The Inside Edge: Chapter One

Her legs wobbled, her knees knocking as she felt the blades of her ice-skates cut roughly across the skating rink. Arms akimbo, Brianne tried to pull herself up to her full height to no avail. Her shoulders hunched, her stomach curling nervously inward as she cautiously picked up her feet, the thin blades running roughshod, scratching uncertainly on the ground beneath her.

“Watch out!”

Jerking at the sound of a young voice floating across the air, Brianne felt her legs snap together at the sound, her legs slipping on the polished ice as a body rushed far too closely past her. Pitching forward, she desperately tried to keep upright. Spinning her arms backward and then forward, her body jostling every which way, she only just managed it.

Blindly, she lunged headlong toward a stretch of the boards surrounding the indoor arena. Reaching them safely, her fingers gripping the edges, she came to a grateful stop out of reach of other skaters.

Catching her breath, Brianne tried to block out the swirl of brightly colored jackets and hats flying around her. It was open skate at the community ice center and though Brianne had expected it to be busy, she hadn’t expected it to be so…well, terrifying.

She’d skated as a child. Having grown up in Minnesota, it’d practically been a rite of passage when her father had tied her first set of laces. Still, childhood had been a long time ago. Furrowing her brows, Brianne figured it’d been somewhere in the vicinity of ten years since she’d last tried out the sport.

She’d figured she’d be rusty, but she’d also figured it’d be liking riding a bike; once you learned it, that was it. She’d been wrong.

Her equilibrium couldn’t find focus, her legs felt like jelly and the hard ground looked so much farther away than it had the last time she’d tried on a pair of skates. Blowing at a wisp of hair which had escaped from her red-crocheted hat, Brianne slowly forced herself off the boards and back into motion, her body stiff as she slowly maneuvered on the ice. A few youths circled around her, giving her wide-berth.

Except that one boy. The same one who’d almost caused her collapse only minutes before…

Brianne felt her lips pull into a tight line as she saw his leather jacket come into view again. Only, now he’d changed directions. Fast approaching her, he sped greedily toward her, his body advancing at an alarming rate. His skates were a blur as he pushed himself, his movements heading straight in front of her path.

With a hobbling movement, Brianne pulled herself a little to the right, so she was no longer directly in his line of motion. In reaction, he moved a little to the left. Smirking at her, the teenager couldn’t have made his intentions clearer. He was purposely rushing at her!

Squeezing her eyes shut as he came barreling onward, his body so close she could practically feel the impact of it slamming into hers, Brianne tensed, waiting… only nothing happened. The sound of cruel laughter floated overhead; a brush of leather slid against her arm from far too close a distance as he finally pressed past her. It was only then that she remembered to re-open her eyes.

Sucking in a forceful of air, Brianne considered, not for the first time, that this had been a mistake. Her slow, inept movements would have been fine, manageable even, if she hadn’t been so utterly…alone.

Not that she was complaining. She’d done that to herself—she’d done that for herself.

Still…Grimacing as she awkwardly rounded a corner, Brianne allowed her gaze to sweep enviously across the couples and groups huddled around her. At one time, she’d had those things. Friends. Loved ones. She’d desperately believed in the people in her life.

And that had brought here here—to Idaho. On her own.

“On your left…nope your right!”

Stiffening at the mocking words—coming from no other than Leather Jacket, himself—Brianne felt the muscles in her calf’s spasm as she awaited his swerving pass. Holding her breath, she managed to keep to her feet as he boxed her in, taunted her before finally gliding away.

“You gotta relax your shoulders. Ma’am.”

“Huh?” Turning her head stiffly at the suggestion—and the slightly delayed address— Brianne met a pair of light brown eyes. The owner of them, who’d sidled up silently beside her, couldn’t have been much older than she gauged Leather Jacket to be—maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. “Are you talking to me?”

In response, he nodded at her tense stance. “You’re too stiff. Loosen up. You gotta let your body glide naturally.”

Momentarily stupefied, she could offer little more than a terse smile. “Oh. Umm. Thanks.”

“First time on skates?”

Brianne managed a small smile. “In a long time, yes.”

“Tell her, her skates are too close together.”

This piece of advice came at Brianne from the opposite side as another teenager swept up alongside her. Shifting her gaze, Brianne came across the smiling face of a slightly overweight boy.

“But mostly, just don’t mind him,” a third boy said, snatching up a spot alongside the heavier-set youth. He jerked his chin toward Leather Jacket, who was quickly making the rounds. “He’s a douchebag.”

Though she doubted his parents would appreciate his choice of wording, Brianne couldn’t keep a small chuckle from escaping.

“Yeah. I’ve been firmly introduced to that assumption, myself—ah!” At that precise moment a small girl twirled on a patch of ice a few yards in front of them, unheeding of their impending progress.

Gasping, Brianne’s eyes popped. “Oh God!” she cried, her hands moving out in a futile gesture of reaction. Lurching to the right, heedless of the boys crowded her in, Brianne just managed to veer away from the small child.

Shifting gracefully in response to her fumbling steps, the boys edged out a bit, giving her space to regain her bearings before falling easily back into line with her. They looked from her stricken face back to the oblivious and then to one another.

One of them coughed. “Do you, uh, do you know how to stop?”

“I barely know how to stand.”

Two of them chuckled.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I used to be able to. I think.”

“A T-stop doesn’t count.”

“Oh.” Brianne considered this. “Then no. I don’t.”

A moment of silence descended. In that time a few more boys had joined the small posse; Brianne remained cocooned safely in the middle of the pack. She hadn’t thought much of the arrangement until she realized that these boys, whether deliberately or not, had thwarted Leather Jacket’s fun game. The next time she saw him, he was force to arch widely around them. Around her.

“You should probably learn.”

“Huh?” With a snap, Brianne brought her gaze back to the first boy.

He looked over at the other kids clambered around. “What do you guys think?”

A few nods. “We could teach you.”

“It’s easy.”

“Well…you’ll fall a lot.”

“Like, a lot, a lot.”

“…but then one time you won’t—,”

“—and then you’ll never fall again.”

“Well…”

“Shut up George!”

At the symphony of noise surrounding her, Brianne wasn’t given so much as a chance to make up her own mind about their sweet, if ridiculous, offer.

Which was how she found herself, ten minutes later, her back pressed up against the boards, the boys gathered on either side of her, preparing to press off and run down to the other side of the rink where she was supposed to, somehow, stop. By this time, most of the skaters had retired. There was only five minutes left of open skate before one of the scheduled hockey practices was set to begin. The rink was more-or-less their own.

She gulped, her eyes traversing down the long stretch of ice. “So—what do I do again?”

“Lift one leg.”

“Just slightly.”

Eye roll. “Just slightly. Then shift, rotate, and lean back into a full stop.”

“Don’t be afraid to glide forward a bit.”

“And don’t over correct.”

“That’s how you fall.”

Brianne gulped. Her large eyes scanned the boisterous faces turned so earnestly in her direction She had serious doubts about the wisdom in this idea. Still, if these young boys were willing to teach her—who was she to turn away a gift of kindness?

Besides, if she was ever going to attempt skating again, she’d need to master the basics.

With a curt nod, she murmured: “Let’s try this!”

Shoving off the start, Brianne felt her legs push into forward movement. As she slowly picked up speed, Brianne felt her body stiffen as the other side of the arena came closer and closer into view.

“Okay, now!” one of the boys hollered from beside her. As a line, all the teenagers were racing along with her.

Brianne lifted one leg—and immediately toppled over.

“Oof!”

“Make sure you plant your left foot on the ice.”

Pulling herself up gingerly, Brianne nodded. “Okay.”

“Let’s try it again.”

And again, Brianne fell. Her elbow smacked hard against the ice when she tumbled backward.

“Don’t lean back so far.”

Blowing out a deep breath, Brianne tried to grin. She’d been right. This hadn’t been the best idea. Though she desperately wanted to call it quits, she found her voice unable to plead her case. These young men were offering something unique: their generosity and time.

Pushing onward, Brianne felt her eyes narrow as she once again skated toward her end goal. Steadying her left foot, she slowly lifted the right, leaned back and then toppled forward, her right shoulder taking the brunt of her fall.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Cory, the unofficial leader of the group, said—he was boy with the light brown eyes, the one who’d first skated up beside her. Sliding to a graceful stop, he reached down for her arm, cautiously pulling her up. “It’s all part of the process.”

“Great,” she huffed, slowly pulling her feet underneath her.

“No one gets it on the first try.”

“Or the first ten,” the chubbier boy, who she’d since learned was named Charlie, said.

“It takes practice.”

“Which you all are wasting.”

Twisting her head at the inclusion of a new voice, a stern voice—this one deeply masculine—entering the conversation so forcefully, Brianne found a man standing just inside the rink. He was wearing a thick blue hat and a thin jacket with a pair of blue jeans. A shadow of a beard highlighted his jawline.

“Hey coach!”

In response, the man looked down at his watch, his eyebrow arching pointedly. “Do you boys know what time it is?”

The teens groaned in unison, their eyes taking in the large clock to one side of the building. It was then that Brianne noticed it…the other skaters, who had been slowly thinning out when it’d been decided to teach her how to properly stop, had completely disappeared. Her own eyes glanced at the clock. It was almost fifteen minutes past the end of open skate.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Brianne rushed to say, her voice catching the man’s attention. She held up a hand. “It’s my fault. They were trying to teach me how to stop.”

The coach’s lips hitched up a little to one side. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Brianne laughed away her embarrassment. “I’m not a natural talent at it.”

“You were making progress.”

She smiled, ducking her head a little in recognition of this. “Thanks.” Then, with a little more finesse than she’d possessed when she first entered the arena, Brianne moved toward the far end of the rink, where the coach was standing next to an open door.

“Where are Brian and Coolidge?”

The coach nodded over his shoulder before returning his gaze to Brianne’s steady progress. “Grabbing the goals.”

“Again, I’m very so sorry,” she muttered once she’d was within feet of him. Stepping out of her way, he merely nodded as she stepped out of the rink and onto the thick rubber matting surrounding the enclosure.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, almost absently. “I could have called it quits any time.”

“Well, thank you—” Brianne said, mildly curious about his wording but uncertain of voicing her questions. Instead, she offered him an impish grin. “For stopping it when you did. My elbow feels about ready to fall off.”

He laughed quietly, a rich timbre, but otherwise seemed uninterested in prolonging their conversation. “No doubt.”

With a quick glance at the lineup of boys still standing in the rink, Brianne raise up one mittened hand. “Thanks for the help, guys!”

“Come back next Sunday,” Charlie cried. This was met with a chorus of agreement. “We’ll get you ice-ready in no time!”

Brianne’s smile wavered just slightly but whatever she’d been about to say was eclipsed when the coach turned to stare at her. He had the same brown eyes as Cory. His voice was low when he said: “Why waste bruised muscles with nothing to show for it?”

At the slight challenge, Brianne’s grin become determined, her eyes sparkling. “Well, if you’re sure—”

“Definitely.”

“Yeah, you almost had it!”

“Okay, see you then!” Brianne called anxious not to steal any more time away from hockey practice. With hobbling steps, she shuffled to a row of low benches. Sitting down, she began to slowly untie her laces. A week.

One week until the next open skate. One week to repair the muscles screaming in protest. What had she gotten herself into?