Breaking the Ice Read Online Free PDF Page B

was so excited about me officially joining Fallton, she gave my phone back last night. The first thing I did was text Ellery about the club. She just got back to me.
    My phone beeps before I get the chance to respond.
    CAN’T BELIEVE UR SKATING W/ THOSE FREAKS.
    NOT SO BAD, RLY , I type.
    WHATEVER.
    C U SOON.
    I wait for a response. When nothing comes, I stuff the phone into my skate bag. I just wish she was happy I’m skating again, the way Dad was when I told him Fallton didn’t seem so bad. After all, Miyu was really nice. Jessa Hernandez skates there, and then there was that guy with the perfect hair who called me Double Axel. And even though none of the coaches are Hildy, Greg seemed really into working with me and didn’t even mention my fiasco at Praterville.
    Best of all, I’d be unstoppable at Regionals if I could skate with that wonderful, light feeling like I had on Saturday. That feeling I used to have moving around the rink at Ridgeline, where nothing exists except me and the ice. If I work hard, maybe I can make the judges forget what happened at ­Praterville—and those embarrassing apology letters Mom made me write—and be back on track to qualifying for Nationals.
    In the rink lobby, I find an empty chair—one that’s not broken—and pull out my skates. Miyu is talking with some other skaters. She waves. I wave back. I’m wondering if I should join her when Mom sits next to me.
    She consults a sheet of paper from her purse. “I signed you up for two free skate sessions this morning. You have a lessonwith Greg first thing. They don’t have skating again until later this afternoon, so we’ll go home and you can do your schoolwork. Then when we come back, you have a couple more practice sessions and an off-ice class. Oh, and we’ll have to join a gym, since there’s no exercise equipment here. You can’t slack off on your strength training.”
    I yawn just thinking about it all. As I lace up my skates, I watch through the rink windows as a slender blond woman makes camp on the bleachers. She lays out a blanket, pours coffee into a mug from a thermos, and pulls a notebook and pen from a huge orange bag. She has to be someone’s mom, although I don’t know why she’s sitting out in the cold by herself when she could watch just fine from the lobby with most of the other parents.
    â€œKaitlin! It’s so nice to see you. Are you ready to work?” Greg looms over me, smiling as if seeing me is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
    I double-knot my laces and stand. “Ready.”
    â€œSkate hard!” Mom shouts after us. She’s already moving toward her usual rink activity—gossiping with the other parents. I swear Mom knows more about skating than I do, and she’s never even been on the ice.
    I pull my guards off and glide toward the far wall todeposit my stuff before working on the ice bumps. As I dig into the nearest one, someone flies past me. The girl is blond, about my age, and wearing this expensive practice dress Ellery and I drooled over when we saw it at a designer’s booth at the last competition.
    â€œAddison! Time to kill the bumps,” Greg yells at her.
    She comes to a graceful stop next to us and daintily jabs her toe pick at an extra-large bump while she glares at me. “Who are you?”
    I stare at her for a moment. Everyone was so nice on Saturday. Who in the world is this girl? “Kaitlin.” I give her a smile.
    Addison doesn’t smile back.
    â€œKaitlin, why don’t you start down near the Zamboni garage?” Greg winks.
    I skate off to the end of the ice—far away from Addison. One by one, the other skaters trickle out, and the bumps are gone in no time. Greg gives me ten minutes to warm up before my lesson, and I take off across the rink with the same free feeling I had on Saturday.
    It’s not until I start my jumps that I notice Addison