The way that one word came out, it was like they weren’t talking about ice skating at all. Lauren wished she could apologize for what had happened in his room, but she didn’t quite know what she would be apologizing for. For going in there and trying to seduce him in the first place? Because that was totally what she’d been doing, as terrible at it as she’d been. Or for freaking out afterward?
She’d tossed and turned all week, trying to make sense of the way she was feeling. All she knew was that somehow Asa had gone from someone she found vaguely irritating to the person she most looked forward to seeing. And then he went and did nice things like this, skating at a snail’s pace with her, and it got her all confused and messed up inside.
Somehow they managed to catch up to Eddie—Lauren suspected he’d stopped to wait for them. “You really do learn fast,” she said. “What’s the secret?”
“You gotta do your skates like this,” Eddie said, demonstrating slicing each of his skates out to the side, one and then the other, in a choppy motion that was nonetheless much better than any of her attempts. She’d seen ice skating before. Just for some reason, when she tried to mimic the movements, she got only a few inches on her own before she felt like she’d fall again.
“Maybe I should sit on the sidelines and watch,” she said. “I’m slowing you down.”
Asa raised his eyebrows at Eddie. “She doesn’t like to do something unless she’s good at it.”
“What? That’s not true.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie said. “I get it. When I missed my no-scope headshot today, I threw the controller. That’s why I was bad.”
It occurred to Lauren that this conversation, ever since they’d started skating, was the longest she’d heard Eddie ever speak. She didn’t know if it was having something to do to distract him, or if it was Asa’s neutral presence, but she was grateful for it.
“Well, it sounds like you made a bad choice,” Lauren said, deciding to table any shock she felt over the violent description from the game itself. “Not that you were bad.”
Eddie shrugged. “Same thing. I can’t play video games for a week.”
“That’s a consequence,” Lauren said. “If you’d broken the controller, think how much longer it might’ve been.”
“Yeah, but—” Eddie clenched his little hands into fists, and for a minute she saw the storm overtake his face, like he could revisit his rage right here in the middle of the ice rink. Before she could think about what she was doing, she let go of Asa and gave Eddie’s shoulder a quick, fierce squeeze.
“I know you’re angry,” she said, getting low not just to keep her balance, but also to better look Eddie in the eyes. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to be sad. You’re allowed to not even know what you feel. I was in foster care, too, you know, when I was your age. And I was fortunate, in so many ways. But it didn’t stop me from feeling all the feelings.”
She thought she’d gone too far, pushed too hard. She hadn’t intended on getting into a conversation like this. The outing to Cold World was supposed to be fun, a little lighthearted romp before Christmas, but now here she was giving lectures. She braced herself against the wall, planning to stand back up, when Eddie’s voice came so low she had to bend down again to hear him.
“What did you do with all of them?” he asked. “The feelings.”
The most honest answer was that she’d pretended they didn’t exist. She’d shoved them down, focused on being as good as she possibly could. She’d done her homework, helped around the house, kept to herself. And every once in a while, she’d taken a long, hot shower, staying in until Miss Bianca pounded on the door and yelled that she was wasting water, so she could have a place to cry.
For some reason, it was Asa she looked to, like he might have the answer. He was frowning down at her, his hands in his pockets, his gray eyes steady when they met hers. “I draw,” he said finally, when the silence had stretched for longer than was comfortable. “When I need an outlet for my feelings, I draw.”
“I used to cry in the shower, so no one would see,” Lauren said. “Sometimes I still do. Sometimes I sing instead, as loud as I can, the goofiest or happiest songs I can think of. Sometimes it just helps to have someone to talk to.”
From what Lauren could remember of Eddie’s file, he had a referral to a local counseling agency but hadn’t yet started any therapy services. He’d probably say he didn’t need them. That was what Lauren had said, after having a couple sessions with a woman she could barely remember, who’d made her role-play fake conversations with her mother on an unplugged telephone. She made a mental note to bring it up with the caseworker, see what other support systems could be built around this kid.
“I bet I can get to the other wall before you,” Eddie said, already gearing up in a competitor’s stance, waiting for a starting gun.
Lauren gave him a wry smile. “Asa wasn’t wrong,” she said. “I don’t like to take bets I know I’ll lose.”
“Ready,” Eddie said, as if he hadn’t heard her, “set . . . go!”
And he was off, looking a little wobbly, reaching out for the wall once but otherwise skating away on his own two feet. Lauren gave a little laugh, watching him. “No way I could even come close.”
“Technically he never said you had to do it alone,” Asa said, coming behind her to grasp the sides of her waist. His hands were firm, his proximity instantly warming her body by at least ten degrees. “What do you say?”
She had the sudden urge to just lean back against him, let him take all her weight. “I’m not going to beat a child.”
“We gotta give him some competition, though. How else is he supposed to feel the sweet rush of victory?”
“I guess,” Lauren said, “if you—”
But Asa had already started skating, building up speed as he pushed her ahead. She gave a gurgle of shocked laughter, her hands flying to cover his at her waist, exhilarated by the feeling of the air stinging her face even as she was nervous that he’d let go and she’d fall. But his grip stayed strong and sure, and he got her to the wall only a split second after Eddie had already touched.
“I win!” he said. “And hey, that’s cheating.”
Asa had braced himself against the wall, his hands moving from her waist to grasp the boards so that he wouldn’t slam into her body as the momentum carried them forward. But still she felt the whole length of him against her, and it made her shiver even as she felt the color rising in her cheeks. What do you want? That was what he’d asked her that night in his room, and she was starting to see how wrong her answer had been, when what she should’ve just said was you.
His gaze was searching her face now, as though looking for any sign that the ride had frightened her, or upset her. But all she felt was a bubbly, giddy feeling that felt something like . . . happiness. She wanted to do it again.
“Not cheating,” Asa said now to Eddie. “Exploiting a loophole in the rules. Want to have a go?”
“I can skate by myself,” he said stubbornly.
“You should try it,” Lauren said. “It feels like flying.”
Asa held up his hands, palms out. “I’ll hold on to your shoulders. That okay? I promise I won’t let you get hurt.”
Eddie looked dubiously at Asa, but then he shrugged. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try.”
Over Eddie’s head, Asa shot a smile to Lauren that was so sweet she felt it somewhere deep in her stomach. He crouched down to grasp Eddie by the shoulders, starting up a little slower than he had with Lauren, then building up speed until they were sailing up the side of the rink. Lauren wished she could see Eddie’s face.
She tried to venture out on her own, shuffling her feet back and forth in tiny, timid movements. She had a feeling skating was one of those ubiquitous situations where confidence was key to success, and those had never come easily for her. But she managed to travel at least three feet before she had to grasp the wall for support, and another six before her skate slid too far back and she fell down to her knee.