Head Over Skates by Gigi Blume EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Gigi Blume
- Language: English
- Genre: Satire
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.9 MB
- Price: Free
OWEN
There’s nothing like the sound of the first few strides as my blades hit the
ice. The smell of early morning, freshly smoothed sheet. The crisp,
crunchy sound of my skates running across the glassy surface, echoing
throughout the rink. The otherwise quiet solitude, alone in the arena long
before my teammates arrive for morning skate.
This is what I need on game days. To erase the tension in my life
outside this arena. To breathe in the silence. To be blessedly alone on the
ice, even if only for a short while.
Except… I’m not alone. Mine aren’t the first tracks on the ice. I know
these tracks aren’t from last night, because I was one of the last to leave.
Other than the junior Zamboni driver. That tiny woman with honey-blonde
hair, who reminds me more of a stray kitten than an ice technician. When
she’s not wearing a beanie low on her head, hair pokes out of her high bun
in all directions. And those whiskey-colored eyes, big and round. Just like
that sad yellow kitty I found behind the dumpster when I was a kid. My
parents didn’t let me keep it, though.
I’ve spoken to the Zamboni driver once, only once. Okay, it was more
of a passing grunt when the other guys were giving her post-game highfives. She took one look at my hand, hanging aloof at my side, gave me a
cursory once-over, and popped her ear-buds in—shutting me out. To clarify,
I was having a rotten day and just needed to get away from people before
my chest caved in on me. Sometimes, just a little space will keep me from
feeling out of control. Hence—my early morning solo skate.
Ever since that day, I hardly glance her way when she whirls onto the
ice—that unruly bun barely visible over the massive snow tank of the
resurfacer machine. I try not to stare at those pink cheeks and that slight
upturned nose when the fans cheer for her just as much as they do the
players. The way her little lips curl at the corners right before she dips her
chin down to feign embarrassment.
Sometimes I wonder why she wears beanie caps or covers half her face
with a scarf. Sometimes she hides under a baseball hat. But she always,
always wears skin-tight black leggings, clinging to her fit, freakishly small
form.
Last night, I could hear her cheerily saying goodnight to the arena
manager and security team right after she’d cut the ice for the evening.
Lights clanked off, and no one crossed past the boards after that.
That’s how I know I’m not the first on the ice this morning. The trails
are light—barely visible. But they’re there.
I close my eyes and take a deep, cool breath.
It’s fine. Whoever it was is gone now, and I can still clear my head. If I
don’t get in this time alone on the ice, tonight’s game will suffer. Focus.
Mindset is key.
I unclench my fists and continue my ritual. Crossovers. Edge work.
Pivots and turns. At this moment, right now… the ice is mine and mine
alone.
For More Read Download This Book
EPUB