The Ice Chalet really was like something out of the eighties with the purple and orange racing stripes painted along the walls surrounding the rink. There were no boards, just a step down onto the ice, and all heads swiveled my way as I took off my guards and tossed them on a bench.

Crap. I was later than I realized. I shook off the thought of Mr. Webber’s disapproving frown and gave the assembled skaters on the ice my biggest smile as I glided over to join the group.

Bill and Manon stood before the skaters with a couple of assistants I recognized vaguely. The ten or so students ranged in age from about twelve to early twenties. Most of them smiled back at me, one little girl clearly starstruck. I gave her a wink.

Bill said, “There you are. Remember we start and finish every week with an early team session.”

“Right, right. Sorry—still jet-lagged.” Which was the truth! Although I also hadn’t practiced at seven in the morning for years. Mr. Webber had accepted that I wasn’t a morning person. Manon had emailed me a weekly schedule, but I hadn’t looked closely at it. Or at all aside from noting I had to be here way too early on Monday.

As Bill introduced me to the other skaters, I was aware of Henry Sakaguchi’s disapproving stare boring into me. He and my mother could exchange notes on their techniques. Naturally, I gave him my best smile as Bill came to him last.

“And you know Henry, of course.”

“Hey, man!” I held up my hand for a high five because it would probably piss him off.

Wearing a typical practice outfit very similar to mine—black skating pants and a long-sleeved black athletic shirt—Henry stared at me, his arms still crossed over his chest. Not breaking even a hint of a smile, he barely slapped my palm since apparently even Henry’s alien leaders had taught him you couldn’t leave someone hanging.

Manon announced, “All right, let’s start with bubbles.”

I blinked in surprise as everyone—including Henry—fell into line along the ice, moving their feet in and out rhythmically to form big circles. This was something we’d learned as little kids.

Manon said to me, “We always start with the basics. Knee action and balance for a strong foundation. Skate in the ice, not on it.”

I wanted to argue that I’d learned the basics many years ago, but it was my first day, so I joined in, feeling a little ridiculous. Manon had been an ice dancer back in the day, so it made sense that she focused on edges and fundamentals. But I could have slept in and skipped this.

After a ton of bubbles, we moved on to edges. Again, this was basic stuff. I peered at Henry tracing an old-fashioned figure eight. They’d abolished compulsory figures at competitions before we were born—thank God—but I bet Henry would have crushed them. I couldn’t imagine how boring it would be to practice these for hours on end.