Without stopping the trail of kisses from my ear to my throat, Jonah reaches behind my head and pulls a picture off the Wall of Fame. He slaps his new picture around until it hooks on the wall.
“Problem solved.” Jonah tilts my face toward his and gives me a kiss that is neither gentle nor soft.
I pull Jonah down until we are both kneeling on the well-worn carpet behind the skate counter. Nobody else in the rink notices we are missing, or maybe they leave us alone on purpose. I don’t question. I just give thanks and try my best to make Jonah forget all about the kiss he witnessed earlier.
“Is my son here?” Mr. Choi’s voice echoes around the rink.
Jonah pops to his feet, but mine have fallen asleep. The thousand pins and needles in my calves compete with the buzzing in my belly.
“Nope, I can’t find the hammer either,” Jonah says loudly. “Guess we’ll have to leave it as it is.”
Jonah leans over and straightens his new picture on the Wall of Fame. I hang on to the counter for balance as the blood rushes back to my feet. I flip over the old picture frame lying facedown on the counter. It’s mine and Egg’s. Our last gold medal performance. Until I can replace it with a new one, that picture needs to stay on the wall to remind me every day to get off my ass and take that life back.
“Hey, not this one.” I take down Jonah’s first gold medal picture and put mine back up.
“But that one’s old. These two are new.”
When Jonah reaches for his picture, I move it over to the other side.
“I’ll ask Ernie about the hammer the next time I see him. Until then…” I lean the picture up against the other wall.
I give Jonah a peck on the cheek before exiting. He stands there slack-jawed. I touch the back of my costume to make sure I haven’t had a wardrobe malfunction or something.
Mr. Choi does a double take when he sees me. A crease forms between his eyebrows, especially when Jonah comes out of the skate booth wiping bloodred lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jonah is already on the ice doing warm-up laps by the time the normal teen version of Olivia emerges from the women’s locker room.
“C’mon, Mack, it’s good enough. Just fix it right there, and save it.” Egg points to the computer screen. “I gotta get this uploaded before 11:59 p.m. And my flight leaves at nine thirty.”
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Mack says, not realizing I’m behind them. Egg makes a noncommittal noise like he’s actually considering the suggestion.
“It’s too hard making minute changes on my laptop.” Mack closes her computer. “I’m off at seven. I’ll grab some takeout on the way home. We’ll do a quick final polish, and have this up by eight.”
Egg gives Mack’s shoulder a squeeze. “Fine, but at least let me make you dinner.”
“You’re on. And, seriously, Stu, Granny said you were welcome to stay for as long as you want. Especially if you keep cooking for her.” Mack packs up her laptop.
“Really? Well, in that case, I guess I could stick around for a few more days. I’ve already maxed out my absences in most of my classes, so what’s the point of going anymore?”
I clear my throat. “So, do you need me, Egg, or can I take Mom home now?”
“Nah, I’m fine. I don’t need any more help. Thanks, though.” Egg goes to hug me but drops his arm before contact. “Er, I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“Okay, guess I’ll go do homework or something.” I shift my workout bag over my shoulder. “Call me as soon as you know something.”
“Sure thing, Short Stuff.” Egg puts out his hand for a high five.
Egg has never high-fived me in his life. I leave him hanging. The kiss was a mistake. One small mistake.
“Hey, Olivia! Wait!” Jonah powers over to the wall. “Want to hang out after my private coaching session on Saturday afternoon?”
Half of me wants to yell, “Hell, yeah!” The other half is still pissy about the picture situation. “Let me check my schedule and get back to you.”
“Oh.” Jonah tilts his head to the side, obviously not expecting that response. “Okay. You know where I’ll be.”
Chapter 23
We now return you to your regularly scheduled Normal Teen Life.
Tuesday, Jonah insists I show everybody the final cut of Egg’s audition reel. Though I’ve already watched the five-minute audition piece a good hundred times on my laptop since Mack emailed it to me last night, it looks completely different on Jonah’s phone in the middle of our lunch table. Who knew that Mack was such a talented videographer? The shots connect seamlessly, even the final kiss. The herky-jerky ending is gone. Instead, the kiss melts into a final headshot of Egg alone with his email address, cell number, and social media information.
“Wow, that was awesome,” Naomi gushes.
“I would pay money to see him perform,” Erika says.
All the air deflates out of my giant head. Yes, it’s Egg’s audition piece, so most of the footage is of him, or has him in the foreground and me in the background. But they only see Egg’s transformation, not mine.
Brandon takes Jonah’s phone and backs up the video. He freezes on the only frame of the entire piece where I am front and center. Finally. A little recognition.
“Are you wearing a bikini?” Brandon pulls the phone closer to his face.
Jonah rips the phone out of Brandon’s hand. “No, she’s not.”
“Hey, did you guys remember to pick up your National Honor Society application this morning?” Naomi digs in her backpack and pulls out a paper.
Erika pulls out a matching piece of paper. “Got it.”
“Don’t have it,” Brandon says, and Erika lets out a sigh of disappointment. “Will have it by the end of the day, though.”
“Good. Which teacher are you going to get to write your recommendation?” Erika says.
“Probably Dr. Woods,” Brandon says. “He laughs at my jokes in history class.”
“You guys didn’t get one?” Naomi looks at Jonah and me. “They’re due on Friday. No exceptions.”
“Nah.” Jonah pulls his headphones out of his backpack and connects them to his phone. “I got a deficiency notice in English last night.”
Erika and Naomi look at Jonah like he said, “I knocked over a bank last night.”
“It’s no big deal,” Jonah assures them. “My grades always take a hit this time of year. Once the skating season is over, I’ll have more time for school.”
“And volunteer work,” Erika—who is currently manifesting being valedictorian senior year—adds. “I hope you both will come volunteer with me over spring break at the Child Crisis Home. It’s only six hours each day.”
Jonah cringes. “I don’t really like little kids.”
“Me neither, but it’s an easy thirty volunteer hours. All you have to do is show up, wipe noses, read to them, keep them from whacking one another on the head with toys, and then you go home.” Erika turns to me. “You’ll come, right, Olivia? You’re good with little kids. Plus, I’m sure you need to diversify more for your college applications.”