in-beTWEEN age that we’d love to share with you! Sign up for our IN THE MIDDLE books newsletter and you’ll receive news about other great books, exclusive excerpts, games, author interviews, and more!