She flew across the ice with power, grace and elegance. She moved in a way that couldn’t be taught. It was as if every movement was instinctual. Ingrained and apart of her. She was a little blackbird, completely free. And for three minutes and thirty-five seconds she was all anyone ever saw. The only thing I saw. I was impressed then. As I am now.
Chapter 2.
Yuri
“The situation is complex.” Dean hovers near my shoulder.
Like me he is zoned in on the sudden scatter below. The ballet class ends and all the students begin to make their way out. Sage gathers her red duffel bag and changes shoes. Other dancers float around her doing the same. But I couldn’t care less what the other dancers do. I only watch her. I only ever see her.
“What do you mean, it’s complex?” I ask trying to keep the anger from my voice.
“She’s had a very tough year. She’s just now starting get back into the swing of things. If this is going to be problem in any way shape or form, I’ll put a stop to it.”
“On whose authority?”
“My own.”
I snicker at his self-righteous tone. Same old Dean. He leads everyone to believe that he has Sage’s best interest at heart. I know differently. I know that his words are worthless because his actions discredit everything he says. But he is good at pretending. So, I’ll let him pretend. He has convinced everyone including his daughter. That’s why she is shooting daggers with her eyes at Sage from across the studio.
“You’re her coach. Not her father.” I remind him. “I’ve been asked to do a job and I plan on doing it. With or without you.”
The older man crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs. He looks down at the girls. Something passes over his face when he sees them. I can’t quite read it nor do I understand it.
“You’ve never had good intentions when it came to her.” He accuses with a stiff finger into my chest. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you have me fooled.”
We stand toe to toe. Built up tension that has snowballed between us over the years hangs in the distance. I remind myself why I’m here and quickly realize that this is only one of the battles I’ve prepared myself for. The war is still ahead of me. I better save my strength. But it’s important that he realizes, I am prepared to do battle. With him and whomever else thinks they can get in my way.
“Now let me be clear,” I growl. “You can’t fool me either.”
Dean squints his eyes up at me and drives his finger harder. I want to break that damn finger along with his jaw.
“I don’t know what scheme her aunt has cooked up or how you’re involved—but if you hurt her in any way, I’ll kick your ass myself.”
“I can’t hurt her any more than you have.” I retort shoving his hand from my chest.
Dean reaches up and grabs me by the collar. I chuckle as he tries to thrust me into the glass behind me. My hands move quick to his wrist, turning them outward and overpowering him with little effort.
“You’re not going to start that nonsense here.” He hisses even as he howls in pain. “God dam—,”
“Dad?” Kennedy gasps as her eyes jump between us. “What’s going on?”
We manage to distance ourselves right before Sage enters. My stomach muscles contract at the dismissive way she turns from me, choosing only to see Dean. I swallow the lump in my throat and fight the urge to kiss her. It’s such a weird feeling, considering it happened once when she was eighteen. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to thinking about that kiss at night. Or if I didn’t admit to comparing every kiss after it to that one.
“Is everything okay?” Sage steps up to Dean and examines his wrist. “What happened.”
She’s close enough for me to smell. I pray that the Lord forgives me because I find myself inconspicuously breathing her in. She smells like strawberries and crème, her favorite shower gel. It’s mixed in with her sweat. Somehow the sweet fragrance still lingers on her skin. And it still smells delicious. My heart races beneath my ribcage and all the blood flow starts heading where it shouldn’t. God damn it.
“I’m fine, sweetheart.” Dean says to Sage.
Both Kennedy and I notice how easily that term of endearment flows off his tongue. Sage pays it no mind as she bites down on her full bottom lip.
“What’s going on? You said it was important.”
“It is.” I interject.
I have high hopes that if I speak to her, she’ll at least look at me. She crushes those quickly. She doesn’t even lift and eyebrow my way.
“Dean?”
“I’ve been fired.” He murmurs.
Sage gasps. “Fired?!”
I try to cushion the blow with a charming smile that she doesn’t see. “Downgraded, is a better way to look at it.”
“I’m still your coach. But your aunt has asked that you compete in Pairs this season.”
“Pairs? With who?”
A small grin moves over my lips. “Me, little bird.”
Ah. That does it. Her eyes flame red as she turns around and burns them at me. “Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you then?”
Her eyebrow shoots up. Then her mouth opens, ready to give me her hostile response. But Dean interrupts us. He garners Sage’s attention by taking her by the shoulder.
“It’s not my call. Your aunt has made up her mind.”
“Well, she can’t do this. I’m not prepared for Pairs. The Olympics is next year. I’ll lose my spot in Singles. You have to talk to her.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve tried.”
I watch as Sage grips her wrist. The same wrist I’d drawn the flower on years before. She starts to chew her bottom lip and then her fingers nervously scratch up and down her arm. I can tell that she doesn’t mean to, but she looks over at me anyway. By her eyes, it looks like she’s going to spin out of control. I reach for her as if I can somehow stop the thoughts that I know are racing through her head.
“Sage, you asked me to come and—” I try.
She shoves my hand away and panics, “You’re a liar! I never…I wouldn’t.”
“Can we talk about this first?”
“No!”
Dean tries to grab hold of her but she’s too fast for him as well. She takes her duffle bag and begins to back out of the room.
“Sage please, if you and I could just talk for a minute.” I call to her.
“There isn’t anything to talk about. My Aunt’s mind is made up. I have to go along with it.” She turns and questions Dean. “Don’t I?”
Her gaze silently pleads with him to tell her differently. But he and I both know that’s not going to happen. In fact, we all know that.
“You and me.” I remind her with those words of a secret promise. “Just us.”
Another dismissive cock of her head before she tosses her bag over her shoulder. And then it’s her racing out the room. That’s all I get. She’s done with me. Well, can’t I at least be happy that she spoke to me? Maybe. Maybe not.
“This is bullshit, Dad.” Kennedy argues shaking her long blonde hair.
“Kennedy listen to me. This isn’t what I want to—,”
“Oh yeah fucking right. You’re doing it again. You’re picking her over me.”
As they argue, I look over the ledge and watch as Sage runs across the studio’s wooden floor. And then just like that she’s gone.
Kennedy and Dean begin to leave as well. The feeling of loss stirs in my chest. I hate seeing Sage upset. I always have. She doesn’t understand now but I’m here for her. I’m trying to help her and we can win the war together. If she lets me in again, we can do anything together. Before Dean is all the way gone, I call over my shoulder to him.
“So, what time is practice?”
Chapter 3
Sage
Answer your phone.
The message flashes across my phone in the palm of my hand. I shove it back into my pocket, right as my aunt calls me for the second time. She doesn’t wa
nt to talk. Talking is a give and take. There is listening involved and she never listens to me. She wants to dictate. And she fully expects me to follow through because I have to. I owe her for the dream she’s paying for. My Olympic dream.
My class files out and I go with it, waving goodbye to my teacher. Lunch is my favorite and most important meal of the day. I’m not able to practice my jumps on a full stomach, so it has to be filling but light. I always go to the salad bar at Greenway Chops, across campus. It’s a bit of a hike, but well worth it when I arrive. On my way out of Wilson Hall, I see Kennedy. The worst part is, she sees me. As soon as we make eye contact, she makes a beeline into my path and I know that shits going to hit the fan.
“So, now you want to compete in Pairs?” She scoffs. “You know damn well that Chris and I want that Pairs spot in the Olympics.”
“This wasn’t my idea. I found out about it when you did. So, I’m sorry but you can’t blame me for this one.”
“Oh, you are loving this, aren’t you Sage? You can’t just stay in your lane. My Dad kicks you out, tells you he’s finished with you after this season and you just have to pull him back in.”
I roll my eyes. It’s hard to believe that we were ever best friends. We can barely stand being in the same room with one another these days. But she was there this morning. Kennedy knows how everything happened. I keep my mouth shut because she isn’t going to hear a word I say anyway. So, what’s the point? If we stand here arguing, then we both look like idiots. I shuffle my backpack higher on my shoulder and move around her.
“Don’t ignore me bitch.” She hisses.
I’m not afraid of Kennedy. I could kick her ass and already have. But that didn’t solve anything. It nearly cost me my scholarship which means my degree in sports science would have been toast. I have to be smart. And the smartest thing to do when it comes to her is to just walk away.
Kennedy steps directly in front of me, halting my movements. “Did you hear me?”
“I don’t answer to that word. So, you couldn’t have been talking to me.”
She wants to hit me, but I can see her trying to restrain herself. If she didn’t hate me so much we could actually be friends again. We’ve got a lot in common. We’re the same height. We’re both figure skaters with a strict training schedule and diet. We even share a peanut allergy. But I have a little more than what she has. Thighs, hips and breast. I’ve got enough to share. My friend Kacee thinks she’s jealous of me because I work with her father. I think it’s more than that.
“How did you get Yuri Meshkov to compete with you? Are you fucking him?”
That gets another eyeroll from me. No one spreads their legs like Kennedy Schultz. She thinks that every problem can be solved with her ass up and her face pushed down into a pillow. When we were friends, I ignored that character flaw because hey, nobody is perfect. But we don’t have that in common. If anyone would be willing to sleep their way through a situation it’s her.
“No, I’m not fucking him.”
“Oh bullshit. You’ve been after him since we were teenagers. And you will do anything to make yourself look better than me.”
“I didn’t ask Yuri to come here. He came because…”
Well I still don’t really know why he is here. But I sure as hell don’t need to explain it to Kennedy.
I sigh. “Forget it.”
“You’re so pathetic.”
She wants to argue. I can see the determination in her eyes. It’s mixed right in with her hate for me. I’m not going to give in to her taunts. We both know that whatever discipline I compete in, I’m always going to be better than she is and that’s the real issue.
I push past Kennedy. “Excuse me.”
“My Dad can’t see it, but you’re a level ten attention seeker. That stunt you pulled a few months back, was nothing but you throwing up a spotlight and screaming look at me.”
My blood boils after her words. And she knows it too. I think she can feel how pissed off I am becoming. I clench my fist in the pocket of my jacket.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh. trust me, I do. If you were really going to do something, you would have done it. No. You get off on the whole ‘poor Sage Parker’ shtick. It’s what keeps my Dad around. You guilt trip him into being there for you because he was friends with your mom. We get it, your mom died. Your Dad is asshole who left you. That doesn’t mean you get my father to fill your empty emotional void.”
In my mind, I’ve already broken her nose, knocked out a few of her front teeth and I’m tearing out those ridiculous blonde extensions from the fucking root. Her hair is just as curly as mine in its natural state. But she’ll do anything to look like figure skater barbie.
In reality, I’m turning away. If I have to take the long way to get across campus than so be it. I won’t let Kennedy goat me into ruining my last semester. I’m so close to being done and to being on my own. Freedom is just a few short months away. I won’t let her or anyone else take that from me. I’ve been through too much.
“Why don’t you do everyone a favor and get it fucking over with already!” She shouts.
A few students look up at me. I turn my head down refusing to meet their bewildered stares. Eventually my brisk walk turns into a jog. That jog rolls into a full out sprint across campus. Inside the restaurant, I bolt for the bathroom and claim the first available stall. My mind is a wreck. I’m shaking when I reach down into my backpack. In a secret compartment and wrapped in paper towel is a razor blade.
I’m angry that I let Kennedy get under my skin. I’m pissed that what she said feels true. Why don’t I just get it over with already? Why don’t I end this torment? Because despite what happened ten months ago, I don’t want to die. But I am tired. I’m tired of pretending that’s nothing is wrong.
I have a pain inside me that no one believes. At night I cry tears that no one will see. Then I wake up and pretend that everything is fine. I tell myself that I can push through another dark time and that I can cope. But I can feel it getting harder. I don’t know how much longer I can go on.
I say that to myself all the time. Still, I bend and I stretch and I give because I’m scared. I’ve resisted help for so long because I’ve been taught that help is for the weak. And the label mental illness isn’t meant for black women.
The blade hovers over my scarred arm. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to push out the pain. I try not to be weak. I just cope the best way I know how.
##
“Mrs. Glover, your niece isn’t pregnant.” Doctor Jonas had said to Auntie Carrie.
We sat in my primary care physician’s office in silence. I watched the small fan in the corner of the room rotating it’s head and slowly lifting the edges of a stack of brochures about the Flu shot. After a few days of not eating and not wanting to get out of bed, Dean had called my Aunt and Uncle. They flew in convinced that I’d somehow gotten knocked up. Then they dragged me in to the see the doctor. I knew that I wasn’t and tried to explain, but no one would listen.
So, I did what I was told. I peed in a cup. Let them take my weight and vitals and then sat in the office with Auntie Carrie and waited for the results. She looked disgusted with me the entire time. Every now again she’d let out a big puff of air and call me an idiot or a slut. I should have had a smug grin on my face when the doctor confirmed what I’d been saying all along. Instead I sat in silence. Just watching the fan.
“She’s lost weight.” Auntie Carrie argued. “Her coach says she’s been less involved in her skating. If she isn’t pregnant than what the hell is wrong with her?”
Dr. Jonas sighed and tapped the back of his pen on the desk. By all accounts he is a good doctor. He always remembers little details about me. Like the fact that I hate grape flavored anything but love watermelon. He tells me when he has seen videos of my competitions. Says things like the entire clinic is rooting for me to go all the way. And unlike my aunt or uncle, he talks to me. They all talk
down to me.
“I’m no psychologist,” he began. “But I believe Sage is suffering from Depression. It’s not uncommon for a girl her age, especially with all that she has to deal with.”
Laughter. Now that’s not something you hear from Auntie Carrie everyday. Even Dr. Jonas realized this was unique and watched her from over the brim of his glasses.
“She’s a child. What could she possibly have to be depressed about? She ain’t even lived yet.”
“How is her home life? She has mentioned that her mother is sick.”
“Her mother has been sick most of her life. That’s nothing new. Sage isn’t depressed, she’s rebelling. That’s what this is.”
“Sage?” Dr. Jonas asked turning his focus to me. “How are things with your host family?”
I can feel Auntie Carrie’s eyes on me. Daring me to say that things are anything but rainbows and butterflies. I want to tell him that I feel alone. That although the family is kind to me, I don’t feel like I belong. And I miss my mother. I know she’s dying but I just want to be with her. I would give up skating to sit at her bedside. But I’ve said those things before and more. It never works out well for me.
“They’re fine.” I lied.
Dr. Jonas was disappointed in my statement, but I could tell he understood.
“I’m recommending you see a psychiatrist anyway. I know a good one. You’re a young lady with a lot on her plate. It would be an excellent idea for you to talk to someone. And if there is something there, there are medications and different therapies. Depression isn’t the end of the world. You can cope.”
I tug on my sleeve. I’ve been coping but my way isn’t healthy.
Armed with a folder filled with pamphlets and papers about teenage depression, we left with my doctor’s referral to see a psychiatrist. Auntie Carrie didn’t say anything until we were pulling out of the parking lot. She reached over and snatched the folder from my lap and tossed it in the back seat.
Black Ice Page 2
