Chapter Eight Ana
Chapter Eight
Ana
Before—Eight Months at The Palace
Avery Hall smelled of bacon and syrup. Edie always made pancakes on Saturday mornings, and the heat of late August had taken hold of the odors and followed Ana and Mio right up the stairs after breakfast.
Mio was standing on a small stool so she could see herself in the dresser mirror, checking that her underwear wasn’t showing when her skirt moved.
When she was satisfied, she climbed down and gathered her things into a small backpack. Ana sat on the edge of her bed, still listening to the lecture that had begun the second they’d returned to their room.
“I know they’re your friends, Ana. But don’t go to the field with them.”
Mio had become like a substitute teacher—she had a lot to say but wasn’t here very much to say it.
“The things they think they know are wrong. Nothing good ever happens at the field.”
The field had been the topic of conversation at the breakfast table.
And not just among the Orphans but everyone, especially the trio of men from abroad who’d been here all summer.
Ivan from Germany, Hugo from Spain, and Travis from South Africa, though he was an American with dual citizenship, skating for another country so he could make it to the international stage in the next Olympic cycle with Mio and, fingers and toes crossed a million times, Indy.
Hugo was twenty-one, and he’d been taking orders for the beer, vodka, and gin—Jack Daniel’s for Kayla—over a mountain of pancakes smothered in Nutella.
His eyes had remained fixed on the door to the kitchen, where Edie was inside scooping leftover batter into plastic Tupperware, loading drink cups into the dishwasher, until he saw her approaching and told them all to shhh! Shut up!
Mio couldn’t stand those boys. She’d warned Ana to stay away from them.
“You still have a lot to learn about this place. The Orphans—all of you—you’re just playing a game of being grown-up.”
Maybe that was true, but Ana felt like she’d been through a transformation. No more crying in the closet down in the basement. No more sleeping in the Orphans’ room every time Mio was away.
It had not been easy.
There were nights when she’d woken up and lost track of where she was, expecting to be back home in her room, Connie clip-clopping down the hall with a scarf around her neck, Carl humming a song from behind the bathroom door, the water running while he shaved his beard.
There were, it turned out, endless memories like these that had to be seen and felt to then be mourned and sent scurrying away, because home was not like that anymore.
There was no clip-clopping. No humming. She was certain, though she had no idea what had come in its place.
And while she lay there, alone, she’d taught herself the trick of making a list—all of the things she’d learned, all of the things she’d conquered since she’d arrived at The Palace and Avery Hall.
She could now manage a bank account, shave her legs, use a tampon, fix the chain on her bike that was always slipping off.
She’d found comfort with the Orphans—her new family that did new things together.
Things that filled her up, like gossiping about the boys downstairs or driving around town for no reason at all, just because.
Singing at the top of their lungs. Jolene’s perfume.
The clove cigarettes that lingered on Kayla’s clothing.
And Indy—everything about Indy had started to feel like home. Her new home.
“Don’t go to the field,” Mio said again. Her face was serious as she stared at Ana, eye to eye because even at eighteen, Mio was not a centimeter taller. She shook her head quickly, her short black bob swinging side to side.
“Nothing good is happening there. Do you understand?”
Ana nodded, though she didn’t understand. Everyone was going to the field that night. It was the last night of the summer program, which was ending with a big show. And it was also the last night before the start of school. The entire town of Echo would be there—not just the skaters.
“We can watch a movie instead,” Mio promised. “I’ll drive us to get ice cream first.”
But Mio had never been to the field. It was just a bunch of kids drinking and messing around.
It had already become one of the things that felt good to Ana, simply because it was something the Orphans shared.
Mio was wrong—and besides that, Ana’s mind was on the solo that she was going to be performing in less than two hours.
She told Mio, “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”
Mio smiled, but with concern, maybe even disapproval. “Oh—Ana. Be careful. Please! I’ll see you at the rink?”
Ana watched as Mio bounced out of the room, glad to have that out of the way. She had to get to the rink.
She headed next down the hall to assess the situation with the Orphans.
“What are you guys doing? Costumes and makeup are starting in five minutes!”
Kayla looked up from her bed, where she was laying out clothes for later, after the show, when they would forget about skating and go to the field.
“Chill.” She plucked a T-shirt from the pile and set it aside on her pillow with a pair of jean shorts.
For Ana, this night was more about the show than the party.
They’d been rehearsing for two weeks, the entire training program virtually halted so they could learn their group numbers, choreograph their solos, not to mention an entire day to transform the larger of the two rinks into a stage.
Props and lighting and a curtain blocking off a quarter of the ice for staging each number.
They’d already had two dress rehearsals to get out the kinks.
The show always borrowed themes from Disney movies, recreating the story with skating numbers set to their songs, with costumes for the different characters. This year it was Pirates of the Caribbean. Ana had never seen it but assumed it was self-explanatory. Pirates. Their ship. On an ocean.
Ana had a solo—ninety seconds alone on the ice, in front of every skater, coach, parent, and judge who lived nearby and came to watch. Tonight. In two hours. And now they were already officially late for costumes and makeup because Jolene and Kayla were obsessed with the field.
Jolene was at the mirror, slowly brushing her hair. It wasn’t even pinned up yet, and with Jolene’s hair that could take forever. She turned and smiled, a seductive expression sweeping over her face.
“Up or down tonight?” She grabbed the thick auburn waves and gave them a twist and a pull to the back of her head, paused, then let them fall around her face.
Kayla glanced, then decided. “Down.”
Which satisfied Jolene, now shoving it all into a band, a sloppy ponytail that was not going to work with her costume. It had a headpiece, and all her hair needed to be hidden inside it. They’d have to fix that at the rink.
Indy’s voice echoed from down the hall. “We’re late!” she said as she burst into the room. She ran to her unmade bed and grabbed the bag she’d packed for the day. “My mother is going to kill me!”
“I know!” Ana was grateful for the reinforcement.
“Fucking Patrice,” Kayla said, a little louder.
Indy sighed, with extreme exasperation.
“Fucking Patrice is going to kill me. I can’t be late!”
And then Jolene also sighed, with aggravation, because to her the show was a nuisance she had to get through until the party at the field.
Bag on her shoulder, Indy charged toward the door, grabbing Jolene’s car keys from the dresser and tossing them to Ana.
“We’ll go without you! Ana knows how to drive.”
Ana felt her heart jump. Jolene had let her drive a few times, but that didn’t mean she actually knew how. And she was two years away from even getting a permit. She looked between her two friends, the keys in her hand, not knowing what to do. But then Jolene folded.
“Fine,” she said to Indy. Then she turned to Kayla. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
She took the keys from Ana’s hand and, finally, they headed down the hall.
They drove to The Palace with the top down, music blasting, sun shining.
The show just two hours away, and Ana’s solo, and the costume that made her look twenty and not thirteen.
Everyone had noticed at the dress rehearsal.
Hugo told her she looked sexy, and Travis tried to pinch her ass, true to form. No one liked Travis.
They parked in the back of the already crowded lot and made their way like a proud band of thieves through the door to the snack bar, then to the big rink, which was decorated with fake palm trees and strips of sand-painted plastic, and the red velvet curtain at the far right end that opened to the locker rooms.
Kayla mumbled, “This is a total shit show,” and maybe it was. But Ana had never felt this kind of excitement.
The Orphans walked to the other end, out through a set of swinging double doors, to the second rink that was being used for makeup and costumes.
The second rink was smaller, about two-thirds the size of a normal arena. Years ago, skaters would practice compulsory figures there, before they were eliminated from competition. Now it was used for practicing spins and choreography, and giving public lessons for little kids.
This week, for the show, the ice was covered with rubber mats and racks of costumes. Headpieces, suits, dresses, capes, and skate covers shaped like pirate boots.
Ana could barely sit still when it was her turn to have her makeup done, and then have her costume zipped and strapped and buttoned by the skating mothers who had volunteered to help with the show. She just wanted to be on the ice.