The very next day, Rose and Susan sat on the wooden benches. They had just laced up their skates. Joe waved to them from the far end of the ice-skating rink. He had just completed a double axel spin. Susan looked at Rose and in a deadpan voice said, “I don’t do that. Just to let you know.”

Rose laughed. “You think I do? Forget it.”

Brianna whizzed by. She wore a black leotard with a little black satin skirt that flared like bat wings. Her neck stretched out. No more rodent, thought Rose. She was a bat on ice, cutting the chill air of the ice rink with her sharp features. Her pointy nose was slightly lifted, as if scanning for prey.

“Hello, girls!” a voice grated behind them.

“Uh-oh!” Susan wheezed. The sound was like a thin stream of air escaping from a punctured balloon. Rose felt Susan deflating as they both turned around and saw Carrie.

“You skate, Rose?” There was an embedded snarl in her voice despite her feeble attempt to sound genuinely curious. “Taking a break from your fashionista life on the internet?”

“I’m not a fashionista.”

“Well, what are you?”

A crafter of fine things, she thought. “I sew,” Rose said softly.

“How sweet.” Now there was a genuinely nasty tinge in her voice.

Carrie went out on the ice and began charging around the ring. “Bulldog on skates,” Rose muttered.

“Hi!” Joe said, skidding to a halt just a few feet from the bench where they sat. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Uh . . . ,” Susan said. “You know, Joe, I’m not so great. I kind of look like a scarecrow on ice . . . like someone stuck me up on a post.” She gave a soft laugh.

“I’ve never seen a scarecrow skate, but sounds interesting. Come on, I’ll help you out.” Susan looked as if she might melt right there. Dissolve with joy into a little puddle with glasses.

“Oh, you guys go. I just got a text from my grandmother. I’ll catch up,” Rose said.

Liar, liar, pants on fire—a text from Gran? Fat chance. But how could she interrupt this romantic moment? She watched Joe take Susan’s elbow lightly and steer her onto the ice. Susan did kind of look like a scarecrow on skates. The cloud of frizzy black hair appeared to tremble ever so lightly. But in another few minutes, maybe three at the most, as they completed their first lap on the rink, Rose saw that Susan was skating with a newfound ease. Joe’s hand was still just lightly on her elbow. But it appeared as if he might hold her hand while skating. Rose saw that Susan’s face was flushed and tentative. A smile threatened to break through. But just at that moment, a neon-blue streak appeared.

“Watch it!” someone yelled. Then the shrill blast from a whistle sounded. Susan and Joe collapsed in a tangle of skates.