by Jake Maddox
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COVER
TITLE PAGE
CHAPTER 1: THE BIG CHANGE
CHAPTER 2: THE COMPETITION
CHAPTER 3: THE NEW COACH
CHAPTER 4: COACH STONE'S SURPRISE
CHAPTER 5: MAGGIE FINDS HER MAGIC
CHAPTER 6: DECISIONS
CHAPTER 7: SURRENDER
CHAPTER 8: ROCK-N-ROLL
CHAPTER 9: MAGGIE ON STAGE
CHAPTER 10: SISTERS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GLOSSARY
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
WRITING PROMPTS
MORE ABOUT ICE SKATING
EXPLORE MORE
COPYRIGHT
BACK COVER
CHAPTER 1
THE BIG CHANGE
Magnolia’s heart hammered in her chest as she trudged down the spiral staircase into her family’s great room. The frowning faces of her ancestors peered out from behind the gold-framed pictures on the wall. Their faces looked as angry as her mother’s was sure to be.
Moments before, Magnolia’s hair had been blond and almost long enough to sit on. Now it was short and spiky and as blue as a robin’s egg. Watching the pale locks float to the floor as she hacked away with a scissors felt wonderful to Magnolia. It was almost as if she had been shedding something that had never really belonged to her.
But now she had to face her mother.
Standing outside the closed kitchen door, Magnolia — no, she decided, it would be just “Maggie” from now on — could hear the murmurings of her family as they prepared breakfast. Her father’s voice rumbled low like thunder, but it was her mother’s softer but sterner voice that really made the sweat break out on Maggie’s palms. She was probably telling Maggie’s twin sister, Beatrice, to sit up straight. Her mother was always scolding them about their posture.
In her mind, Maggie could see Beatrice obeying by lifting her chin and straightening her back. Beatrice always did whatever their mother wanted. Beatrice wouldn’t complain about the disgusting egg whites and spinach that would surely be sitting on her plate. Breakfast on the mornings of figure-skating competitions always meant egg whites and spinach.
The thought of having to spoon up that white and green slime made Maggie want to barf. She would eat without complaint, though. She was going to be in enough trouble as it was.
Maggie pulled her shoulders back. She thought, Well, I hope I live to see thirteen. She nudged open the swinging door and peeked in.
Sunlight streamed into her family’s kitchen. It was spotless and flawlessly decorated, just like the rest of their home. Her mother stood pouring coffee, the smell of the roasted beans filling the air. She was also spotless and flawlessly decorated. She wore an all-white outfit with large pearls earrings and fingernails polished perfectly pink. Maggie didn’t understand how anybody could ever wear white. She liked ketchup too much.
At first, no one seemed to see Maggie as she entered. Beatrice was in the middle of telling the story about how she had landed her first double axel the day before.
We all know how great you are, Beatrice, Maggie thought. You can stop rubbing it in.
Maggie slid into her spot at the table as silent as a ghost. Yep, egg whites and spinach. Gross. She held her breath and shoveled a huge bite into her mouth. She followed it with a gulp of orange juice to mask the taste. This would not be what she would have chosen for her last meal on earth.
When Beatrice’s voice broke off mid-sentence, the sudden silence pressed in around Maggie’s ears. It was more powerful than if a train had decided to roll right through their house. Her gut curdled with fear.
She had been spotted.
Her mother choked out a garbled sound from across the room and then went quiet. When Maggie dared to sneak a look at her from beneath lowered lashes, she saw that her mother’s eyes had gone round with horror. Maggie wasn’t prepared for the rush of shame that flooded through her. She ran a hand over the spikes on her head.
“I was . . . going for a . . . new look?” she said, her voice sounding small and scared. As if making a peace offering, she started to spoon her breakfast into her mouth again.
Beatrice’s mouth gaped like the trout Maggie had caught last summer at their lake cabin. The girls’ dad’s eyes twinkled and danced with thinly disguised amusement and maybe just a touch of worry.
The door to the kitchen swung as her mother stalked out.
Beatrice shoveled one last bite of breakfast in and threw her napkin on her plate. “Why are you so weird, Magnolia?” she said.
“Beatrice,” their dad warned. He raised his eyebrows as if to say more but left it at that.
“Seriously,” Beatrice said. “I don’t know how Magnolia and I are even sisters, let alone twins.” She gave Maggie one last scathing stare and left, flipping her blond ponytail over her shoulder.
“Guess they didn’t like your new hairstyle,” their dad said. It seemed as if he was trying really hard not to laugh.
Maggie gave him a grateful smile. At least it seemed as if someone was on her side. It’s just hair, she thought. What’s the big deal?
* * *
Zoe squealed when she saw Maggie at the skating rink. The two girls hugged. Beatrice rolled her eyes at them.
She’s just jealous, Maggie thought, putting down her monogrammed skating bag and opening up her locker. Beatrice spent too much time worrying about how to be a perfect ice skater. She never had any friends.
Zoe’s mom owned a hair styling salon, which was how Maggie had gotten the blue dye. Zoe was always showing up to school with crazily colored hair, and she regularly picked out her own clothes at the mall.
Maggie would give anything to do that. Their mother still ordered her and Beatrice to wear matching outfits like they were five years old.
The rest of the team was getting ready for the competition. There was a lot of laughing and chattering in the locker room. As each teammate saw Maggie, they either gave her a high-five or looked at her like she was insane. Maggie didn’t care. She felt more like herself than ever.
Giddy from the new feeling, Maggie dug out her skating outfit and grimaced. It was pink, her mother’s favorite non-white color. The skirt was lacy and flowing with delicate sleeves that looked like they belonged on a Barbie doll.
Maggie’s skates sat on the floor. They were the best skates money could buy. White, of course. She had asked for black skates a couple of years ago for her birthday, but her mother wouldn’t even discuss it. And when Maggie had asked to pick her own music, her mother just shook her head and picked out another boring classical song.
Across the locker room, Beatrice stretched. Her blond locks were in a high bun. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. She looked snobbish but comfortable in her skin. Maggie was certain that Beatrice didn’t feel the same wild pull inside of her body that Maggie so often felt. The pull tugged at Maggie and told her to do something different. To be someone different.
Maggie finished changing. She straightened her ugly pink costume and slid blade protectors over her spotless white skates. As she walked toward the exit of the locker room, she caught a glimpse of her bright blue hair in a mirror. Her heart did a happy little jig. She couldn’t believe she’d really done it and had the sudden thought that maybe she should just quit skating altogether.
CHAPTER 2
THE COMPETITION
Maggie picked at her fingernails as she watched Beatrice skate. The popcorn smell from the concession stands made her nervous stomach grumble. She hadn’t been able to finish her breakfast after all.
The competition was the last one until regionals, which would determine who’d go to state. Maggie had little hope for her own performance and told herself she didn’t care anyway.
Beatrice skated hard, turned, and planted her toe pic. She leapt in the air. Instead of the single axel she usually did, she doubled it.
Maggie couldn’t believe it. Beatrice had just learned that move the day before! Up in the stands, their parents stood and cheered. Maggie folded her arms across her chest and frowned.
Maggie and Beatrice were completely identical, all the way down to the mirrored freckles on their noses. The girls’ heartbeats had even beaten in sync before they were born. But as identical as they were on the outside, the girls couldn’t have been more different on the inside. Beatrice loved everything their mother loved: romantic movies, classical music, and reading quietly. Maggie liked scary movies, rock-n-roll, and wild dancing in her room. Sometimes she wondered if she had been born into the right family.
Beatrice went into her spin combination. Her arms curved above her head in the way their ballet teacher had taught. The music swelled in the air. Beatrice caught her foot in front of her and spun faster, the silver blades of her skates flashing.
Maggie didn’t know why she even tried to compete against her sister — Beatrice was so graceful. The back of Maggie’s neck felt hot all of a sudden. She was always nervous right before she went on the ice.
The crowd cheered as Beatrice finished her final sit spin. She rose and bowed to them as if she was their queen and they were her royal subjects. She looked so composed and sure of herself that Maggie felt another sharp prickle of jealousy.
Maggie looked around for Coach Bennett, who was usually there to give last minute words of advice. Strangely, she realized she hadn’t seen her coach at all that day. Maggie didn’t have time to worry, though.
It was her turn.
“You see my double axel?” Beatrice asked, her breath coming out in smoky little puffs from the exertion of her long program. Her eyes gazed with hope at Maggie. Maggie detected smugness.
“Oh, I wasn’t really paying attention, Bea,” Maggie lied. “Sorry.” She didn’t know why she didn’t want to congratulate her sister. She just couldn’t stand how Beatrice thought she was the greatest skater out there.
Beatrice’s face fell at Maggie’s words.
Maggie shoved down all of her angry feelings and took off her blade protectors. She ruffled her blue hair with one hand and tried to put her sister out of her mind.
The two of them used to do everything together. But then Beatrice had become obsessed with being the best at the same time that Maggie’s passion for skating began to dwindle. More and more, they avoided each other at school and at the rink. They seemed to barely tolerate each other during family meals.
The lights burned brightly as Maggie skated out onto the frozen stage. She felt her mother’s eyes boring into her, sending icy daggers into the blue hair atop Maggie’s head. She wished a portal would just open up. She would jump in and disappear.
Maggie crossed her skates and raised her arms above her head for the starting position. She felt like a tiny puppet that had its strings crossed. It seemed as if she was watching herself from high above the stands. She saw her pink frilly dress and her white skates clash with her blue hair like some mismatched doll.
It wasn’t as if Maggie hated everything about skating. She loved the way her muscles bunched and pulled under her skin when she leapt high into the air. She loved spinning so fast that she felt like she was melting right down into the ground like butter. She loved figuring out new ways to do the same old jumps and turns. She frustrated her coach daily because she always wanted to do her own thing instead of practicing a carefully choreographed routine.
When the gentle melody of her song started to play, Maggie had to stifle a groan. It was just so slow. The delicate violin music made her want to take a nap, not figure skate. She looked down at her dress. She wished she was wearing something bright and loud, and she wanted rock music blaring in the background.
Maggie had watched the famous U.S. skater Ashley Wagner skate to Pink Floyd’s “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” a million times. But whenever she brought up changing her music, her mother always said, “No, Magnolia. If you want to figure skate, you’ll do it the proper way.”
Maggie’s arms and legs began to move, but she felt stiff and mechanical. She felt like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz as she went into her first spin combination. Her skates slid beneath her awkwardly. She tipped over, her hand grazing the ice for a moment. Her cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment.
She was able to stumble through her footwork okay, technically, but she did it without any fire. She knew that everyone watching could see that she really didn’t want to be out there.
Jumps were up next.
Maggie skated backward, circling around to get into the right position. She approached the spot where she would do her axel-toe loop combination. She’d been struggling with that move for weeks.
She knew she was going too slowly, and she knew that her mark was going to be off. At the last second she tried to pick up the pace, but it was too late. She went into the air for her axel knowing that she wasn’t anywhere near as balanced as she needed to be.
She revolved around like an unwilling rag doll. She landed wrong. Her skate slid, and she fell hard onto the ice. Pain shot through her hip and went into her back.
Maggie didn’t have time to think.
She pushed herself up from the cold surface. She wanted to salvage the rest of her routine but skated the next minute in a haze.
The music died down. Maggie tried to re-create the ending position, but her left leg was throbbing from her fall. It slipped from underneath her, and she went down, again, onto the ice on one knee.
At last, the violins finally stopped their horrible tune.
Maggie got up and limped off the ice to a smattering of applause. When she dared a quick peek up into the stands, she saw her mother standing there with her arms stiff by her sides. The scowl fixed on her face cut deep grooves in her cheeks.
Maggie ducked her head in shame and plowed onward, almost running right into Beatrice, who was blocking her way.
“That was an interesting program,” Beatrice said, her face pinched and mean.
Bright red blotches formed on Maggie’s cheeks, and she shoved past her sister. She wanted nothing more than to curl up and hide forever.
CHAPTER 3
THE NEW COACH
The next morning, Beatrice sat in the front of the car and chirped away at their mother. She went over every move from her performance the day before. Their mother still hadn’t spoken to Maggie about her hair. The jealousy that Maggie had felt from the day before when Beatrice had won the competition had grown into a giant angry toad squatting in her belly.
Maggie traced lines into the frost of her window and daydreamed about walking into the rink, tossing her skates onto the ice, and never looking back. An image of her mother’s disappointed face flashed through her mind.
She wished she had the guts to go through with it.
When they arrived at the rink, Beatrice hopped out, as always prepared and excited to get to work. In the back seat, Maggie struggled to make sense of her stuff, frantically jamming warm-ups and skates into her skating bag.
“I want you to know how disappointed I am in your decision to wreck your hair, Magnolia,” her mother said. Her voice came calmly from the front of the car.
Maggie looked at the rearview mirror to catch her mother’s eye, but her mother stared straight ahead. Maggie got out of the car as quickly as she could. She decided to pretend that her mother hadn’t spoken at all. As she stomped up the stairs to the rink, she wished she’d had the guts to say something back to her mother. Inside the locker room, she laced up her skates. As she did, her hands trembled.
No other girls had arrived. She and Beatrice got the most ice time out of anyone and were always at the rink first as their mother insisted. Maggie would have gladly given her time to someone else as it obviously wasn’t doing her any good. She’d come in dead last at the competition.
She opened u
p her backpack, pulling out the pink warm-up sweatshirt that had, until recently, been identical to the one Beatrice was wearing. Maggie had made some alterations to the sweatshirt using some scissors and paint and glittery jewels. The blue swirls she’d painted would look great with her hair. Her mother would probably have to hide all the craft supplies from now on. Maggie snickered to herself.
Maggie waited for Beatrice to leave the locker room wearing her flawless puke-pink warm-up. Then Maggie threw hers on. She took a few minutes in front of a mirror to admire how the bedazzling sparkled as she turned. The rips in the shoulders really added something, too. She was glad in that moment that her mother never stuck around to watch practice anymore.
Maggie made her way out to the rink. She realized quickly that something was wrong. Instead of doing her morning drills, Beatrice was standing all by herself and looking forlorn. Their mother was still there, gesturing and talking loudly with the rink director.
“Hey, Bea, what’s going on?” Maggie asked, approaching her sister.
Beatrice looked like she was going to cry. “Coach Bennett quit,” she said. She wrapped her arms around herself. “She got a better offer at another rink, I guess.”
Despite the selfish shiver of happiness that shot through her own body, Maggie felt bad for Beatrice. She knew how much her sister loved Coach Bennett. Maggie had always had a more difficult relationship with their coach. They had different ideas on how Maggie should be spending her ice time. And they were both stubborn.
“So who’s going to take over?” Maggie asked, trying hard not to sound too thrilled.
Beatrice’s lower lip quivered. She pointed out to the ice at a man, dressed all in black, who skated like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was doing spins and jumps over and over, tiny chips of ice spraying into the air every time he landed. When his hands whipped around, the silver rings on all of his fingers caught the light and winked.
Maggie thought, with a thrill, that if that was their new coach, things were definitely going to be changing.
