The Inside Edge: Chapter Three

            By the time that the rink cleared enough for Brianne to begin her second round of stops, she was sorely tempted to call it a day. Her thighs ached with the strain of keeping her body upright and effortless as she glided around, taking the corners, attempting to keep pace with the boys beside her—which was mortifying, since she knew how slowly they were moving.

            “Doing great!”

            “Don’t lock your knees.”

            “Don’t tense so much!”

            “That’s it. Ease into the turn!”

            Pleased with herself, she rather felt she’d more-or-less managed to keep from looking downright inept. So, yes, okay she fell twice but as Cory and the boys stopped to help her scramble back to her feet, they didn’t so much as crack a grin, not even when a small shriek or two escaped her mouth.

            Now, watching as a family slowly levered themselves off the rink, Brianne felt an innate protest rise up in her throat when Cory turned to her.

            “I think we’re clear for takeoff.”

            “Takeoff?” There was no hiding the reluctance in her voice.

            “Don’t worry, Ms. Kelling. Now that you’ve found a more solid footing, I don’t think stopping will be so tough.”

            Which is how she found herself, yet again, stationed against one wall of the arena, pushing forward at the Cory’s go-ahead. Feeling her legs shove and stretch as she raced toward the opposite end, Brianne’s eyes narrowed on her destination. She tried to remember their teachings—shift, lean, lift and lower. It was about finding the right angle…  

            However, when she felt her legs fly out from underneath her, the blades of her skates crunching up against the boards, Brianne only whimpered. Her shoulder, where it’d smacked against the ice, immediately tensed as pain sliced through her consciousness.

            “What a wipeout.”

            “Yeah, nicely done.”

            Laughing weakly, Brianne carefully brought herself to her feet. Rubbing her shoulder, she tried not to wince at the eager faces pointed her way. “Okay. I guess, ah, let’s try again?”

            At the whoop of cheers her words received, Brianne knew she’d said the right thing. Moving carefully, she got herself back into position.

            “Maybe just…”

            Brianne’s eyes shifted at the reluctant words which had been said from George. When her gaze met his, she watched a slow rise of color spread across his face.

            “Maybe just?”

            “Maybe just don’t, you know, skate so fast?”

            “Yeah, there’s no rush.”

            “It’s more about finding the balance than mastering the speed.”

            Swallowing past a surge of bruised pride, Brianne nodded her head once, sharply. “Okay.”

            So they tried again. And again. And she fell again, and again. Until… On her fifth attempt, she almost had it. She almost stayed upright. Cutting an even angle, she felt her skates connect on the ice, slide roughly before stuttering to a slow fumbling stop. For a moment, just one brief moment, she kept her balance. And then it all fell apart. Her equilibrium crumbled as her body jerked at the unnatural pitch and position. It began with the slightest sway of her upper-shoulders, followed by an undeniable pull of gravity. Her hips swerved and before she could fully let the smile breaking across her mouth come to fruition, Brianne felt her arms swinging out instinctively, rolling first forward and then backward, as she tried to pull herself straight.

            “Whoa—oh no!”

            With a plop, Brianne landed hard on her bottom. “Well, shoot,” she grumbled, looking down at her legs spread out before her.

            “Oh man, you were so close!” Charlie cried, coming to flying halt beside her. He smiled widely.

            “Yeah,” Cory echoed. “I thought for sure you had it that time.”

            Gingerly, Brianne rose. “Yeah, me too,” she sighed. She glanced at the boys. “Sorry guys.”

            “No way!”

            “Yeah—and at least this time you didn’t scream.”

            “Well, not much, anyway.”

            The sudden, shrill sound of a whistle brought all heads snapping around. Brianne’s eyes widened, just as they’d done the week before, when she’d first laid eyes on the man now confidently striding toward them. “All right, boys. Enough for today.”

            “Hey Coach.”

            “What time is it?” George asked.

            “Ten minutes past warm-ups.”

            There was no question of obedience. Quickly, the group dispersed, heading toward the players bench on one side of the arena.

            “See ya, Ms. Kelling,” Cory hollered over his shoulder. A few others waved in goodbye.

            “Great job, today,” George said.

            At the words, which sounded so ill-fittingly adult, coming out of the mouth of such a young teenager, Brianne was forced to bite back a smile. Instead, she nodded seriously, thanking them quietly as the boys passed by.

            Two other adults gained the ice then. Pushing a goalie net between them, they slowly advanced toward where Brianne and the Coach still stood. Feeling flustered, and not entirely sure why, she pushed anxiously at her hat, offering a small smile to the man the boys referred to as ‘Coach.’. “Hockey practice?”

            He nodded.

            Her cringed “We ran late, again, didn’t we?”

            He nodded again, the lines around his eyes crinkling a little as something nearing amusement flashed across his face. “’Fraid so.”

            “Shoot. Listen, I’m sorry,” Brianne rushed to say, not sure if she was apologizing on behalf of the boys or herself. “I promise, this won’t become a habit.” Shuffling out of the way now, she watched as the other two men slowly approached, positioning the net.

            The coach’s voice, however, brought her gaze swinging back around. “Like I said last time, I could have called it quits whenever.”

            “Still, I’ll try to be more respectful of the time.”

            Leaning down, his voice only just carried to her ears. “No one likes a clock-watcher.”

            Her mouth gaping at the words, she glanced up at him questioning. The slight glint in his brown eyes assured her he was joking. She laughed weakly, one wrist flipping toward the ice at their feet. “Thank God. I’ve never been terribly good at telling the time from upside down, anyway.”

            He moved back now, his voice no longer lowered. “Nah, you almost had it.”

            Opening her mouth at the unexpected words, nonplussed, before she could speak, another voice entered the conversation.

            “Especially that last run. You nearly stuck it!”

            Brianne’s eyes widened, her head shifting to catch sight of the speaker—the voice of which belonged to one of the other two men on the rink.

            The man smiled back at her. Tall, incredibly slender, his bright red hair was only half-disguised under the brim of his hat. “Brian Dennis—and this is Fred Coolidge.” With a jut of his chin, he nodded toward the slightly stooped figure of the man beside him. Fred looked to be quickly nearing the age of retirement.

            “Brianne Kelling,” she returned, all the while conspicuously aware that she still didn’t know Coach’s name. Before she could ask him, though, another thought occurred to her. “Wait. You were watching?” Her eyes flew from one to the next. “The whole time?”

            The coach laughed, the husky sound catching quietly in the air as the men and Brianne, perforce, moved toward the edge of the rink. “No.”

            “Oh.”
           “Only once practice started.”

            “Oh.”

            The coach winked. “I mean, that’s kind of our job.”

            The older gentlemen—Fred—guffawed hoarsely. “You’ve got try, girl. I’ll give you that.”

            Brianne smiled shyly, fighting and miserably failing to keep the blush off her face. “The boys are good teachers.”

            “Yeah.” Brian whistled, his voice coming out low now, controlled. “That was…that was something to see.”

            The coach looked at him. “I told you.”

            “Yeah,” Brian sighed, shaking his head, “but until today—”

            “They were working together,” Fred said.

            “As a team.”

            “No bickering.”

            “Not once.”

            The coach nodded. “No school pride.”

            “No rivalry.”

            “Just a bunch of kids, belonging together.”

            Brianne quietly swallowed these half-statements, realizing that something profound was being said underneath them. “I, uh, I take it they’ve had a tough year?”

            Coach coughed. “Yeah.”

            She nodded. “So that’s why.”

            “Why?”

            She flicked her eyes toward him. A small frown hinted at the base of his mouth, but she spoke anyway, her words pointed, “Why you could have called it quits at any time but you didn’t.”

            With a sidelong glance, he nodded, the edges of his lips turning down just slightly. “You’ve been oddly good for them.”

            “Hah!” With a smothered laugh, she stuck her hands in her coat pockets, her feet sure on the ice as they neared the edge of the arena where her exit awaited. “I guess that makes it easier to swallow.”

            Brian looked at her. “What?”

            “Making a fool of myself.”

            “You’ll get it.”

            “You almost had it,” Fred assured her.

            “Yeah, you did.”

            Ridiculous as it seemed, those opinions did a lot to bolster Brianne’s confidence. Pushing up her chin, she forced herself to ask: “What, ah, what did I do wrong?”

            A moment of silence passed as the men looked at one another. Finally, Coach looked over at her. “Nothing a few more practices with the boys won’t fix.”

            “A few more practices?” Brianne’s voice faltered a little over the words.

            Brian lifted his eyebrows. “I mean, you can’t quit now—not when you’re so close to getting the hang of it.”

            Brianne let out a strangled laugh. “God forbid.” By this point, they’d reached the far end of the rink. Carefully stepping over the threshold of the doorway and onto the thick rubbing mating skirting the arena, Brianne took a moment to look back at the three men. She wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

            To their credit, each man looked innocently surprised at the words.

            “The boys can tell me what I did wrong? It would be wrong to quit now?” She pursed her lips. “It’s fine if I we run into scheduled practice time?”

            Brian squirmed a little under the words and Fred averted his gaze. Coach was the only one who seemed wholly unaffected by her words.

            “You’re using me.”

            “That’s…a bit dramatic.”

            “In a mutually beneficial capacity,” Brian assured her. Fred nodded eagerly.

            The coach only shrugged.

            Before she could challenge them further, she saw the boys out of her peripheral vision, slowly re-entering the ice.

            “Don’t worry, Ms. Kelling—soon enough you’ll be able to stop like this…” Without further ado, Brianne watched as Cory and George raced one another down the length of the rink, shreds of ice swirling around their legs as they each pulled to a dramatic stop inches away from the boards.

            Laughing despite herself, Brianne raised her arms up in the air and let out a nice cry of cheer. “Nicely done, guys!”

            “See you next week!”

            “Don’t forget to practice—”

            “Where is she going to practice?”

            “Well, I don’t know. Simulation exercises?”

            As the boys’ voices floated overhead, Brianne turned back to Coach. He smiled smugly. “Well?”

            Brianne’s eyes narrowed. “Well what?”

            “They clearly expect to see you next week.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, but not because she was truly upset. “I’ll be there.”

            He grinned. He had nice, even teeth. “I’ll be sure to let them know.”

            “I’ll just bet you will,” she muttered and with a curt nod, stalked away toward the bleachers surrounding the arena. Sitting down, she began the process of removing her skates. Bending down to untie the laces, she couldn’t quite fight the grin spreading across her face.