Cinderella in Skates

chapter THREE





"How was the game last night?"

Dad's sitting at the island in our kitchen when I walk downstairs the next morning in my pajamas, desperate to find a glass of orange juice and some eggs.

"It was fun," I say, shuffling over to the fridge. "Not really a game, but it wasn't bad."

Dad beams. "I knew you'd finally get into the beautiful sport."

I pour myself a glass of juice. "I don't know if I'd say I'm into it, exactly, but it was better than sitting around at home all night. I just don't think I'd want to spend every day watching hockey or anything."

"Oh, but you will," he says. "Because I have a bit of a proposition for you."

I raise my eyebrows as I take of sip of the orange-y goodness. "Go on."

"Your mother and I know you want to go back to Arizona as soon as you finish high school," he says. "And we've already agreed you can apply to college there. But if you want to spend the summer back in Phoenix, we'll allow you to move in with your grandparents in June."

My eyes light up. It's a battle I've been trying to win since Dad first announced we were picking up and shuttling to Wisconsin, and they hadn't given me a straight answer for months. But if I know I can move back to Arizona in just eight short months, I won't have any trouble getting through every day here.

"Okay! Thank you!" I squeal, running over to throw my arms around him.

But before I can get there, he holds up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.

"Just a second," he says. "That's not the bargain. I haven't told you what we expect from you if you want to do this. We'll hold up our end of the deal if you hold up yours."

I take a deep breath, but it doesn't matter what he's going to say. I know I'll do whatever it takes. Straight A's, planting a vegetable garden, writing a book, unpacking the moving van myself. I don't care. I'm going back to Arizona in June, and that's the end of that.

"We want you to do something here that you can't do back in Phoenix," he goes on, then he pauses. "Well, you can but not at your old high school, anyway." Dad takes a deep breath as my impatience grows, then he smiles widely at me. "We want you to make your new school's hockey team!"

I slowly place the glass of orange juice on the counter.

What did he just say?

"What did you just say?"

"Yep," he replies. "Make the team and you can go back to Arizona. Try something new. Make the best of your time here. For your old man, but also for yourself."

"Dad, I--I can't even ice skate."

He waves his hand. "Sure you can. Your mother and I used to take you all the time. You were a natural. You'll be great at hockey."

"I don't know the first thing about playing."

He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's where I'm one step ahead of you, kiddo. I've got someone who's agreed to teach you how to play. It'll be great! We think it'll make your transition here go much smoother."

I narrow my eyes. "Who?"

"Shane. Joe Stanford's son. He agreed to teach you the basics. He's very good at hockey, you know."

Oh, I know.

But Shane?

As a coach? As my coach?

I don't know what to think.

"He said he would do it?"

Dad nods. "Yep. Well, Joe said he'd do it, and Joe shot me a message that he asked Shane, and now Shane's very excited about it."

Excited, huh?

Hmm.

"What am I supposed to learn?"

"I spoke to the coach at your new school."

Of course he did.

"She says they're a bit thin at the goalie position," Dad says. "She thinks that'd be your best bet for cracking her roster."

"And if I don't make the team, then what? I just can't go back to Phoenix? I have to stay here? Even if I try?"

"Yep. You won't go back until your semester starts in the fall then, if that's where you end up."

"They probably have a lot of players who are good, though."

"Yeah, they probably do. We're not asking you to earn playing time, Natbat," he says. "Just crack the roster."

"Dad, this is crazy."

He shrugs. "Maybe, but it's what we're going to do. Isn't it better than not going back at all?"

"What if I don't want to?"

"That's your choice. You don't have to do it. But then you'll spend the summer in Madison with us. It's that simple."

I sigh. I really, really don't want to do that. I need Phoenix back in my life.

And...well, if my parents aren't saying no, then why shouldn't I at least try to make it happen? Plus, if they see that I stick with it and try really hard, and even if I don't make the team, maybe I can still convince them to let me go home anyway.

It's a shot I have to take.

I look up at Dad.

"When do I start?"





      ***





Shane and his dad appear at our front door minutes after the moving truck pulls up in front of our house.

"Told you we want to help," Joe Stanford says over my mother's protests that it's really not necessary.

I can't help but smile when I see Shane, though, and I hope Mom zips it before they take her seriously and go home.

The movers pretty much have the furniture part covered but once they've put all of mine in my room, I'm ready to start painting the walls.

"Shane," Mom says. "Why don't you help Natalie paint? She's never done it before and I'm afraid it will turn into a disaster."

Shane grins and I try to hide my smile even though she makes me sound like an idiot. Mom's immediately forgiven for trying to drive them away earlier.

"Sounds good," he says, looking over at me. "I'm a master painter. Lead the way."

He follows me up two flights of stairs to my third-story bedroom. All of the furniture is smushed together in the middle of the floor and Dad had put the drop cloths in place earlier.

"What color?" he asks, rolling up the sleeves of his old, paint-splattered shirt to reveal strong forearms.

"Orange."

He raises his eyebrows. "Orange?"

"It's more of a burnt orange," I reply. "Kind of like the desert. You'll see. It's nice."

"I'm sure it is."

He helps me pour the paint and get on the ladder to reach the corner of the room.

"You know what to do?" he asks.

"It's painting," I tell him. "How hard it can be?"

He shrugs. "Your mom seems to think you're gonna struggle."

"I got this."

"Okay," he says. "I'll start on the other side then."

We paint in silence until I realize my brush needs more color and I climb down the ladder. My foot slips on one of the bottom rungs and I tumble to the ground.

"Oof," I mutter.

The paintbrush lands on my face and I'm just thankful it wasn't sopping with color.

Shane's by my side in seconds. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, pushing myself up to a sitting position. "No big deal."

He's looking at me with a funny smile on his face.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies in a voice that I immediately don't trust. "Nothing at all."

"What?" I repeat.

He just shakes his head, grins and goes back over to the wall he'd been working on before my fall.

I narrow my eyes and walk straight into the bathroom to check the mirror. I'm horrified when I see bright orange streaks covering my face and hair. That's going to be impossible to rinse out later.

I march back into my bedroom where Shane has his back to me. I load up my paintbrush with a gob of orange and walk right over to him.

I don't say anything as I wipe the brush across his back.

He stops moving, his shoulders rise and fall like he's taking a deep breath, and as he slowly turns around, I take a step back.

"Did you just do what I think you just did?" he asks me in a low voice that sounds more like a growl.

I raise my palms to the ceiling and shrug innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He grabs at his shirt and looks over his shoulder. "That wasn't there before."

We stare at each other for a few seconds before he lunges for me and I shriek and run away, but there are only so many places to hide and so many pieces of furniture to use to dodge him before he catches me and wraps me up in a giant bear hug from behind, lifting my feet off the ground.

"Gotcha," he whispers in my ear.

We're both laughing when he sets me down.

"Truce?" he asks.

I wipe the extra paint on my fingertips across his forehead. "Okay," I say, and he shakes his head and smiles. "Truce."

We both go back to painting and work in silence until we meet in the middle of the wall and take a step back to admire our work.

"I like it," he says. "Even if it is orange."

"Are you hungry? I think my parents were going to order pizza. It should be downstairs."

"Sure," he says. "Sounds great."

We set aside our paint brushes and head downstairs where my parents are sitting around the kitchen table with Shane's dad.

"Dig in," Mom says. She does a double take when she sees us. "What happened to you two?"

"Natalie's a klutz," Shane says immediately and I glare at him, mock outrage on my face.

"Shane just got what he deserves."

Our parents all exchange looks before shrugging, and Shane and I walk over to the counter to grab some pizza.

I happen to glance up at him and he's watching me. He winks once and smiles before pulling out a seat at the kitchen table.

I stand at the counter by myself for a minute, the grin on my face out of control.

Wisconsin isn't half-bad so far.





      ***



The next morning, Monday, is my first day at my new high school. There's a bus that goes between our neighborhood and the school, but I'm not about to hop on my very first day.

Dad drops me off in front of the building just before eight o'clock, and I step gingerly out of the car as if my feet don't want to hit the sidewalk and make this part of the move real.

I'm starting here just a couple of months after the year began, and jumping into a senior class where everyone already knows each other isn't exactly my dream social scenario.

It's not even like I've got Shane to show me around. He's back on the University of Wisconsin's campus where, according to Dad, he apparently lives most of the time. He was only in our neighborhood this weekend because his father needed help with some home improvement project.

Fantastic.

But at least he and I'll be meeting after I'm done with school today to figure out the whole hockey thing. Tryouts are only a month or so away, and I don't have much time to figure out...well, all of it.

Doubly fantastic.

I walk through the main entrance surrounded by people who see right through me. I'm nobody to them, but maybe that isn't such a bad thing. At least in a school this big, I won't stick out like a sore thumb wandering the halls. For all they know, I'm just another face who's been here all along.

I walk through the school, a sign pointing me in the direction of the main office where a secretary checks me in and hands me my schedule with a warm welcome and smile.

"Up the stairs, go down the hall, make two lefts and you'll be in your first period classroom," she says, glancing down at the piece of paper in her hand. "History. Good luck, Natalie."

I nod, thank her and then I'm off.

Here we go.

No big deal or anything.

The halls are still flush with people and I just pray that I won't walk into class late. I promise myself I'll even ask someone for directions if I have to.

But finding the classroom is surprisingly easy and I slip through the door and take a seat in the middle of the room.

I glance around. Only three other people are here, but none of them bother to look at me. I sigh, and dig out the history textbook I was told to buy before I came to class.

On the bright side, since I'm pretty sure I'm going to have no friends, I figure my grades should be pretty excellent for the first time in, well, ever. Not that they were bad before. It's just, well, it's kind of hard to study when it's seventy degrees and sunny in the dead of winter.

My class here in Wisconsin is all about American history. Back in Arizona, we'd done this my sophomore year and I was supposed to study Europe now. I sigh, flipping through the book full of familiar terms and faces. It would've been nice to learn something new.

"You look bored."

I glance up into the face of a pretty blonde girl.

"What?"

She smiles. "With the reading," she says. "You don't look like you like them much. Not that I blame you or anything. It's kind of dull."

I look down at the text. "Oh, yeah. Well, I took American history back home so I was kinda hoping for something different."

"You know all this stuff?" She drops into the empty seat next to me. "In that case, hi, I'm Ivy."

I smile at her. "Natalie. And I learned it a couple years ago."

"Then that makes you my new best friend." She grins. "I'm mostly kidding. So, you're new."

"Yep."

"Where'd you move from?"

"Arizona."

Her eyes widen slightly. "Arizona? And you came here? Doesn't it usually work the other way around?"

I know she's trying to be funny and I'm in no position to turn down a friendly face so I should laugh, but her comment really only makes my stomach tighten.

"Probably." I force a smile onto my face but I'm pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace. "But my dad changed jobs so here I am."

"You'll like it," Ivy says. "Fall is pretty here."

"But different."

She nods. "Yeah. And you'll get used to the cold. I've only lived here for a couple years now but it's kind of nice to have a real winter."

"I hope you're right."

"Did you leave a boyfriend back home or something?"

"Oh." I'm sure my cheeks flush. "Nope. No, I'm single."

She smiles at me. "Honey, welcome to the club."

Our teacher walks into the classroom then and Ivy turns in her seat to face him, and I can't help but sit back in my chair, a sense of relief flooding me, a fear that I've had since my parents told me we were moving disappearing.

At least I won't be a total loner at school.