Authors: Beverly Lewis
On the sidelines, the smartly dressed gentleman sat on the same bench as yesterday. She guessed he was a drifter, though she wondered about his nice clothes. Maybe he was just someone who needed a place to sit and rest. Or maybe he was a lonely old man who enjoyed watching the skaters.
The mall was the ideal shelter from the wind and rain outside. Free from the early fall drizzle that Livvy had slopped through to get here.
Stealing another glance at the man, she tightened her
skates. He seemed more interested in his surroundings than his newspaper at the moment.
Mall walkers were out in full force. Probably because of the weather. She wished that someday she could get her dad to come here and exercise with the rest of the town. And while her dad walked, she could skate. A super setup. If she could just coax him to get up early . . . and
other
important things. Like agreeing to pay for skating and ballet lessons.
She stood up and did a few back-stretching exercises. When she caught the man looking her way, she waved. “Hello again. How are you today?”
“Just dandy,” he answered with a wrinkled smile. A pad of paper lay on the bench beside him. Probably checking the newspaper ads for odd jobs.
She stretched some more and did twenty-five jumping jacks, swinging her arms back and forth, before ever taking to the ice. When she’d run through her warm-ups, Livvy did several easy jumps—two double flips and three double toe loops—one after the other as she worked her way across the rink.
Sharing the ice with the other less-experienced skaters and their young coach, Livvy was careful to keep a safe distance. She practiced a combination spin, changing her feet and her position while keeping her speed. She practiced it again and again, at least fifteen times. Next, she circled the ice, shaking the kinks out of her legs.
But as hard as she tried to focus, Livvy’s thoughts kept drifting back to last night’s phone conversation. The oddest thing was that Jenna insisted on being kind to Diane. Her plan was absurd. It bugged Livvy. Her best friend wanted to hang out with the meanest girl in town!
Why?
The idea of having to overlook Diane’s horrible, near-threatening remarks—the way Jenna had—frustrated Livvy. Made her
furious!
Jenna should be taking Livvy’s side against Diane. Wasn’t that how best friends were supposed to treat each other?
She dreaded going to school. Even thought of skipping today, just this once. She could stay here at the rink and practice off and on all day long.
It was a super idea while it lasted. But she knew her father would be horrified. And knowing her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Smith would probably slap an enormous essay on top of all of Livvy’s other homework!
No, it wouldn’t be worth it. She’d have to face Jenna and deal with things as they were. As for Diane Larson, well . . . she couldn’t even begin to think about
her!
Gritting her teeth, Livvy was determined to turn her angry energy into something positive. She took a deep breath and, without music, skated through her entire short program.
She was careful to make every jump, including the
triple toe loop. Then came the double Salchow. There were several preparations for the jump, and up until two days ago, Livvy worried that she wasn’t ready. But she did her clockwise back crossovers and moved onto her takeoff leg.
Into the air she flew, landing gracefully on the back outside edge of her skate blade—only a quarter-inch wide.
“Yes!” she shouted, arms high overhead. Her constant, everyday practice—on her own—had paid off.
The other skaters were clapping. So was their coach.
Livvy happened to look above the rink, to the bench beneath the tree. There was the old man, standing and clapping, too.
Bowing, she imagined that he was a well-known European judge at an international competition. She thought he wore a smile just for her, so she offered a second bow. Just for him.
“Hey, you’re
good
!” one of the girls said.
“Thanks,” Livvy said, catching her breath.
Soon, she was surrounded by all five of the skaters. Their coach, too. “Do you train around here?” the coach asked, her blue eyes dancing.
Livvy explained that she’d come from Illinois. “My name is Olivia Hudson. But everyone calls me Livvy.”
“Nice to meet you, Livvy. I’m Natalie Johnston. Have you found a new coach yet?”
“Not yet.” She felt uncomfortable explaining why.
“Well, if I were qualified to teach advanced skaters, I’d certainly love to work with you.”
“Thanks,” Livvy replied.
They talked awhile longer, and Livvy was surprised to learn that Natalie was also a ballet instructor. “I have a large practice studio in my house,” Natalie explained. “On Main Street.”
“That’s my street, too,” Livvy said. “320 Main.”
Natalie raised her eyebrows. “So you must be the folks who bought the gray Victorian.” She could easily have said, “The run-down piece of junk in the middle of the block,” but Natalie was kind.
“It was my dad’s idea to fix up the house. He’s an artist.”
Natalie grinned. “So . . . you’re my neighbor. Just two houses down.”
Livvy was delighted. She couldn’t wait to tell her dad the news. She could attend ballet classes on weekends and never have to ask for a ride.
Suddenly, she was thirsty and had forgotten to bring her sports bottle along. Slipping the rubber protectors over her blades, she headed for the water fountain near the rest rooms.
Coming back, she stopped near the wooden bench to talk to the old man. Before she could speak, he stood up to greet her.
“My compliments to you, missy. You’re in excellent form today.”
“Thank you, uh, Mr. . . . sir.” She noticed the twinkle in his gray-blue eyes, wondering if it was polite to ask his name.
“Please, excuse my bad manners,” he said, extending his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Odell Sterling. Most folks call me Sterling. It’s shorter, you see. People are in a hurry these days.”
She shook his hand politely. “I’ll call you
Mister
Sterling, then, if that’s all right.”
He nodded. “And I suppose your name is Her Grace, for you are certainly light-footed and graceful on the ice.”
“Thank you.” She laughed a little. “That’s one compliment I’ve never received.” She went on to tell him her name but didn’t bother with her
real
nickname. Because she secretly liked Her Grace better.
He picked up his pen and note pad. For a moment, he studied something on the paper. “I watched your setup for each of your jumps, Olivia,” he said at last.
“You did?” She felt self-conscious.
“Perhaps you might achieve more control by gaining increased speed . . . before you go into your backward jumps.”
Elena had drummed the same thing into her, over and over. And she told him so. “My coach back home was always reminding me of that.”
She observed the man, this Mr. Sterling. He had to be way past fifty years old, maybe closer to sixty. She couldn’t tell for sure. His hair was mostly brown, very little gray. But it was the ruddy face, populated by wrinkles, that made her guess he was older than even Grandma Hudson.
“How do you know so much about skating?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bench.
He waved his hand as if batting a fly. “Oh, I suppose I’ve watched my share of skating events, like most anybody,” he replied. “A person can pick up an awful lot from those slick-talking announcers, you know.”
She told him she’d enjoyed watching televised sports events, too, as a young girl. “So it sounds like we have something in common,” she said, getting up.
“You’re the girl with talent,” he agreed. “And I just appreciate what I see.”
“Do you live in Podunk . . . er, Alpine Lake?” she asked.
He’d caught what she’d said. Chortling, he repeated it. “Podunk’s quieter than most places I’ve lived. But I like it here . . . in Podunk.” There was a mischievous look in his eyes.
“I guess I oughta say Alpine Lake.”
“Aw, go on and call it whatever you like,” he said, leaning back against the bench. “A place is only as good as its nickname.”
“Where else have you lived?”
“New York . . . that’s my home state.”
“Ever go to Lake Placid?” she asked.
“All the time.” A fleeting look of joy glimmered in his eyes. “The best years of my life.”
She was more curious than ever. “Did you get to meet any of the world’s best skaters?”
“Oh, a few.” But he stood up with a grunt, as if he was ready to leave.
“Well, I guess we could talk all day. Sorry to keep you, Mr. Sterling.”
He motioned toward the rink. “You have some more skating to do before school, Her Grace.”
“I sure do!” She beamed back at him, wondering if he’d be here waiting after school.
He called his “good-byes,” and she did the same.
Then she bent down to tighten the laces on her right skate. That’s when she noticed the note pad. He must’ve dropped it. Reaching under the bench, she retrieved it. She saw his name written on the outside but didn’t allow herself to peek inside.
When she looked up, she saw the man walking toward the food court. She would’ve run after him but couldn’t risk ruining her best skates.
So she slipped the note pad into her bag and decided to return it the next time she saw him. Probably this afternoon.
Preparing to leave the rink and head for home, she thought about the old man’s nickname for her. “Her Grace,” she said aloud.
She twirled around, her skate bag flying as she made her way to the mall entrance. All the way home she thought about Odell Sterling, wondering why his name sounded so familiar.
Dreams on Ice
Chapter Sixteen
Livvy managed to avoid seeing Jenna before school. She even waited till her locker partner was finished getting her books and things out before heading down the hall.
When both Jenna and Diane were safely heading off to homeroom, Livvy dashed out from behind one of the classroom doors.
Just then the first bell rang.
She had to hurry—Mrs. Smith would be waiting. In more ways than one!
Her fingers fumbled the combination lock, but she managed to open the locker and stash away her skate bag. She grabbed up her math and English books and slammed the door shut.
“Whoa, are you in a rush or what?” Suzy asked, running toward her.
“Run for your life.”
“What’s the hurry? We’re having an assembly first thing.”
“I still can’t be late for homeroom . . . bye!” Livvy ran to Room 123.
The tardy bell rang. Louder than usual.
She zipped past the doorway. And Mrs. Smith glanced up from her desk just as Livvy slid into her seat. She felt like a baseball player stealing home.
“Miss Hudson” came the disappointing words.
She knew to slump in her seat would be a big mistake. So she sat as straight and tall as possible. “Yes, Mrs. Smith.”
“You’re tardy.”
“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
Livvy felt her muscles tense up. Not a good thing for a skater on her way to fame and glory. A terrible thing, actually.
Here it comes
. She braced herself for the worst possible writing assignment in all of Podunk.
“Miss Hudson, you will write . . .” The teacher paused.
Livvy realized she was holding her breath. When she inhaled, she began to blink her eyes. Fast.
“Are you all right?” Mrs. Smith asked.
“I . . . I think so.”
“Very well. I’ll expect to see your written assignment
on my desk first thing—well before the last bell—tomorrow. Write a 300-word letter, Olivia. Write it to a student here at Alpine Lake Middle School.”
A letter?
She was super at letters. She’d write one to her old pen pal. This was too good to be true!
She pulled out some paper to take notes.
“In the letter, I want you to describe the meaning of tardy. Why it’s important to be on time for school . . . and for life.”
Livvy began to take notes. While Mrs. Smith was still talking, Livvy jotted down the guidelines for the assignment.
“Excuse me, Olivia.”
She looked up. “Yes?”
“Please, you must
never
write when I’m talking.”
Livvy gasped.
The pet peeve!
How could she have forgotten?
Instantly, she put her pen down. But she knew by the teacher’s stern face she’d committed an unforgivable flub.
“Make that two letters, to two different students. One, explaining the importance of being prompt. The second, describing the significance of following rules in general.”
Mrs. Smith was ticked off. No question.
Livvy didn’t know whether to apologize or to keep
her mouth shut. In the end, she wished she’d stayed at the rink. But who knows what sort of letter
that
misdeed would have required.
She was in hot water, and she knew it. Now . . . how to keep from drowning! With the homework assignments of the day yet to be given, and the after-school practice session at the rink, Livvy wondered how she would pull off two acceptable letters. And to students!
Mrs. Smith continued. “I expect to receive these written assignments directly. In other words, bring your letters to me.”
If she hadn’t been so angry at Jenna, Livvy might’ve weathered the blow. But lunch period turned out to be another disaster. “One after another,” she said to herself, gazing across the cafeteria.
She could see Jenna and Diane sitting together, laughing and talking. And she could hardly stand to watch. Too many glances toward her best friend and her worst enemy wouldn’t do. So she made herself look only at her brown lunch bag.
“What’re you doing way over here?” Suzy asked, sneaking up.
“None of your business,” she snapped. “Go sit with your locker partner.”
“If you say so.” Suzy must’ve spotted where Diane was sitting. “Okay, I see her. Bye!”
Once again, Livvy was alone.
She dug around in her book bag and found the small note pad belonging to Odell Sterling. Fighting nosiness, she tried to imagine what might be written inside. She had no right to read someone’s private writings. So she placed it on the table, while she had several more bites of her chicken and tomato sandwich.