Frosted (Frosted Series Book 1)

by Taylor Rose

  Applause and cheers broke out throughout the stadium, bouncing off of the walls.

  My heart was beating as fast as a hummingbirds flapping wings.

  I pulled my body up straight, curtsied to the crowd, and skated over to the exit, adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

  My cheeks and nose were covered in blotchy red spots, but a smile was permanently plastered on my face.

  Once my skates hit the rubber floor, I hobbled over to the bench where one of the announcers was sitting. The coolness of the bench spread through me as I sat down, creating a shiver that raked my body.

  In the blink of an eye, my coach Helen had placed hard plastic covers over the blades of my skates, making it easier to walk when I needed to get up next. Without saying anything, she handed me a bottle of water, tipping her head down, telling me to drink it. Unable to disobey, I twisted off the cap and gulped the whole bottle down in just a few mouthfuls. Using the back of my hand, I dried off the droplets that clung to my lips.

  “Let’s see how Figueroa did, shall we?” the announcer bellowed to the crowd. His voice vibrated the bench we were sitting on, tickling my tushie. A laugh started to bubble up out of my chest, but before it could escape, it got sucked back into my lungs, lodging itself in my chest.

  The air was sucked out of the room, causing me to gasp for breath. One hand clinging to the bench with all of the strength I had, and the other clutching the fabric of my costume above my left breast.

  No way.

  The judge’s numbers were displayed on a huge screen for everyone to see. They added up to a number I couldn’t believe I was seeing.

  229.17

  The highest number for any women to be given in the Olympics thus far. This number just bumped me up into first place for the women’s total scores, putting me above both South Korea and Russia.

  Un-fucking-heard of.

  The stadium erupted into cheers. Booing. Crying. Every sound possible.

  My ears were ringing, stopping me from hearing everything going around me. As if I had gone deaf.

  Calming me.

  Like waves crashing into the shore.

  Soothing my soul.

  My heart was bursting out of my chest from happiness.

  There was only one skater left, one from my team. Team USA. She was in the middle of her routine right now.

  Jade Stonewall.

  She was rockin’ it, shredding the ice as if her life depended on it. She landed her quad Lutz without any trouble. My breath stayed lodged in my throat, involuntarily.

  Thinking ceased. Breathing ceased. Living ceased. Everything fucking ceased.

  If she scored lower than me, I would become the gold medalist for female figure skating in the 2014 Olympics in Russia. Literally, I would be in first fucking place.

  Her skates wobbled just a fraction of an inch on her last landing jump; her triple Axle.

  I sucked in a bunch of air, filling my lungs to full capacity. The sting of oxygen burned.

  Skating off of the ice, Jade held her head up high while waving to the audience. A lone tear trailed down her check, falling onto the rubber mat we were on, showing her heartbreak.

  She could have beat me, if only she had cleanly landed her triple Axle. But, her skate wobbled, which cost her the gold medal, and made me an Olympic gold medalist forever. No matter what happened for the rest of my life, this was something that could never be taken away from me.

  There is no triumph without a struggle.

  I struggled to get here.

  I fought to get here.

  I worked really fucking hard to get here.

  I gave it my all.

  And now, it was mine.

  I earned it.

  I breathed it.

  I loved it.

  I deserved it.

  It was finally mine.

  ******

  One week and one day later…

  Right when you think life can’t get any better, the wool gets pulled over your eyes and blinds you.

  Rain drops fell from the sky. The dinging sound from the contact the drops made with the roof rang throughout the house. Thunder boomed while lightning zapped through the dark, murky, grey colored sky, briefly lighting up the dark abyss.

  The show “VeggieTales” was playing on the television in the kitchen, the room right next to where I was watching something more grown up; Vampire Diaries. The cartoon tomato and his vegetable friends were dancing and singing on the screen while Aqua was eating her dinner, watching with undivided attention.

  Aqua is my baby sister, and she’s only four years old. She’s able to talk, but doesn’t yet understand most of what actually goes on. My parents had her late in life, considering I was fourteen years older than her. Yes, fourteen years. A whole teenager older than her. This was the reason I was at home on a Friday night, instead of going out with my friends. Because I was babysitting my younger sister.

  I just turned eighteen yesterday; I should be out at a club partying with my friends instead of being holed up at home, bored and alone. My parents were out doing an errand for me; meeting with my agent, signing over the money I won for getting the gold in Russia. It was in their name before because I was still a minor. But now that I’m legally an adult, that money is mine, which is why both of them had to go. I was left alone with Aqua; the nuisance of my life at the moment.

  What eighteen-year-old wanted to watch their sibling instead of being with their friends? The answer is none of them. Teenagers are selfish creatures, only wanting to help themselves.

  My parents loved Aqua more than life. Sometimes I even thought it was more than they loved me.

  I scoffed.

  Like they could love someone more than they loved me.

  My fingers clicked away on my new, white iPhone 5s, typing a response to Dan’s text message. This was my eighteenth birthday present from my folks.

  Dan and I had been messaging back and forth ever since I won the Olympic gold medal about a week prior. We are trying to set up a time to meet up and hangout. If his picture on Facebook was anything to go by, I was going to be in trouble because he was hot, like seriously good looking. My hands shook with nervous energy just thinking about him.

  My phone vibrated in my hand. Looking down at the screen, I noticed Dan had replied already.

  DAN: 2nite? R u sure babe?

  ME: YES! I have the house to myself 2nite

  DAN: C u 2nite then ;)

  A smile took over my face, thinking about finally meeting the guy who was stealing my heart. I sent him my address, letting him know he could come over at 10 pm.

  My parents said I had to watch Aqua, but they never said I had to do it alone.

  *insert evil laugh here*

  Peeking my head into the kitchen, I watched for a minute as Aqua danced and sang to the television show she was obsessed with. The topic of the song being adjectives.

  I snorted.

  “Aqua, you good?” I asked her through a fit of giggles.

  “Yeah, Figgy,” she sang back to me, not breaking the melody that was already playing from her show.

  Without hesitation, I ran down the hallway, turning into Aqua’s room. Her bed had a pink princess theme. At the head was a sheer pink canopy that hung from ceiling to floor, and at the foot was a chest that held her clothes. I pulled her pajamas from the chest and laid them on her bed. Her ceiling and walls were lined with glow-in-the-dark stars, creating a night sky every night she went to bed. I hoped this would be helpful later when I needed her to go to sleep.

  Brushing off my hands, I walked out of her room and directly into mine.

  The walls of my room were a lavender color at the top that bled into a dark purple as you reached the bottom. My closet was built into the wall, vertically adjacent to my bed, which is a queen size, tucked into the far corner of the room. A deep purple, down comforter rested on top of the bed, looking light and fluffy. A flat screen televi
sion was mounted in the middle of my wall with a swiveling stand so that it could be seen from anywhere in the room. A small light wooden nightstand was next to the top of the bed, my alarm clock resting on top.

  The clock on my nightstand read 7:30 pm, which gave me just enough time to get ready and then get Aqua into bed before Dan got here.

  Rushing into my closet, I grabbed a pair of grey boots. They had a small one-inch heel, with buckles on the sides by the ankle. A black baby doll shirt was hung up in front of me which I pulled off of the hanger and laid across my arm. I found a short sleeved grey knit sweater which I plucked from the back of the closet door. Running over to my dresser, I pulled out a dark blue pair of skinny jeans with a rip in the knee and ran into the bathroom. Dropping the clothes to the floor, I rummaged through the vanity for the makeup I needed.

  Scrambling through the doors and drawers of the vanity, I found the makeup I wanted to wear. I swept eye shadow onto my eye lids, giving my eyes the Smokey look before opening the liquid eye liner. In one swoop, I pulled the liner onto my lids as well, adding in some class. Last but not least, I pulled open the mascara and painted my eye lashes with the bold black color. Darkening my lashes added mystery to my appearance.

  Blinking into the mirror, I focused my gaze. Blood rushed to my cheeks, adding a hint of pink to my face.

  The doorbell rang, loud and long. It echoed throughout the house.

  Looking at the clock, I noticed it was only 8:30 pm. No way! He’s here early!

  I dressed as quickly as I could, making sure not to smudge my newly applied make up.

  The doorbell rang again. This time twice in a row, as if more urgently.

  I ran down the hall as fast as I could, skidding to a stop at the doorway.

  Running my hands down my shirt, I let my fingers linger on the material, smoothing it over.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

  But Dan wasn’t the one on the other side of the door.

  Instead, there stood a police officer. The lights to his car still on behind him, illuminating the fact that his uniform was drenched from the rain and his hair was dripping wet. His eyes locked on mine, sorrow shining through his gaze.

  “Figueroa Ryan?” he questioned. His voice was gruff, his head tilted to the side.

  I cleared my throat.

  “That’s me,” I squeaked out, nervous as all hell. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong.

  “Can I come in?”

  Instead of answering out loud, I nodded my head and pulled the door open all the way, giving him enough room to enter the house.

  “Is anyone else home?” the police officer asked me, his tone lighter this time.

  “Just my little sister,” I admitted while wringing my hands together.

  But I mean, why does that matter? I may not have much experience with this kind of thing, but it wasn’t illegal or anything.

  “I have to talk to you both,” he murmured, his head hung low.

  Weird.

  Nodding my head, I led the way to the kitchen. Aqua was still watching goddamn VeggieTales.

  Mother of god.

  Walking right up to the television, I turned off the screen. Before Aqua had a chance to protest, I pulled her into my arms holding and hugging her at the same time, bouncing up and down lightly to calm her.

  The police officer coughed out loud, clearing his throat.

  “I’m not sure how to say this,” he started, his police hat in his hands. “There was a terrible accident.”

  I sucked in a huge gulp of air.

  “What?” I rasped.

  “There was a car accident. A drunk driver crashed into your parents’ car, totaling it. They didn’t make it, I’m so sorry,” he rushed to explain. I wasn’t listening anymore. A blinding pain spread through my chest, burning me with its magnitude.

  I fell to my knees, Aqua still clutched in my arms.

  A cry broke out from my lips, screeching and desperate.

  Tears prickled my eyes, falling down my cheeks, soaking my shirt with their salty wetness.

  “Noooooooo!” I wailed out, my voice cracking with emotion. “No, no, nooooo!”

  Aqua cried crocodile tears, her small body buried into my chest. Her hands clinging on to me for dear life. Her tears drenched my shirt, mixing with my own.

  A sob took over my entire body.

  “It’s okay. Everything will be alright,” the cop murmured to me while rubbing his hand on my back in circles, trying to calm me.

  Sobs raked through me, tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Nothing will ever be alright again,” I whispered, my voice horse.

  The last week and a half had been a dream. A living, waking dream. I had been walking on cloud nine, floating through life blissfully happy. Until tragedy struck.

  They promised that dreams could come true. Forgetting to mention that nightmares were dreams, too.

  Having your dreams come true was like living in a fairytale, but the reality was that a nightmare was right around the corner.

  Lurking.

  Hiding.

  Waiting until the moment I was the happiest to strike.

  Shattering me. Body, mind, and soul.

  My world had just crumbled before my very eyes.

  Leaving me smashed into a million pieces, scattered across the ground.

  Fifteen years old…

  “You stupid piece of shit! You’re worthless, boy,” my foster father slurred as he grabbed another beer from the fridge. After six years of living through this shit, I’d learned to keep my mouth shut, no matter what he said.

  When I was in the group home, I wished every single night that I would be adopted. Living with countless kids that were as depressed and upset as you were, doesn’t make you feel any better. Actually, it made you feel even worse than you originally did. Every night while I slept, I would dream of being with a couple who loved me. When I was 9 years old, I was told I was being adopted. I was so happy that I had tears streaming down my face. Mitch came to pick me up from the shelter. He was so nice to me, he said we could stop on the way home to get a puppy! I jumped into his arms and gave him a huge hug. I thought all of my prayers had been answered. When we got home without picking up a puppy, I was upset. But I was happy to be out of the group home, so I didn’t complain. All of my dreams had finally come true. Until we stepped through the front door. That’s when he picked me up by my throat, slammed me into the wall so hard you could hear my bones crack, and said, “I fuckin’ hate you, you little weasel!”

  Using his free hand, he punched me in the stomach until all of the oxygen was out of my lungs, and I was gasping for breath. When he finally released me, I crumpled to the floor in a heap and had tears streaming down my face for a different reason.

  Instead of my dream coming true, I was living through my worst nightmare.

  I was in hell, with nowhere to go.

  I sat at the rickety table in the dining room, doing my homework for the night. I needed to stay up to date in all my classes. I was in the tenth grade at the local high school, and had to work twice as hard as anyone else at keeping my grades up. Everyone always says that high school was easy, but it’s not so easy for me. I’ll graduate by the skin of my teeth. Also, I have no hope of graduating college. Getting in won’t be a problem though, I already know that I’ll have scholarships lined up for me. But for sports, not academics. Scouts from colleges all around had already started watching me on the ice, hoping to snag me for their hockey teams. But if I wasn’t able to keep my grades up, I wouldn’t be able to play regardless of how good I was. So, making sure all of my work gets done on time was my top priority. All of the time.

  As I finished up the last piece of my homework, I glanced around the room looking for my bastard of a foster father. He was such a fucking prick. A lazy, selfish bastard. I hated him more than fucking anything.

  Mitch was staring at the television, his e
yes bugging out of his head. I started to wonder what he could be watching, but once I saw that he was pitching a tent, I realized he was watching porn. Eww. I needed to get the hell out of this house right fucking now, because I didn’t want to see what happened next.

  Gross mother fucker.

  Running down the hallway, I stopped in my room and threw my books and papers into my backpack sitting on the floor. I fell to my knees, stretched my arms under the bed, and grabbed the pair of hockey skates I kept hidden there. They may be old and worn in, I mean I bought them at the Salvation Army, but they worked well enough. Clutching them to my chest, I opened up the only window in my bedroom and jumped out. I was hoping that the devil himself was so busy getting off that he didn’t even notice I was gone.

  I secured the skates on my bike, and start riding over to the teen center in the small town of Redding, Alaska. They have an after school hockey program that I’m involved in, but the only time I could actually go was when the bastard I called my parent wouldn’t notice that I was gone.

  My bike flew through the streets as fast as my feet could pedal, hoping with all of my might that I would get there in time to actually do something with the team, with another person. Getting to the parking lot, I scanned the area and saw some cars are still here, which made me fist pump the air in celebration. I parked my bike on the bike rack, and hoped to god that it wouldn’t get stolen. I didn’t have anything to lock it up with. With skates in hand, I walked through the double doors of the center where a wave of cool air flowed against my skin, branding me with its chill.

  They had to have it almost freezing in here so that the ice part of the rink didn’t melt.

  I looked around and noticed a couple of guys from the team still skating around on the ice. Thank fucking god . I sit down on the bleachers and grab the extra pair of socks I brought with me. My skates are too big so I have to wear two pairs, but it makes them fit perfectly and doesn’t give me any blisters. I put the skates on my feet as fast as humanly possible. It’d been weeks since I’d been able to skate with another person. I always got here too late and ended up skating on the ice all by myself. Pulling the laces so tight that my fingers turned white from blood loss, I tied them into a double knot to keep them in place. Tripping over laces on the ice was not my idea of a fun time. I ran to the ice as best I could with blades strapped to my feet