Alexis's Cupcake Cupid (5 page)

When I fell down immediately, she was patient. She said, “Okay, so you are beginner.”

I had to laugh, I was so embarrassed. Plus, it was funny how she stated the obvious in her deadpan way. “Yes.” I said, shaking my head. “I am a beginner.” And then I couldn't get up. I had to flip onto my hands and knees like a baby and scrabble up as Sasha tried to lift me. She was much stronger than you would have thought for someone her size. Must've been all that Olympic training.

My legs flailed a little, but when Sasha whispered, “Quick, they come!” I knew who she meant and was immediately grateful. That was all it took to motivate me. I grasped for the edge of the rink and pulled myself into a steady upright position. As the synchronized skaters clomped down the ramp, stepped over the threshold to the ice, and then went gliding like a flock of multicolored swans across a frozen pond, I stood stock-still and watched them go. Only Olivia turned her head to glance back at us as she went by. And her look seemed almost wistful, like I had something she wanted. That would be a first!

As soon as they reached the far end of the rink, Sasha said, “I am sorry. I did not mean to scare you.
But I did not want you down on the ground as they passed.”

“I appreciate it,” I said.

“So you want to skate, why? For exercise?” she asked.

I explained about the Family Skating Party that was being held on Friday. I didn't mention Matt. I didn't really know Sasha, and I felt too shy. “I just want to not make a fool of myself,” I said.
That about covers it, anyway,
I thought.

“Okay,” Sasha began, nodding. “So we will take it from beginning. The ice is slippery. Your skates are not. You are in control of how you move, and you will need every muscle. You can ski?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

I nodded.

“Good. Is very much like skiing,” she said. “We will push skates: right foot out to right, left foot out to left. Beginners always thinking it is forward backward, like shush, shush.” She moved her feet in a straight line, forward and backward, like she was trying to carve the ice. Then she grabbed hold of the side of the rink and showed me what she meant about skiing. “You know when you are on the flat terrain in your skis and you have to get to the lift? You must push the skis out to the side?
Is same motion. Let's see you try it.”

She let go of the side of the rink and pushed away in a perfect, graceful arc. “Here. Give me your hands. I will take you for quick ride to give you a taste. Just relax. I will not let you fall. Now with mean girls here, we have motivation to stay upright. Is good.” She cracked a small smile for the first time and I smiled back.
Yes. Is good motivation,
I thought in a Russian accent.

Sasha took me by the hands and, skating backward, pulled me along on a brisk ride. The wind felt nice on my face, and I could see the appeal of being able to skate well. I couldn't believe she was doing this all backward. Yikes.

“Bend knees a little, chest up, keep skates parallel. Head up,” she instructed, looking back over her shoulder to make sure we wouldn't crash into anyone. “Can you feel the ice through the blades? Is little bit bumpy, no? But feel how good is the glide. Relaxing. Beautiful. Fun. You like it?”

I had to smile. When someone else was doing all the work, ice-skating wasn't half bad. “Yes,” I agreed.

“Good. Now we will teach you to do. Skating is all angles. You like math?” Sasha asked, bringing us back to a stop where we had started.

“I love it,” I said.

She smiled that rare flash of a smile, and nodded. “Good. Think of blade as upside-down U shape.” She cupped her hand and showed me what she meant. “Inside edge is here, outside edge here.” She indicated her thumb for the inside, and then the rest of her fingers for the outside. “You will work from inside edge. Starting position is feet side by side, shoulder-width apart. Angle toes in tiny bit; maybe twenty degrees. Bend knees.” She bounced a little in place, and I lined up my skates, bent my knees, and copied her.

“Good.” She nodded, pleased.

I looked down at my feet in the clunky skates to admire my work.

“Keep chest up, eyes ahead. No looking down at toes!” she commanded.

I whipped my head up and looked straight ahead.

“Yes! Now we will do one push, then glide. Hands out to sides for balancing. Put all weight on left foot. Tip right toe out at forty-five-degree angle, then push out to side like flat skiing. Will start you moving.”

I did as I was told and pushed out to the side, leaving my weight on my left foot. I wobbled as I
began to move, but with my eyes straight ahead, I could see the synchronized girls floating across the ice and ordered myself to stay upright rather than fall.

Sasha was very happy. She clapped her tiny hands. “Yes! Very good student. Do again. Keep pushing just with right foot. Like skateboard. Is okay for now.”

I kept pushing myself along, balancing on the left foot.

“Wait! Stop!” commanded Sasha. She gently held my arm to stop me from moving, and then she skated me over to the wall. “Skates are too loose. Toes must move, ankles must be rigid. Let me retie.” She bent and fiddled with each skate, yanking the laces so hard at the top that I gasped. She looked up. “Sorry. But if skates are not right, then they become enemy working against you, not friend helping.”

I giggled. “I need friends helping. That's for sure.” I pictured the Cupcakers and wished again that they were here. A group lesson would be fun, but maybe we'd laugh too much.

Sasha stood and brushed the ice off her knees. “Okay. Begin again. Weight on left foot. Angle right toe out . . .”

“Forty-five degrees!” I chirped. Numbers were always easy for me to remember.

“Very good memory! Chest up. Push!”

I did it and went gliding again. It felt so good to be moving along under my own steam, even if I was slow and wobbly.

We were working our way around the outer edge of the rink and began to draw closer to the synchronized girls. They were working on a routine now, and skating all together in rows. It was pretty impressive, actually, and they were beautiful skaters: smooth and fluid and very, very steady. I was gliding well on my one foot, but I looked like a total dork with my arms out. As we drew nearer, I decided I'd make it look like I knew what I was doing, so I put my arms down at my sides and kept doing my dumb push with my right foot and glide on my left. At first it felt okay with my arms down. Sasha and I were silent as we drew alongside the girls. They all turned to look at us during a pause in their routine, and as we passed them, my head turned to look back, and it threw me off balance. I lifted my arms to steady myself, but it was too late. My toes began going in different directions, and my legs got all out of control, and I started to frantically windmill my arms to keep from falling.
I went down fast and hit the ice hard on my butt, right in front of all of them. For a moment I wished I could have just disappeared.

I wasn't down more than two seconds before I felt Sasha's strong arms flip me up onto my feet, and she began pulling me away from the girls. They were all looking at me in shock, their jaws hanging open.

Haven't you ever seen a beginner before?
I wanted to yell, but if I opened my mouth, I knew I might cry. I could just imagine how they must be laughing now and shaking their heads at my clumsiness.

Sasha pulled me to the other end of the rink and stopped with a big spray of ice shavings, breathless. “We will not go down there again,” she said. “We can stay down here to work, okay?” She tipped her head kindly and looked at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, willing myself not to cry.

Sasha gave a huge angry huff and pulled back to lean against the boards. She crossed her arms and said quietly, without looking at me, “Those girls, they make fun of my accent—they laugh at how small I am. They are not friendly, not nice. Is okay. I am not here to make friends. But still . . . I am not happy here in beginning, and they are part of problem. Now is better. I see how they are, I avoid
them. I don't know why people are like that. Back home, other skaters help one another. Is like family. Skating is happy for me, but not so much when they are here.” She rocked back and forth on her skates, and two red blotches appeared on her cheeks. “So now we must make you excellent skater. No falling near those girls again, okay?”

I took a deep breath. However mean they were to me, at least I had lots of other friends, and I didn't need to see those mean girls every time I went to do something I loved. “Okay,” I agreed. “I'm sorry they were mean to you. I . . . actually think they're intimidated by you.” I realized it was true as I said it.

Sasha gave a little laugh and a shrug. “Funny way to show respect. In my country, we are humble. We ask people we respect for help. Now. We work again!” She pushed off from the wall, and we began the lesson in earnest, with renewed vigor. I understood we both had something to prove to those synchronized skaters, and we needed each other in order to do it.

Sasha showed me how to push and glide using both feet, transferring my weight from one foot to the other by angling the center point of my chest over my toes, alternating from side to side. I'd bend and push, then glide . . . bend and push, then glide.
It began to feel good. I kept my arms out to the sides for most of the time, but sometimes I'd lower them, just to look normal for a minute, and Sasha would tsk-tsk me. She said I wasn't quite ready and “would cause to falling.”

We spent fifteen minutes on learning to stop, which I hadn't realized was so important until I learned how to glide. Sasha had me hold the wall and work on my snowplow stop, turning one toe in at a forty-five-degree angle and pushing hard on the inner edge of the blade.

By the end of the lesson, Sasha and I were chatting and having a great time. Math was her favorite subject too, and she wanted to be a business major in college, so we had plenty to chat about as I skated (yes, me!). It almost helped to talk while we did it because then I wasn't
too
focused on my feet.

At the very end, with five minutes left, I asked if she would show me something cool that she could do. The ice had emptied out, and there were only a few lone skaters still out, plus the girl gang in their corner. The late afternoon had darkened into evening, and the spotlights were humming brightly overhead.

Sasha looked shy all of a sudden. “Is still your lesson time. Plus, I don't know if there's space.”

“Please? Just a little jump or something?”

Sasha looked at me with her head tipped, then suddenly she took off like a shot, skating hard around the outside edge of the rink at breakneck speed. The power in her strides was astonishing! She could glide on just one push for half the rink, and fast! She did two fast laps of the rink, and as she came around the final lap, she jumped about three feet into the air, did a double turn, and then landed in that figure skating way, with one leg extended back perfectly and her arms flung out to the sides in a perfect line. Then she stopped in front of me with a sharp
shuss!
Her eyes were shining happily.

“Oh, Sasha! That was incredible!” I cried, clapping.

She smiled. “Thank you. You can watch rest on YouTube. Clip from Russian Nationals is on there.”

“Oh, I will! I can't wait! I've never seen someone do that up close and in real life. I can't believe it!” It was like she was another kind of being—more than human. That proficiency and power was awe-inspiring.

Just then, the synchronized team came gliding by, skirts flapping.

“Pretty turn, Sasha!” said Olivia, all worshipful.

Sasha nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment but didn't say anything. They all passed by, and we were silent for a minute.

“Sasha, I can't begin to thank you. That was so fun, and I feel so much better now.”

“Yes, was fun. You are good athlete. Very graceful. You can do this. Just little more practice, and no one will know you just started.”

We exited the rink carefully, me clutching the side of the rink like a drowning swimmer, but at least I didn't fall. Clomping up the ramp, I admitted, “There's a boy I like, who's going to be at the skating party on Friday, so . . .”

Sasha turned to grin at me. “Is even better motivation than mean girls!”

I grinned back. “I know.”

My mom was inside the clubhouse when we got to the top, and I introduced Sasha, and they chatted as I untied my skates and returned them. Leaving, we said good-bye to Sasha, who had another lesson waiting, and impulsively, I gave her a hug. She returned it with a tight squeeze.

“Good luck, Alexis. Come back and visit, okay? You will do great on Friday,” she said, holding me by my shoulders and giving me a tiny shake.

“Thanks. It was a blast. I'll see you soon,” I said.

Walking out, my mom and I fell in with Olivia Allen, which was a major buzzkill.

“You are so lucky,” said Olivia, awestruck. “How did you ever get her to work with you? She's like . . . a professional. An Olympian.”

I looked Olivia straight in the eye. “I just called up, I told you. But you know what? She's really nice and really lonely. You should try talking to her sometime.” And then I headed to our car, with Olivia still standing there in the parking lot, biting her lip and thinking.