On Thin Ice

CHAPTER 1 Phoebe

It’s ten minutes after four.

“Where is Pete?” Irritated, I slump back onto the bench and check my phone for the hundredth time.

Nope. Still no text from him.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” our coach, Serenity, says.

“How could he be late for practice at a time like this? It’s like he doesn’t care that we’re only two months from Golden West.

”I let out a sigh so big that my breath materializes in the brisk rink air.

“Now, you know that’s not true.” Serenity gives me a look.

“In figure skating, you have to learn to trust your partner.”

Ugh, I knew I should have done singles. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past couple years, it’s that you can’t depend on anyone but yourself.

Shaking my head, I unzip my fleece jacket and throw it into my gym bag.

“There’s no point in sitting here waiting. You might as well start stretching,” Serenity suggests.

“Fine.” I’m halfway through my shoulder rolls and starting to loosen up when the double doors burst open and Pete rushes in with his skate bag slung on his shoulder.

“What took you so long?” I ask, my voice sharp enough to cut through solid ice.

Serenity’s eyebrows shoot up. “Phoebe!”

“I mean, where were you?” I say with a forced smile. “We were getting worried.”

“Sorry. I tried to text you, but my phone died,” he says, plunking down next to me. He rifles through his bag. “There was a lot of traffic. A big accident on the freeway, I think.”

“Seriously?” I say, side-­eying him. “Google Maps exists, you know.”

“I know, I know,” he says, fumbling with his laces. “I tried to tell my mom we needed to leave earlier, but she kept saying how it was Granny’s hundredth birthday and how the whole family was there . . .”

Serenity squeezes his shoulder. “Wow, one hundred years old. What an incredible celebration—­”

“Really lovely and all,” I interrupt, “but we can’t afford to get sloppy with our practices right before the biggest pairs invitational of the year. You want to win, don’t you?”

This is a rhetorical question, obviously. Pete and I have been training twice a week, two hours per session, preparing for Golden West since last spring.

His neck jerks. “Of course I do,” he says in a tone that tells me I’ve hit a nerve.

Good. He skates better when he has something to prove.

Because he weighs only a hundred pounds, some people mistake Pete for a timid little weakling, but they don’t know that on the ice, he’s a beast. I’d say he’s as fierce about shutting down his doubters as I am. That’s why we make such a good team. Well, that and he’s the one person in my life who hasn’t treated me any differently since my dad died.

Eager to get started, I unlatch the rink gate. “Let’s not waste any more time, then. Are you ready?” I ask before gliding out onto the ice.

“Sure.” Pete follows, his blades carving smooth arcs on the glossy surface.

Crisp air bites at my cheeks, and wisps of my hair whip my face as I cruise around the perimeter of the rink.

“Where should we begin?” Serenity asks.

“From the top?” Pete and I say at the same time.

“Jinx.” We laugh as our voices overlap again, dissolving whatever tension there was between us.

Serenity chuckles, shaking her head. “That’s how it is with pairs partners. Fighting one minute and laughing the next.”

It’s true. After all the time Pete and I have been skating together, we’ve become like brother and sister. At this point, I’m probably more in sync with Pete than my own twin brother, Dex.

The music comes on, and Pete and I begin our routine, falling into a familiar rhythm. We’ve done this choreography so many times, each turn and spin feels like our bodies have memorized the motions.

At least until we come to one of our harder jumps: the side-­by-­side salchow.

This one is tricky no matter how many times we’ve practiced it.

Hitching my leg back, I fling myself into the air with my arms tightly tucked to my chest. My eyes fixed in front of me, I concentrate on rotating all the way until I feel the satisfying thud of my blade hitting the ice.

I look over, and thankfully, Pete and I are still in step with each other!

But it’s not over. We still have to clear the waist lift.

Pete secures his hands around my sides while I grab his shoulders and, with a burst of energy, I push off as he lifts me high above his head.

For a moment, I’m weightless. Free from the million things that have been weighing me down. I spread my arms wide and take it all in. This is the part of skating that I love!

Everything feels right—­until it doesn’t.

Pete’s legs suddenly go wobbly, and his grip loosens.

What is going on?

Still suspended in the air, I’m so afraid, my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest. Carefully, I adjust my body to fix the balance, but then, all at once, Pete’s hold slips and we hit the ice hard. The wind is knocked right out of me.

Dazed, I tumble to a stop, trying to catch my breath.

“Are you two okay?” Serenity asks, hovering over us.

“I’m fine. But what happened there, Pete?” I demand.

He groans, rolling onto his back. “Uh, we fell?”

“You’re making jokes?” I snap, dusting off my skirt and getting back up to my feet. “It’s not going to be funny when Max and Ava wipe the floor with us at Golden West.”

Immediately, Pete’s eyes narrow. Nothing riles him up more than hearing the names of our archnemeses. Especially since they beat the Fudgsicles out of us at regionals­ last year. They weren’t exactly gracious about it either. So unless we want to get humiliated by them again, we have to figure this out. Now.

“C’mon, Phoebe. Let’s keep it positive. Why don’t you try it again,” Serenity says. “But this time, Pete, bend your knees and keep your arms steady.”

“Sure thing.” Pete grimaces as he gets up.

We’re back in position to initiate the lift again, but right as he picks me up, his body starts to tremble and he struggles for balance again.

What is up with him today?

I’m about to say something when Pete lets out a blood­curdling scream that’s so loud, it echoes through the whole rink. Before I know it, we’re both crashing down to the ice again.

Something about his shrill voice tells me that this was no ordinary fall.

“Are you hurt?” Serenity yells to him as she approaches, but he can barely speak. He’s clutching his leg and writhing in pain.

My throat tightens when I see that his kneecap is facing the wrong way.

“Pete?”

I shout for help, and Serenity is already on the phone, calling an ambulance.

My mind races with panic.

What just happened? Is Pete going to be okay?

CHAPTER 2 Dex

Hockey All-­Star tryouts are a total sham.

I was worried about it until Nathan told me that it doesn’t matter how well you do, because coaches mostly end up picking kids they’ve worked with before. Something about team chemistry and being consistent.

If that’s true, I’m in luck, because I’ve been on Coach Forrester’s team since, like, five years ago. Doesn’t get more consistent than that. Plus, everyone knows I’m one of his favorites.

Nathan’s convinced that with connections like mine, I’m basically guaranteed a spot on the team.

That’s a relief.

Now I can concentrate on what’s really important: getting revenge on Nathan and Gabe.

I don’t even remember how our prank war started. It might’ve been when they poured a whole container of salt into my water bottle while my back was turned. Or maybe it was the time I put slime in their skates. Or the time they hid a glitter bomb in my locker. Thanks to them, I still find bits of sparkle everywhere, like in my armpit today.

It’s been fun and games, but now it’s time to settle the score.

Patiently, I wait until Nathan and Gabe get caught up doing a play-­by-­play of last night’s Rangers game before I make my move. Sneaking to the other side of the locker room, I tear off small pieces of clear tape from the roll in my pocket. As soon as the coast is clear, I rush over to stick tape to the middle of each of their skate blades.

Exhilaration runs up and down my spine.

I got the idea for the prank on YouTube, and I can already tell it’s going to be epic.

My stomach feels like a shaken can of Coke, but I get suited up for tryouts like everything’s totally normal.

As we’re making our way to the rink, I put the plan into motion. “Hey, Nathan, Gabe! Bet you twenty bucks I can beat you to the net!”

“Twenty bucks? You’re on!” Gabe says, taking the bait like a total sucker.

“Yeah right, you’re going down!” Nathan elbows past us to get the lead.

Keeping my face straight, I play along, but really, I’m waiting for them to hit the ice. Literally.

And then it happens.

The tape on Nathan’s skate blade catches, and he goes teetering all over the place.

Same happens to Gabe. He tries to stop himself, but he can’t keep his balance either. They stumble each time they try to get up, slipping and sliding like they’re on a giant banana peel! The whole team is cracking up watching them.

“What the heck?” Nathan says, bewildered, as he slides to his butt again. Finally, he looks at the bottom of his skates and sees what I did. “Seriously, bro?”

Gabe checks his too. “Dex, you punk!” He laughs as he scratches off the tape.

My teammates and I are still howling with laughter and high-­fiving when Coach Forrester trudges over, all eyebrows and squish-­faced.

Uh-­oh.

“Someone could’ve gotten hurt. Who did this?” he demands, snatching the tape from Gabe’s fingers. He swivels and narrows in on me, and I know I’m busted. “This was you, wasn’t it?”

I try to look as innocent as possible. “I thought it’d be funny.”

Coach Forrester sighs, shaking his head. “Dex, this is supposed to be All-­Stars tryouts, and to be honest, you’re showing me that you’re not serious enough to be an All-­Star right now.”

“Sorry, Coach.” I hang my head, feeling bad about making him mad but also a little proud of myself for pulling off such a great prank.

“If you want to stay on this team, you need to stop clowning around.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, looking down at my hands to keep from cracking up.

But as soon as Coach turns away, I catch Gabe mouthing, “I’m going to get you back.”

Nathan points two fingers at his eyes and then points them at mine.

I cough into my fist to muffle my laughter.

This season is going to be awesome. I can already tell.

After tryouts, Nathan, Gabe, and I pile into the back seat of Nathan’s mom’s SUV, reliving the glory of my prank. “What I’d give to see the looks on your faces one more time,” I tell them.

Nathan play-­punches my arm. “I don’t know how we’re gonna top that.”

“Thanks, guys,” I say, leaning back in the seat. “Coach gave me a hard time, but it was totally worth it.”

Gabe says, “Don’t worry about him. He always goes easy on you. I bet he won’t remember it by first practice.”

“I hope you’re right.” I click myself into the seat belt. “He’s gotta know that I’m only trying to keep things interesting, right?”

“Speaking of interesting,” Gabe says, leaning forward like he’s about to spill something juicy. “What about that new kid, Jason? Did you see him today?”

“Yo, he was legit!” Nathan says, full-­on geeking out. “I heard he moved here from Canada.”

“Makes sense,” I say. The guy moves like he was born with hockey skates on.

“Apparently, Jason was a big deal back in Toronto. All-county MVP,” Nathan adds.

“I believe it. His footwork was pro level. And his shots?” Gabe lets out a low whistle. “They were like rockets.”

“Having him on the team is going to be huge,” I agree. I can already see the trophies we’re going to rack up together.

“You’re okay that he’s a goalie too?” Nathan asks, shooting me a curious glance from the corner of his eye. “Aren’t you worried he’ll take your playing time?”

“Nah, I’m not like that. Sharing is caring.” More than anything, I’m on the team to be with my friends. Let Jason have all the playing time he wants. Besides, it’ll give me more time to stay on top of my prank game.

Gabe scratches his chin. “But do you really think Coach will take two goalies?”

I stretch out my legs. “Look, Jason may be a hockey prodigy, but Coach and I go way back. You said it yourself—­he’s got a soft spot for me.”

“That’s true,” Gabe agrees.

My teammates don’t know this, but Coach Forrester was my dad’s frat brother back in college. I’ve learned there’s no quicker way to kill a conversation than bringing up your dead dad. Unless you want everyone to get awkward and move away from you like you have major body odor. Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.

You’d have to crack a killer joke or do something super random to reset the vibe, which I’ve had to do a bunch. Trying to make people forget I’m a pity case is basically my full-­time job. It’s fine; I embrace it. If someone has to be the court jester, it may as well be me. At least I’m still part of the group.

Nathan’s mom pulls into Gabe’s driveway, and after he gets out, she turns around to ask, “So, Dex, do you want me to drop you off at home or do you want to join us for dinner?”

I don’t hesitate. “I’d love to come over!”

“Great! I made extra for you,” she says, putting the car into reverse.

“Score!” I give Nathan a high five.

Mrs. Nguyen’s chicken pho is the best on earth, and joining them means I won’t have to spend another meal with my family.