She was actually impressed at how semiscientific her answers sounded, but Eddie didn’t let up. “How cold does it have to be for someone to die?”
Well, that was a morbid question. Lauren glanced helplessly at the door, then at her phone. Still no text. “I don’t know,” she said. “It would depend on a few factors . . .”
On the ice skating rink, people were laughing and gliding around in circles—happy couples, families with young children, several teenage friend groups. Asa was working the rink that night, and she could see him skating in slow, deliberate laps, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched everyone on the ice.
She missed him. She’d hated the way they’d left things. She also didn’t know what else there was to say.
“You’re sure you don’t want a hot chocolate?” Lauren asked Eddie.
“My mom will get me one,” he said. “She knows how many marshmallows to put in.”
“She’s probably stuck in traffic,” Lauren said. “This is a busy time of year.”
Eddie was staring at the ice rink, too, and for a second his sullen expression split into something else. Next to her, Lauren’s phone buzzed, and there was a text message from the caseworker: Mom can’t find a ride. We’ll have to reschedule.
Lauren started typing a response before giving up. If the caseworker were willing to drive Eddie’s mother there, she would’ve said so. Lauren wasn’t allowed to transport anyone, and she didn’t know enough about Orlando’s not-great public transportation system to be much help there.
One imperative Lauren had given herself before taking on this volunteer position was that she’d always be as honest as possible with Eddie. It had been one of the parts she’d struggled with the most when growing up in the foster care system—this idea that there was a big machine in charge of your care and sometimes you didn’t even know the most important details of your own life. It was tempting now to keep making excuses for his mother, to delay the point when she’d have to tell him that the woman wasn’t showing up. But she knew it would be better to get it over with.
“Eddie,” she said. “I’m really sorry, but it looks like your mom’s not going to make it tonight. She’s having trouble finding a ride.”
“We can go get her,” he said. “You have a car, right?”
Lauren shook her head. “I’m not allowed to do that. I’m sorry, Eddie.”
“This sucks,” Eddie said, slumping down in his seat. “This place sucks. You don’t even know any cool facts about cold stuff.”
Lauren couldn’t argue with him there. She hated this feeling of helplessness, of inadequacy. She’d advocated for Eddie to have more visits with his mother, and then his mother hadn’t shown up, leaving Lauren to wonder whether she’d done the right thing or just set up Eddie for more disappointment. She’d thought meeting up at Cold World would give them something fun to do together, but she couldn’t seem to find a way to make the outing enjoyable—from her lack of knowledge about how he liked his hot chocolate to her lack of knowledge about “cold stuff.” Eddie kept looking toward the ice skaters, but she couldn’t even offer to take him skating, because she’d never learned how.
Unless . . . Lauren stood up, holding out her hand to Eddie before dropping it again, figuring it was a babyish gesture he wouldn’t want any part of. “Let’s go see about ice skating,” she said. “Have you ever been?”
“No,” he said, still sullen even though he stood and seemed willing to follow her at least. “I went to a roller skating birthday party once. I was pretty good. My mom said I learned fast.”
“Well, I’m sure they’re the same,” Lauren said, not sure about that at all. “Come on, let’s try it out.”
She got Eddie outfitted with a pair of rental skates, and rented some for herself, too, even though she knew she’d end up clinging to the wall the whole time. Once she’d made sure Eddie’s were laced on tight, they walked gingerly together toward the entrance to the rink, trying to avoid getting jostled by the other, more confident skaters who pushed by to get onto the ice.
Asa was in the middle of one of his laps, but out of the corner of her eye she saw his blue hair as he broke away, glancing to see that the coast was clear before skating over to her and Eddie. “Hey,” he said.
There was so much weight to that one word, Lauren almost wished she could pause the moment and analyze every nook and cranny of it. Was he angry with her? Indifferent?
But there wasn’t time for that now, so Lauren gestured to Eddie at her side. “Asa, this is my friend Eddie,” she said. “He was hoping to ice skate, but I don’t really know how.”
“You don’t know anything,” Eddie said, but without any real bite.
Lauren pulled a face at Asa. “Last week I blanked and called Thor ‘the hammer guy,’ and this week I don’t know how cold it has to be to kill someone.”
“And they let you have a driver’s license?” Asa said, giving her a wink. “Give me a sec—I’ll get Saulo out here to take over so I can skate with you.”
“That’s not—” Lauren started to call after him, to let him know that wasn’t necessary. She hadn’t intended for him to focus his full attention on them, had only hoped that maybe he could give them a couple tips and keep his eyes open to make sure nothing happened to Eddie.
Apparently, Eddie wasn’t who she needed to worry about. He stepped out onto the ice with his skates and, although at first he was tentative and holding on to the wall, it was only a few moments before he was shuffling slowly in something that approximated ice skating. “I told you I could do it!”
Meanwhile, Lauren set one foot on the ice, and immediately her leg slid out from beneath her, landing her flat on her ass on the cold, wet surface.
Eddie turned his head but clearly had no idea how to change his current forward trajectory, drifting aimlessly away from her. “You okay, Miss Lauren?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Just my . . .”
A pair of skates came toward her so fast she flinched, but Asa came to an expert stop a foot away, sending little chips of ice flying into the air. He reached down a hand to pull her up, and she grasped his forearm, embarrassed when she had to cling to avoid falling again.
“Just your what?” Eddie prompted. “Your butt?”
“Ah, no,” Lauren said, although there was a dull ache in that region already. “My pride.”
“You got this,” Asa said. “Bend your knees a little. Stay low while you’re still starting out—it’ll help a lot with balance.”
“Like this?” Eddie crouched down slightly, gliding forward on the ice.
“Exactly,” Asa said. “This kid’s a ringer. Where’d you get him, a Russian hockey camp? His accent’s impeccable.”
“Miss Lauren is my guardian something,” Eddie said. “Not the one I live with. The one who’s supposed to help me get my mom back.”
“Well, that’s . . .” Lauren started, but Eddie was already shuffling farther ahead, and her voice trailed off. “. . . an oversimplification.” She gave Asa a rueful smile. “Sorry about this. You can let go.”
He lifted his hand from her elbow, and she instantly felt her arms start to windmill, her balance tilt. Asa reached for her again, keeping her so close she could feel his body heat. “I don’t know that you’re ready for the big leagues yet,” he said. “You sure you don’t want me to get you one of those skate helpers?”
So she could look like she was pushing a plastic high chair around the ice? No, thank you. “I know I dented my pride with that spill back there,” she said. “But I do still have some left.”
Asa cleared his throat. “Right.”