Read Breaking the Ice for Free Online

again.
    She’s doing the exact same jumps, right after I land them. I do an axel, she does an axel. I squeak out the landing of a double flip–double toe loop combination—two jumps, oneright after the other—and she does the same thing perfectly.
    The little hairs on my arms rise. It feels like she’s following me, copying me. As if we’re in a competition and she’s trying to show judges—or maybe just me—that she can do everything better.
    I don’t have anything to prove to her. I know I’m a good skater, never mind what the last judges thought. I push across the rink and move on to spins. I lower myself into a back sit spin, rotating on my right leg with my left leg extended in front and my rear end just inches from the ice. Addison does the exact same thing. I’m spinning so fast that everything’s a little blurry, but it looks like she just twisted her body into a pretzel-like position I’ve never seen before.
    How did she do that? I whip my head around so I can see her again, forgetting that it will slow my spin. I lose the careful balance on my blade and it shoots out from underneath me, leaving me spinning on my behind.
    Addison pulls up from her twisted sitting position and finishes with a fast upright spin. She glides over to me and smirks. “Nice butt spin.”
    I open my mouth to say something back, but then I shut it. It’s only my second day here. I can’t be rude to people, even if they’re rude to me. I search for something nice to say.
    â€œThanks. I’ve been working on it,” is all I can come up with. It sounds like one of Dad’s jokes.
    She doesn’t laugh. Instead she squats next to me. Her hairline shows brown roots, and I try not to stare at it. Her mom lets her dye her hair? Mine won’t even let me wear makeup unless I’m performing.
    She narrows her brown eyes. “Your double toe was under-rotated. You don’t turn fast enough after you take off. That’s why you could barely land it.”
    My face burns. Who does this girl think she is? A coach? I scramble to get up from the ice. She rises gracefully and looks me in the eye.
    â€œYou won’t ever get past Juvenile with an under-rotated double toe.”
    I clench my gloved hands into fists at my sides. How does she even know what level I’m on? I don’t remember seeing her at competitions. I wish she would just go away.
    And she does. With one last smirk, she turns and pushes off across the rink. I glance around, sure I have an audience. But, just as before, everyone is busy with their own practices.
    Greg calls my name. I force myself to take a couple of deep breaths as I move my feet to start my lesson.
    I show Greg my arsenal of jumps and spins. I try a few triple salchows and fall on each one.
    He reaches out a hand to help me up after the third one. “That’s a good start. This is a jump you have to master, though, if you want to move on. Triple sal was the minimum required jump to be cast in the Skating Sensation.”
    Since the Skating Sensation doesn’t even exist anymore, I don’t think I’ll be trying out for it anytime soon. “I’ve only been working on it for a couple of months,” I say.
    â€œYou don’t need it until next year, so you’ve got time. Did you bring your music? I want to see your program.”
    I grab my CD and give it to the ice monitor. As I glide toward center ice, my throat goes dry. I want Greg to see me as the girl who could win Regionals, the one who’s got Olympic potential. Not the girl who almost placed last at Praterville. Mom’s always saying first impressions are the most important, and I want Greg to have the right first impression of me. Skating my full ­program—perfectly—is a chance to show him what I’ve got.
    I arch my arms over my head and lean slightly to the right. Addison’s watching me even as she runs through