Intriguing cold

Chapter II: Intriguing Cold

August; Boston in Norwood, Massachusetts

Van kicked the pebble off. He didn't intend to scare the stray cat, but he was just too pissed and annoyed. What are those kids blabbing about anyway? Just because he is a boy, it would be inappropriate for him to learn ballet. Those were bullies who had narrow and fragile ideas of masculinity.

He has been taking his ballet classes seriously and he grows into it. It was the highlight of his week. He liked to watch himself gracefully executing an elegant spin, raising his legs in the air and a flick of his hand. It was all graceful and artistic, it was everything those dumb dudes never understood.

His ballet teacher told him not to mind them, that their likes were also the reasons why there were only a few people willing to enroll in ballet class. Some were enthusiastic the first day, but that was it. Either they'll try to come still for a week or quit for real. Van wants to give those guys a lesson, see if they have better other than their dumb mouths.

He left his bag in the studio, his teacher most likely kind enough to keep it safe for him. Right now, he wants to let off some steam, but nothing is better than punching their irritating faces to erase the scowl and smug smirk out of them.

"Hey! Gio!" before he could hear why the voice sounded familiar, Miles sauntered towards him in an instant. "What brings you here?"

Miles' smile was too big, he gave off the impression of a loud and obnoxious guy. Van wants to answer with sarcasm, but he doesn't want to be on bad terms with anyone.

"Just walking around, I guess," he murmured, finally absorbing where his pissed self brought him. "You? What are you doing here?"

Just now, he noticed a duffle bag hanging on his left shoulder. It looks heavy and full.

Miles pointed, he followed his finger. "There. I was in a hockey team. We had just ended practice but I took extra rink time to practice alone."

Van nodded, not really understanding nor interested in hockey. "I didn't know."

Instead of an offended gasp, Miles just laughed it off. "That's fine, not everyone is fond of hockey."

He nodded. They stay silent and Van swore it was awkward, just standing outside the rink with a stranger who knows your name and probably more, but you just know his name and nothing else. Van wants to leap and run, he wants to continue sulking. Somewhere, no one could disturb him.

"If you want, you can rent the rink for hours. It's not only for hockey, most of the time this rink is used in figure skating competitions."

"Huh?"

"I mean, don't be offended. You look like you want to beat someone up."

He sighed. "Just having both a rough and bad day."

"I can tell." Miles hummed. "So, why don't you try skating? Or whatever you need. It's best to keep your mind off somewhere to relax. It's effective, I'm telling you."

He wanted to ask why he suggested skating instead of hockey but he shut himself down, before asking. It would end in two ways he could foresee and neither would be good.

"Uhm, is it possible? How much? I don't have skates." he asked, cautiously.

"You can get a discount. Ask Everly, she's nice, I promise. Tell her it's your first time and she will let you," he said. "I'm leaving. Just go in, no one's there now if you want quiet time."

Left dumbfounded, Van looked at the building then back to the path where Miles disappeared. He has mixed feelings about following his advice, but it is quite tempting. If he goes back to the studio, he might strangle those guys for real and he does not want a criminal record at his age. Aside from the park near the studio, and the rooftop of their school, there's nowhere quiet to relax.

He searched for his wallet to see how much cash he had bought and was relieved to find $200 squeezed inside. It surely wouldn't be that kind of expensive, right? But Miles mentioned this was used in competition. What if they priced more than what he could afford? Could he think he could walk out and never come back?

He pushed the glass door and the AC hit him quickly. Outside was chilly, it was freezing. He tightened the cardigan around him and followed his instinct. He just needs to look for a nice lady with the name of Everly and tell her this is his first time skating— or he can tell her why he is in need of space for good measure and she might even let him try to skate for free—

"Oh hi!" like a reindeer caught in red light, he winced and stiffly looked back at the woman behind the desk. "Are you here to skate?"

Awkwardly, he sauntered towards her. Still holding his wallet in, "Uhm.."

"Hm? Are you okay?"

He tried so hard not to squeak, or try to catch hiccups when agitated. "Uhm, is it okay to.. skate?"

To his surprise, she cheered enthusiastically. "Of course! Do you have skates or are you renting?"

He could feel blood leaving his knuckles as he gripped tightly his cardigan. "Yes? I mean, if it's okay, this is— it's my first time here so.." he uttered.

"Oh.." she mused and Van could feel her eyes boring a hole, boring his face. She is indeed nice but with an intense look. "Let me guide you then! Follow me..?"

He blinked, then blinked. "Ah! Van. I'm Van."

"Follow me Van!" she motioned for him to move and so he did. His mind felt like floating. "I haven't seen you before, did you just transfer here?"

Van nodded quickly. "Yes."

"That makes sense because if I'd seen you at least once, I would remember you immediately. You have pretty hair."

He tried not to blush but his cheeks did it anyway as he squeaked a silent thank you which she laughed off. They reach the shelves and his eyes widen to see a lot of skates in different sizes.

"Here. You can sit on the bench while I look for your shoe size. Tell me." she demanded, and began looking in the middle. She grabbed one and kneeled on the floor, chuckled when he told her to get up. "It's fine. Here, I'll do it for you. Since it's your first time."

He watches in awe when his feet fit perfectly inside. There were no unnecessary spaces that would cause uncomfortable steps, not that he would be comfortable that fast anyway. He just stared while Everly tied his skates and asked if it was too tight or loose.

"It shouldn't be too loose or tight." she got up. "Put on the skate guards, do you think you can stand?"

He gulped. With a skate guard, he's not directly standing up on a thin blade that could probably cut his arms if he tries hard. He held onto a bench to test the water. It was shaky. His legs wobbled.

"Slowly, Van. Here, you can hold onto me while we walk towards the ice." she extended her arm and he gladly took it in a shaky breath. "It's really your first time."

"Yeah.. I mean, besides ballet, I never do sports or if I did, it was for grades." Everly giggled.

"That explains your posture. You started doing ballet when you were a kid, I suppose. I don't see that minimal movement from hockey players, I usually spy on figure skaters. And you," she pointed at him. ".. you clearly have the look of one."

Van smile grateful. He does not understand fully nor understand, but it feels like a compliment, so he accepts it.

They reach the side of the rink and, for the first time, he sees the crystal-like surface. It looks magical, the light above gives an illusion of a sparkly floor that shreds once you run in them roughly, it's cold but a good kind of cold. It was the first time but it is enchanting already.

"I see.." Everly murmured at his side, watching him attentively.

He whipped his head to the side, slightly embarrassed. "Uh–"

"We are open everyday, from 6AM to 10PM. Everyone can rent the rink unless there are no competitions being held or planned to take place here. Coaches also like to rent the rink for their teams," she explained. "If you are not aware, the first Grand Prix was held here in Boston, the Skate America."

He nodded.

"I've seen professional athletes rent this rink for themselves, and if I am lucky, they would let me watch or assist them." Every day, pushing him gently on the side, his skates finally touch the once Polish ice. "I hope I can see someone bloom here too."

Van gasped. It is an extremely strange feeling, the fear is there, it is at the back of his mind. Slipping, gliding non stop, the thought of not holding on to anything while he skates is terribly terrifying, yet, it is thrilling. Like when he first danced in front of his ballet teacher, the first time he learned how to properly do the 540 jump. It is frightening but also exhilirating.

"You can skate to your heart's content. I'll bring the zamboni out later so don't worry about messing with this.." she pointed at the shining floor. "Holler if you need help!" Then she disappeared.

Van blinked from the floor to the rink's entrance, a cold breeze past to realize he was alone. And he does not have the slightest idea how to skate.

He felt the need to do the holler now.

Slipping a little, he held onto the rink side. Gripping it tightly. Who would leave a kid in the rink by himself? Everly, Everly would.

He faced the empty space, he got this cool and risky place for himself. He glanced down at his feet, still planted in one spot. The ice was melting from the blades. Locks of his hair fell from behind his ears to his shoulder, his scrunchy was left in the bag and so he needed to suffer from hair choking for now.

He took an initiative step, breathing deeply and letting go temporarily, but standing still within his reach. He wondered how long it would be before he could improve.

                                       ...

"Where are you ought to be? You don't have ballet classes," his mother prodded. She saw her son tying his shoelaces at the door.

"I'm going to the rink!" he announced proudly and stood up after finishing his shoelace, just like he wanted and giving his mother a quick kiss. "I'll be at the rink until dinner Mom! Don't worry about me!"

If his mother had protested, he wouldn't have been able to hear her on the way out. He is so excited. Everly texted him this morning. The message set his mood for the whole day; thrill, excitement and nervousness. There would be a session at the Skating Club of Boston and she asked if he was willing to come. There will be other novices like him and what makes him excited is the presence of a coach. Meaning he would be under his tutelage for a while and that sent a thrill towards his spine.

When Everly sends another text, it says that his skates were prepared earlier, before he came. Since he doesn't have personal skates and it is expensive, he resorts to rentals. He saved most of his allowance for renting, and every day gave him discounts every now and then. But he also likes to have his own skate, where he can even try it in a frozen river.

Van arrived at the rink with a grin. She's already there, handling his skates.

"He is Coach Schmidt. He coaches junior skaters in summer" Everly whispered. "I was informed of a Summer Camp and summer, I don't know how it'll work for you, but you might be included."

"A Summer Camp?"

"Hm. I heard he rarely takes a foreign skater. If he does, then maybe they are exceptional," she added. "Go and stretch on the side, try to relax your muscles more."

It is not a competition nor a local ice show, but the thought of a professional criticizing his every move sounds challenging. He had experienced harsh critiques in ballet, from his novice days till he could perform and hold a role in theater.

He ignored the whispers around the other young skaters in the rink, mostly males either relaxed or trying to spin a little.

Everly watching him from her side, her eyes are impossibly sparkling right now. She sends an encouraging smile every time their eyes meet and it is soothingly good. Like he has a friend watching after him. It was then her smile faltered and her eyes widened. She was not looking at him but behind his back.

Van almost stumbled when the said Coach Schmidt stood in front of him with the rink as a barrier in between. His own eyes threatened to bulge, his heart hammering for nothing. Coach Schmidt was silent for a while, he was just there.. staring.

"C-coa—"

"Do you do ballet?"

"Eh?" he blinked as he let out a confused noise yet received nothing but silence, so he forced his throat to answer. "Y-Yes! I've been doing bellet since I was five.."

Mr. Coach Schmidt hummed and then he went silent again. It's killing him.

He almost jumped and twisted his ankle when he spoke again. "What do you want to achieve after the sessions then?"

Van wants to ask a lot of things because his queries give him an odd hope of something. Surely this professional coach does not joke around and make them feel he will take them under his supervision.

He snuck air into his lungs. "I.. I want to be able to do a toe loop C-coach.."