The Girl Who Fell(47)

My words seems to release some of her steam and she unbinds her fierce posture. “You do realize it’s our last Alumni Weekend before we’re alumni. And that I’m going to visit Jason and his family in New York for Turkey Day. I won’t see you all break.”

“We’ll catch up when you get home. I promise.”

“Sounds like a consolation prize. Besides, aren’t you supposed to represent the field hockey team during the awards ceremony on Wednesday?”

“Shit. I forgot all about that.”

“You forgot?”

Completely. Coach will be furious if I miss it. I can’t miss it. So when I meet up with Alec in French class and mention this small but somewhat important commitment I’m locked in to, it kills me to see the color fade from his face.

Alec sighs. “Yeah, okay. If you can’t get out of it. It’s just . . .”

“What?”

“I made plans when you said you’d be free.”

Ugh. “I’m so sorry. I seriously forgot all about it.”

“Could you make an excuse? I promise it will be worth it.”

I cringe, already hearing Coach’s screams. “I can’t. I’m the captain.”

“Cocaptain. And you were the cocaptain, past tense. Field hockey’s over now.”

He’s right of course. Still, his words kick up a flutter of fear in me. How can such a huge part of my life be over with unrelenting finality? And am I ready to move on?

Mrs. Sarter claps her hands and bellows out a too-cheerful French greeting. Alec leans over and whispers, “Our date’s important to me.”

I stare at the board and try to listen to the French babble Mrs. Sarter is laying on us, but I cut my eyes to Alec. His black Converse with the scuffs on the toe. The fray of his jeans where they rub at his sneakers. My mind bends to the class when I daydreamed over his citrus smell and the secrets he’d tell only me. And now that I know him I want even more. His secrets. His touch. My curiosity leaps thinking about what he could have planned just for me.

And that’s all I can think about, even as Wednesday morning arrives and I ready for my mystery date with Alec. Drying my hair, I remind myself that accepting a trophy in front of a random crowd is meaningless. What matters is winning State, and we did that. Karen or Coach can trot out the trophy for the citizens of Sudbury to clap over. Still, there’s a rumbling in the pit of my stomach telling me I’m missing out on something. Something I wouldn’t have missed for all the world before Alec.

But that was before Alec. A lifetime ago.

Then, as if he senses my doubts, he texts: On ur way?

I check the clock. Eleven thirty. Out the door now.

Hurry. It’s torture waiting.

I laugh. My stomach flitters with a lightness. Extreme much?

Stop texting and get over here!

Yes, sir.

Me likes it when u call me sir.

I grab my keys.

• • •

When I arrive at Whites Pond, the horizon is a blanket of ivory. We only got a dusting of snow last night but the sky is bland and crisp, stretching like a sea until it reaches the stand of lodge pole pines framing its northerly side. I see Alec skating on the edge of the ice, over the shallow end where little kids swim in the summer. I walk to the lip of frozen water and Alec skates to a stop in front of me, his sharp blades spraying a crest of shaved ice between us.

“Good morning, Zephyr actually. Wanna join me?”

“I didn’t bring my skates.”

“No need.” He coasts to the bank and pulls a white box from the snow. He removes a pair of figure skates, holds them up for me to see. “I come prepared.”

I giggle my disbelief. “Are they my size?”

“Yep. Custom purchased.” He places them in my hands.

“How do you know what size shoe I wear?”

“Ah, Zephyr. When are you going to realize that nothing about you goes unnoticed?” He pulls off his fleece and sets it on the snow. “Go ahead and sit. Put them on.”

I slip my foot into the hard leather of the skate and Alec kneels before me. He positions my blade between his knees and pulls on the laces, starting from the bottom and tightening his way to the top of my ankle.

“How do they feel?”

“A perfect fit.” But it’s the tender way he’s dressing me that feels too good.

He laces my other skate before pulling me upright. I lean into him and put my lips to his. It is a shock to feel the warmth of his mouth in the thick winter air.

His skates start their metered slide and I follow next to him, possibly overaware of how sexy his legs are as they pump into each glide. But I really am powerless over the staring, which is exactly how I manage to practically skate on top of the two hay bales. I swerve wide to avoid them at the last possible minute, but then I notice the third one, the one draped with a white tablecloth. Alec guides me onto one of the bales, as elegantly as if he’s pulling out a chair at a restaurant. He takes a seat across from the makeshift table and produces a basket from under the cloth.