Mia, p.1
Mia, page 1
To Cory and Lee Labov, who are stars in their own right
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: The Beast and Me
Chapter 2: The Flop Heard Round the World
Chapter 3: The Rink Rat
Chapter 4: Challenges
Chapter 5: Three Little Monsters
Chapter 6: The Riot
Chapter 7: The Game
Chapter 8: Pampered
Chapter 9: Holidazed
Chapter 10: Rehearsals
Chapter 11: Christmas
Chapter 12: Star Power
Chapter 13: The Toughest Two Minutes
Chapter 14: Fright Night
Real Girls, Real Letters
Preview of Bravo, Mia!
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright
I didn’t mean to run over Vanessa with the Beast, and I was really sorry afterwards. Or pretty sorry. Okay, almost sorry. But I bet that I’m not the only one from the club who’s at least thought about doing it.
That Friday afternoon, the Beast, the Lucerne’s old ice-resurfacing machine, had broken down at the worst possible time—right before the arrival of the new head coach. She was coming to be in charge of the Lucerne Skate Club and the whole rink itself. Among other duties, she was taking over the students of the former coach, Mr. Nelson, but we knew that eventually she would select her own group of skaters.
I’d been one of Coach Nelson’s skaters, but I had never really understood why he’d bothered with me. All he ever did was point out my mistakes. I fully expected the new head coach to assign me to one of the assistant coaches after she saw me skate.
Bob, the rink superintendent, was working frantically to fix the Beast. He dreams of souping it up and racing it against other ice resurfacers. So far, though, he’s had to satisfy himself with painting the Beast’s name in large letters on the side and adding stripes and other detailing.
The problem that day was that the rink was really crowded because a lot of people from the skating club had shown up early and were skating while they waited for the new head coach to arrive.
Normally, I would have hung out with my best friend, Anya Sorokowski, but I was trying to help Bob. It is all my parents can do to pay for my lessons and skate club fees, so, in addition to their volunteer efforts with skate club activities, I help out at the Lucerne in exchange for ice time.
But I can’t complain. My three hockey-crazy brothers all work part-time to help pay for their skating expenses. Even so, both of my parents are holding down a couple of jobs.
I usually help with all the dull, boring things that need to get done at the rink: emptying trash, putting towels in the locker rooms, sweeping the floors, and so on. But Bob had asked me to sit on the resurfacer and turn it on when he told me to. So there I was, perched on top of the Beast like a sparrow on a boulder, with a good view of the other skaters.
Vanessa Knowles is ten, just like me, but that’s about the only thing we have in common. She has long dark hair, bright blue eyes, and flawless skin.
I, on the other hand, have freckles that I once tried to rub out with my eraser without any luck. And when I was small, my coppery red hair and green eyes made me stand out from the other kids. A few of the denser kids even tried to tease me about my hair until I set them straight—you don’t grow up with three older hockey-playing brothers without learning how to defend yourself.
I told my mother that we could solve everything if she would just dye my hair blonde, but she said that plenty of distinguished people had red hair, including Mark Twain.
But I’d already looked up some names on the Internet. “So did Genghis Khan,” I said to her.
Despite all my tears and pleas, my hair stayed the same color.
It really isn’t fair, though. Not only was Vanessa born beautiful, but she can afford the best of everything, from clothes to skates to the recently removed braces that gave her a perfect smile.
Almost always dressed in pink, Queen Vanessa always expects everyone to get out of her way when she skates. Even Chad had to twist away from her path—which he did with his typical easy grace. At sixteen, he is a senior-level skater who did well at this year’s Sectional competition.
I saw Anya gliding across the ice. Her mother used to skate professionally in Europe, so skating is in Anya’s blood. Though we’re both ten, Anya is a lot shorter than me. She’s as pretty as a doll, with big brown eyes and long blonde hair that she usually ties into a bun for practice.
Anya joined the club two years before I did, so between that and her background, she is a lot better than me. She should be a level ahead of me, but she always messes up at the tests or in competitions. However, when she’s skating just for fun, like now, she floats along like a leaf in the wind.
Suddenly I heard a bonging as Bob tapped the Beast’s side with his wrench to get my attention.
“Earth to Mia, Earth to Mia,” he called up to me. “Waken the Beast.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to daydream.”
I turned the key, and the Beast gave a loud cough and sent out a huge puff of black smoke. Beneath me, I felt the machine vibrating and bouncing like an elephant on a trampoline.
“You fixed it!” I congratulated him.
Vanessa skated toward us with both hands on her hips, glaring up at me. “Now get that monstrosity out of here.”
I had started to get off the seat so that Bob could climb up when the Beast began to creep forward. A snail could have outraced us, so I wasn’t worried.
“Put the brake back on,” Bob shouted.
“But I didn’t touch the brake,” I said, holding up my hands helplessly. “Where is it?!”
Bob started after me, but he tripped and fell, sprawling on the ice.
“Get out of the way, you dope!” Vanessa yelled, waving her arms like a windmill as the Beast crawled toward her at barely one mile per hour.
Grabbing the wheel, I turned left. Unfortunately, so did Vanessa. I didn’t think anyone’s eyes really got as big as saucers until I saw hers actually do it.
Suddenly there was a shadowy blur on my right. A woman I’d never seen before jumped up beside me. She had a mop of blonde hair and a large, sharp nose. Grabbing the key, she twisted it, and the Beast died.
We both breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what you should have done,” she said.
Someone gave a frightened squeak, followed by a thunk and then a soft pflop. Startled, I looked over the side and saw Vanessa flat on her back, with those still-wide eyes staring up at the ceiling lights.
I covered my mouth with my hands. “I’ve killed Vanessa.”
The woman jumped down and took Vanessa’s wrist to feel for a pulse, but Vanessa sat up and jerked her hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in outrage. Then she noticed me still on top of the Beast. “I’m going to have you arrested,” she spat at me.
“I’m going to have you arrested,” Vanessa spat at me.
“No, the resurfacer had already stopped. You were too scared to halt, so it was you who ran into it,” the woman said firmly, giving Vanessa a quick inspection for sprains or broken bones. “Go ahead and get up, Vanessa. You’re fine.”
Vanessa spluttered like a pink motorboat engine. “Who are you?”
“Emma Schubert,” the lady said.
Emma Schubert was the name of the new head coach, Mr. Nelson’s replacement.
Bob pulled off his glove and stuck out his hand. Noticing the grease, he tried to clean his palm without much success by wiping it on his pants. Then he extended his hand again. “I’m Bob Gunderson.”
Ms. Schubert stood up and shook his hand, dirt and all. “Glad to meet you.” Then she looked up at me. “Have you got a name, or are you just part of this machine?”
I clambered down from the seat. “I’m Mia…Mia St. Clair.”
Her lips moved as she repeated my name silently, filing it away in her mind. “What are you doing up there? Only employees should be using rink equipment.”
I was too petrified to say anything, so Bob spoke for me. “She is an employee, more or less. Part of the Lucerne family, so to speak.”
“I…I work here…in exchange for ice time, ” I stammered. “I take lessons here.”
“St. Clair…hmm, I don’t recall that name.” Ms. Schubert took a list from her coat pocket and scanned it quickly. “Well, never mind. Just don’t let her up on that thing anymore,” Ms. Schubert ordered Bob. “We were lucky this time.”
“Yeah, Vanessa might have dented the Beast,” Bob joked. Then he swallowed when Ms. Schubert frowned. “Sorry,” he said.
She climbed back up onto the Beast and stood there, proud as an eagle, for a moment. When she clapped her hands, the sound echoed like gunshots under the high ceiling of the rink. “Everybody gather around!” she called.
Everyone was already watching from a distance, but now all the skaters collected around the commanding figure. “I’m Emma Schubert, the new head coach,” she said. She turned slowly as if examining each skater. Not a few looked away from that hawk-like gaze. “I’m going to meet with each of you over the next couple of weeks and assess your strengths and weaknesses. You probably all dream about making Nationals and even the Olympics, and I’m going to try my hardest to see that you do. If you listen to me—and work hard—you’ll be ready to match yourselves against the best skaters our sport has to offer. And yet, I’ll make each of you into a competitor that, win or lose, people will always point at and say,
“But your toughest competition will always be your own selves. You’ll want to be stronger, fitter, and better at skating every time you set foot on the ice.”
She let that sink in for a moment and then went on. “And even if you never get to stand on a podium, figure skating is a great sport. It teaches you about yourself. You’ll find feelings that you never knew you had—and figure skating will let you express them better than any words could. And helping you learn that is my real job.” She spread her hands in dismissal. “That’s all. Thank you.”
As the skaters dispersed, she said to Bob, “Please get this piece of junk off the ice somehow before we have another accident.” Then she jerked her head at me. “Don’t you have something else to do?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and was glad to make my escape.
I had certainly started off on the wrong foot with Coach Schubert, so I was glad to get away and do my chores.
Between skating and working to pay for it, I spend a lot of time at the Lucerne. Bob and his wife, Mona, who also works at the Lucerne, have even set up a corner of the main office so that I can do homework there, squeezed in between skate club practice and my rink chores. Perry, my oldest brother, always asks how I can stand performing such menial tasks at the rink. But Bob says we are really hosts who are just being hospitable to our guests. So as I sweep the floors or change the trash bags, I imagine myself helping Mom clean up our house, and I try to do as good a job as I can.
As I worked, I tried not to think about my next meeting with Coach Schubert and instead concentrated on my usual Friday afternoon routine. It was satisfying to check off each item on my To Do list. Even the old coach, who’d said I had two left feet, had not been able to criticize how hard I worked off the ice. I might be hopeless as a skater, but I am a genius as a janitor.
The assistant coaches who handle a lot of the general classes in skating and ice dancing started to drop by to meet Coach Schubert, so the building was starting to fill up. And, as I’ve learned, the more people you have, the more garbage you get.
I was just changing the trash bags in the offices when I heard the noise in the boardroom. It’s a large room where the club’s board of directors meets and where skate club parent volunteers meet and work on costumes and programs and things like that. But most of the time the club’s members use it as a social room.
When I peeked inside, I saw a lot of the club’s skaters seated on the floor or on the big table that had been pushed against the wall. Vanessa was standing next to the videotape recorder and television.
I could see that she was still seething over the brusque way Coach Schubert had treated her. “What was all that stuff about feeling good? That’s loser talk, and she’s a loser. But we won’t have her long.” She held up a videotape. “My father got ahold of this tape as ammunition.” And she popped it into the machine.
Vanessa’s best friend, a girl named Gemma, said, “Too bad he didn’t have it before the board hired her.” She slipped a piece of gum into her mouth and threw the wrapper on the floor.
I made a point of picking it up and putting it into the empty garbage bag I was carrying, but Gemma ignored me as usual. It’s at moments like this when I feel a little like Cinderella in her servant years.
“Excuse me,” Izumi said. “I thought she was an Olympian.” Though she was born in Japan, Izumi’s father works for some big global company, so she has lived all around the world. At the moment, her family is renting a house in the town’s expensive subdivision, Lakeview Heights. She’s a senior-level skater like Chad and the best jumper among the girls.
“Our coach ought to be a winner, not a loser,” said Tyler. He hangs around with Chad, maybe hoping that some of Chad’s talent will rub off on him. He looked to Chad for confirmation, but Chad just shrugged.
Vanessa fiddled with the fast-forward button, and tiny skaters began dashing madly back and forth across the screen. Suddenly the tape slowed to normal speed and she straightened up.
As music began to play, the name of the piece appeared across the bottom of the screen: Swan Lake, by Peter Tchaikovsky.
“Here it is.” She held out both hands, palms upward, like a model showing a prize on a game show. “This is ‘The Flop Heard Round the World.’”
It took me a moment to recognize the woman who had just rescued me from the Beast because her hairdo belonged to fifteen years ago and she was quite a bit slimmer. But there was no mistaking that nose.
Vanessa grinned. “Here she goes.”
Coach Schubert started into an axel jump.
“Up, up…” Gemma chanted.
One turn. Two turns. And then she tried for a third, but even I could see she was at the wrong angle and wasn’t high enough. I held my breath even though I knew what was going to happen.
“And splat!” Vanessa finished.
The coach landed right on her face, her legs and arms sprawling every which way.
Vanessa hit the pause button and turned. “I want someone who can teach me how to win, not lose.”
“You might as well watch the rest of it,” Coach Schubert said, striding through the doorway. No one had noticed her standing in the hall.
Vanessa stood there, frozen, as though the Beast were bearing down on her again. Coach Schubert ignored her, searching for the play button on the front of the video player and then hitting it.
The music resumed, the notes swelling in a triumphant crescendo—in sharp contrast to the injured skater who was struggling just to get back up. When she lifted her head, I saw the red stripes beneath her nostrils. Her nose was bleeding.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the muscles working in the coach’s jaw as if she was struggling to keep her face blank. But I could tell the memory was still painful after all these years. A frightened Vanessa slipped around her and escaped out of the room. Gemma slithered silently after her.
I hadn’t seen the place clear out so fast since someone set off a stink bomb in the boys’ locker room last Halloween.
I wanted to leave with the others, but even though Coach Schubert was The Head Coach, she was still new to the Lucerne, so I felt that she was sort of like a guest and that someone ought to apologize.
But as I stood there, waiting for the scene to end, there was something about the tape that fascinated me. Instead of heading off the ice to get some medical attention, the young Coach Schubert began to skate again, picking up her routine so that it matched the music again. But she was limping now. It was like watching a wounded bird try to fly.
Even when she fell a second time, she got up and continued. I found myself thinking, Stop. Stop! Get help. But she kept on, despite the cameras flashing, despite the lenses zooming in relentlessly on her face. It was twisted in such pain. Was it because of her leg, or because she had spoiled her big chance?
I bobbed and weaved, trying to see past the rushing horde. The last Lucerne skaters were leaving the room as the coach stopped the tape and rewound it. By the time she turned around, I was the only one left.
I twisted the garbage bag back and forth in my hands. “I’m…sorry.”
The coach stared at me. “Don’t be. I was the one who chose to try a triple axel.” When the tape had rewound, she ejected it.
When I still hadn’t moved, the coach glanced at me. “Yes?”
“I thought you were…were…” I hunted for the right word.
“Clumsy? Stupid?” the coach asked with a twisted smile. “I’ve been called both those things, and a whole lot worse.”
I gulped. “No, brave.” The words came out of me in a nervous rush. “I would have given up, but you went on skating.” I couldn’t help adding, “Why?”
The coach stared at me. “I’ve read your background file. I understand you’re a pretty good hockey player. Why did you choose figure skating instead?”
I got scared because I felt as if I was being tested and the wrong answer would flunk me. “I’ve got three older brothers and they’re all crazy about hockey, so I just grew up playing it. It’s fun.”
“And figure skating isn’t?” she asked.
“I’m not very good at it,” I confessed.
Coach Schubert cut in sharply, “Coach Nelson wouldn’t have kept you as a student if you were that bad.”
Privately, I thought it was because he liked to pick on me, but out loud I said, “I never understood that, because all he did was point out my mistakes.”
