Frosted (Frosted Series Book 1)

by Taylor Rose

  Skating around the rink, I let my thoughts drift away, giving me a more relaxed state of mind. Calm. Cool. Collected. This would help me in the long run.

  The cool air assaulted my skin as I flew around the rink leaving an icy chill in its wake. A smile involuntarily spreads across my face. The feeling of being free, overwhelming my very soul.

  Freeing me.

  Completing me.

  Frosting me.

  *****

  A couple of months later…

  A loud pounding sound woke me up from a dead sleep. I jolted awake, panicked. My eyes snapped open, the hairs on my arms were standing on end and shivers overtook my body. Jumping out of bed in my nightgown, bare feet on the cold hardwood floor, I scurried across my room and cracked my door open. I needed to make sure everyone was alright, and safe once again.

  Too curious for my own good.

  Slowly, I peeked my head out of the small opening I had created. Once my head was through, I swiveled it left and right, scanning the hallway, checking to make sure nothing was out of place. Satisfied with my inspection, I pulled my door open more than before, this time big enough so that my whole body could fit through.

  The hallway was dark, the only form of light was coming from my ice skate night-light that was plugged into the wall by the bathroom door. Usually, it lit my way to the bathroom so that I didn’t bump into walls on my way there half asleep. Tonight it served a different purpose. Tonight, it lit my way towards the noise that woke me.

  I tiptoed down the hallway, not wanting to draw attention to myself by making noise, making sure to avoid the creaky spots on the floor. After a couple of minutes, I was finally standing at the very end of the hallway, which connected to the living room. Before I could move any more, muffled voices hit my ears.

  I inhaled a huge gulp of air into my lungs and covered my mouth with my hands. Trying to cover the sound of my breathing, and be an invisible force. I didn’t want to get caught. Not that I would get in trouble or anything, I knew I wouldn’t, but sometimes parents hide certain things from their kids, and this was one of the things I knew they would keep from me.

  More muffled voices reached my ears, but I couldn’t understand anything that was being said. Time to take drastic measures.

  As quiet as a mouse, I twisted my head around the wall so that I could see into the living room.

  Our living room was connected to our front door, which was open right now. A yellowish light illuminated the front half of the living room. The shadow of a man could be seen on the ground in our living room. A man I didn’t recognize and had never met. My dad was standing right behind the door, one hand leaning on the frame of the door, the other hand holding onto my mother’s hip who was standing on her tiptoes, flush up against his back, her head barely visible over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing here, dad? How did you even find me? You know what, I don’t care. You need to leave, you’re not welcome here,” my dad’s gravelly voice grumbled. Slowly, he tried to shut our door, but his dad – my grandpa – stuck his foot in the way before it could completely close.

  “Jasper, I’m so sorry. Please, just talk to me,” my grandfather slurred, his words mixing together, almost non-understandably. He was swaying from side to side, as if to a tune.

  “Are you drunk?” my father asked, seemingly surprised. “You never drink dad. What the hell?”

  “Maybe we should let him come inside,” my mother whispered loudly to my father, trying to get him to let his own father in.

  My mind was running a hundred miles a minute, spinning around so fast it was making me dizzy. My parents had always told me my grandparents had passed away before I was born. But if that was the case, there wouldn’t be a man here that my father was calling dad.

  What. The. Hell.

  “No, Jasmine,” my father seethed, hatred seeping through his voice. “You know why we can’t let him in. I swore they were done being involved in my life after what they tried to do to us.”

  Oh, what did they try to do to my parents? It must have been pretty bad for them to tell me they were dead.

  Curiosity supposedly killed the cat. Or did it?

  “But it wasn’t him that had a problem with us. If you look deep down, you know what I’m saying is true,” my mother murmured, using one of her hands to rub circles in my father’s back, trying to calm him.

  “Doesn’t matter. He chose her side in the end.”

  My mom huffed. Her annoyance was clear, but she stopped trying to talk my dad into anything after she realized that he was stuck in his own opinion.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore anyways. It’s not like she can do anything where she is,” my grandfather chuckled, his words still sounding slurred. His laughter was hollow and creepy.

  Gasping, my mother’s hands moved to cover her mouth.

  “What do you mean, she can’t do anything from where she is?” my dad asked, perplexed. He didn’t seem to understand what my mom did.

  “Well, she’s finally in hell, son. She died a couple days ago, I came here to tell you her funeral is tomorrow. Figured you might wanna piss on her grave or something,” my grandfather declared, seemingly happy about finally being rid of the old bat. A smile played at the corner of his mouth, his eyes shining with laughter.

  Throughout this whole conversation, I had slowly tiptoed my way closer and closer towards the front door, trying to get just a glimpse of the man who raised my father. I wanted to see what the man who raised my hero looked like.

  On the sides of our front door were small window panes with stained glass. During the summer, they let a little bit of extra color and light into the house, brightening it up. Tonight, they were what helped me accomplish my mission. Standing five feet away from me, on the other side of the door, was a man who took my breath away. Not because he was attractive, because that would be weird. But because he looked so much like my dad it was frightening. Like a carbon copy. The only difference was that the man standing outside our door had wrinkles on his forehead, probably from constant worrying, a little bit of greying hair, and he wore a rumpled, designer suit with solid gold cuff links. Flaunting that he indeed, had an obscene amount of money.

  My dad would never wear something so flashy. Instead, he wore simple jeans and a t-shirt even if money was something we never had to worry about. Humble; my family was the definition of the word.

  “Nice to know. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, we were sleeping before you so rudely pounded on our door in the middle of the night. We should get back to that,” my dad scoffed loudly, not giving a care in the world that his father just told him that his mother had died.

  My mouth hung open in shock.

  I didn’t recognize the man standing in front of me. I’d never seen or heard my dad be so cruel. My heart clenched in my chest, the pain radiating throughout my whole body, breaking my hope and snapping my faith. Shattering the illusion, I had been living in. My life crumbled around me before my very eyes.

  I gasped, my voice echoing throughout the room. My secret spying mission not such a secret anymore. My mom twisted her body around, her horrified eyes wide with shock. Her bottom lip quivering with sorrow. My dad’s back snapped straighter than before, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, steeling himself for the inevitable. The sound of my cries, the sound of me kicking and screaming.

  In that moment, I grew up faster than I should have had to. Rather than throwing a tantrum, I backed away slowly, trying to subtract myself from the equation. No longer wanting to see what was happening, no longer curious.

  Once I reached the hallway, I sprinted back to my room. Muffled voices continued to converse, without the attitude or hatred that had been there only minutes before. I slammed the door to my bedroom closed, not wanting to see either of my parents at the moment. I needed a moment alone to collect my thoughts.

  Climbing into bed, I pulled my covers tightly around my body. Needing their warmth. Needing thei
r safety. Needing their comfort.

  The tone my dad spoke in replayed through my head causing my body to involuntarily shiver. A painful jab passed through my chest, reminding me to let out the breath I had been holding in.

  Curling into a ball, I pulled my arms around my legs and laid there trying to sleep, but failing.

  Not everything was always as it seemed. Having just one side of the story only gives you a partial picture of what happened. A glimpse of the whole incident. Not the whole thing. The saying “don’t judge a book by its cover” at its finest.

  Tomorrow, I’d ask for the rest of the picture.

  Closing my eyes, I started to count sheep. One by one, they bounced over the moon slowly lulling me to sleep. My eye lids closed heavily.

  I felt a dip in my bed, but didn’t have the strength to open my eyes. A kiss got placed on my forehead, the pad of a warm finger brushed away the lingering hair on my face.

  “I love you so much, Figgy,” my dad cooed into my ear, the heat of his breath causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. “The only thing in this world that matters to me is your mother, your unborn sister and you. Always and forever, baby girl.”

  “Love you too, Daddy,” I sleepily murmured under my breath so that he couldn’t hear me.

  Always and forever.

  Eighteen years old…

  Using the pads of my index fingers, I pushed the headphones further into my ears. The cushion pads expanded, forming to my inner ears and kept them in place. The music pumping through the small speakers had always helped me concentrate, keeping me focused. And today of all days needed every ounce of attention I had.

  Every ounce.

  Every speck of attention in my body.

  Today was the day I’d been waiting my whole life for.

  Today, I was skating against the best of the best in the figure skating portion of the 2014 Winter Olympics; held in Sochi, Russia.

  Fucking Russia.

  Russia.

  Righteous.

  Not that I’d been able to wrap my head around it yet. But here I was freezing my ass off in a foreign country to compete with the best figure skaters in the world.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Concentrate. Concen-fucking-trate, Figgy.

  You need to focus.

  You aren’t a little kid anymore. You’re almost an adult. Almost. Only a week until your eighteenth birthday. One week, and no one can control you. One week until you can do whatever the hell you want.

  Focus.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath letting the oxygen fill and empty out of my lungs. I’m using every trick I had ever learned to stay calm. I held my arms out, wiggling and shaking them out, making all of the nervous energy racing through my veins dissipate.

  “Too Little, Too Late” by JoJo, is still blasting through my headphones on repeat. After years of listening to the same song over and over again, you would think I would be tired of it. I wasn’t. This song hit a spot in my heart; deep, raw, and passionate. A spot I hadn’t even tested out yet. It pulled at my heart strings, bringing out emotion buried deep within my soul.

  Finally somewhat calm, I sat down on the bench designated for me. A name card was placed above the spot that I had earned.

  Having already practiced an hour ago on the practice rink, I knew my time to get ready was dwindling down. Like the last bit of light you hoped to get from a candle close to dying. Hoping and praying for only a little bit longer.

  I pulled my backpack off of my shoulders, which landed with a resounding thud on the concrete floor. Unzipping my bag carefully, so that my outfit didn’t get snagged in the zipper and ruined for eternity.

  Taking my ice skates out, I placed them on the ground in front of me. My lucky socks stuck out of their tops. Pink fuzzy socks, with pictures of black and white colored cats chasing their own tails around. Something that should not be seen by anyone, let alone the judges.

  Could you imagine?

  First female ice skater, skate gets lost in competition, cat socks headline in every country in the world. Cats finally get the momentum they needed to take over the humans. Everyone blames me.

  Fuckity fuck.

  But, they’re my lucky socks, so I pulled them over my small ankle socks. Warmth coats my feet, the fluffy pink material adding an extra layer of protection and cushion. Careful not to pull them up high enough to be seen over my skates, I ran my fingers over them, feeling the softness and letting it seep into my skin.

  I pulled on my skates, making sure that my ankles fit into place the correct way. One hundred and twenty pounds landing on thin blades was not always the best for your body. You could hurt yourself while doing nothing wrong, so it was always best to do everything you could, stacking the odds higher in your favor.

  Twisting the laces around my fingers, I pulled them together tightly. Tightening them so much, that my fingertips lost all feeling for a few seconds. I needed to make sure that they stayed on my feet no matter what happened.

  *cough cough, crazy cat socks, cough cough*

  First, I tied them into a knot, to make sure that the laces stayed together.

  But before tying them into a bow, I placed a kiss on my fingertips and transferred it to the laces of my skates. For good luck. Just the thought of one of them getting loose while I was skating in front of hundreds of thousands of people freaked me the fuck out.

  A shiver slid down my body.

  Standing up, I stretched, leaning from side to side, loosening up my muscles and joints enough for my routine.

  Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I twisted my torso around. My coaches Helen and Henry were standing behind me, smiles plastered on the faces. Pulling out my head phones, I let them dangle from my shoulders, the music lightly lingering up to my ears.

  “You’re on in five, Fig,” Helen breathed out, heat creeping up her cheeks. Her eyes were shining with hope.

  I nodded my head, unable to form words from the emotion clawing up my throat.

  “Focus Figgy, focus,” pleaded Henry, his hands clasped together. “Now is your time to shine.”

  I blinked back tears, not wanting the little drops of salty water to blur my vision, but having a hard time keeping them in.

  “I’ve got this,” I rasped, my voice trembling with emotion. My vocal cords are aching from the tightness in my throat.

  “Up next, Figueroa Ryan!” the man running around the back yelled over and over again, trying to get me to make my way out to the main rink.

  Blowing out a breath, I nodded at my coaches, letting them know I was ready for anything. I walked out of the locker room doors with my head held high, confidence oozing off of me.

  Winners are not people who never fail, but people who never quit.

  *****

  Icy cold air nipped at my skin.

  A wave of comfort spread through my body from the familiar feeling.

  Calming me.

  Taking a deep breath, I let the coolness of the air energize me.

  “Welcome Figueroa Ryan, of the US Olympic team!” the announcer bellowed over the microphone, his voice booming out of the speaker system.

  Getting into position, I ran my hands down my sides, letting the silky material of my costume slide over my skin.

  I was wearing a light blue skating dress, with rhinestones and sparkles embedded into the fabric. A light blue color started at the top of my dress and sleeves, while it lightened the whole way down until it became completely white. The rhinestones and sparkles twinkled under the stadium lights, reminded me of snowflakes. Skin colored tights clung to my legs under the matching shorts attached to my dress which covered my body even while I jumped around in the air.

  Blue, sparkly eye shadow adorned my eye lids, which made my bright blue eyes pop. A light pink blush spread across my cheeks to finish my look.

  The music started.

  The notes flowed through my body like a rushing river, water flowi
ng seamlessly to its destination.

  I pushed backwards off of the ice, spinning in a circle, my arms in the air. After a full circle, I just continue backwards, my leg off the ice, level with my body. My right hand is bent down far enough to let my fingers brush the ice. My body twists in a small circle. Using that momentum, I moved into a layback spin; my body is standing up, one foot crossed over the other, my crossed arms on my chest, spinning with my shoulders and back slightly arched. I grab my left foot, holding it over my shoulder, continuing my back spin.

  Once that move was completed, I continued to skate backwards, my footwork showing the judges all of my skills. Once I was close to one of the corners in the rink, I dug my toe pick into the ice, pushing myself off to spin through the air, rotating in the opposite direction of the curve. I landed my Lutz seamlessly.

  From there, I added in a crossover, gaining speed by placing one skate over the other, multiple times. Using that speed, I pushed on the back outside edge of my right skate, using all of my strength to push off the ice. Pushing my left leg out into the air, I turned a ½ revolution before landing on the front edge of the left skate. From there, I moved into a forward glide and pushed into a forward inside three-turn; spinning my body around three times while still touching the ice with my skates. The falling leaf spin makes me face forward for the first time in my routine. Using the momentum from this spin, I dug the forward outside edge of my right skate into the ice, pushing my body off the ice once again, spinning 3 ½ times in the air before sticking my landing on the back outside edge of my left foot. The blade of my left skate sliced through the ice from my impact. One hundred and twenty pounds landed my triple Axle effortlessly. Pushing my body lower to the ice, I bent my left knee so that my skate was not touching the ice, but was extended beside my right leg, which was spinning in a sitting position.

  From there, I pulled my body up into a standing position. Still spinning, I pulled my left leg into my arms, so that it was straight up in the air, while my right leg continuously twisted and spun on the ice. This gives the illusion of a candle stick. Finally, I let that leg fall back down onto the ice, crossing over my right leg. I stopped spinning and bowed down low, my head almost touching the ice. I could feel flakes of the shredded ice sticking to my eye lashes.