STEALING GOLD
by
Leanna Kay
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Leanna Kay on Smashwords
Stealing Gold
Copyright © 2011 by Leanna Weissmann
Smashwords Edition License Notes
IN MY WORDS
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CHAPTER ONE
“McPherson!”
Uh oh. My boss probably yelled “Lily” a hundred times before he used my last name. When I skated, the rink could fall down around me and I’d never notice.
“Coming.” I sped up for a triple toe jump. After I’d closed the concession stand for the night, I headed straight for the ice to enjoy some alone time. Now that I had an audience, I was gonna nail the jump and add an extra rotation just for fun.
“There’s a cop here to see you,” Jack yelled.
Cop?
A hard rock settled into my stomach as I glanced at my skates. How did they know? The store alarm hadn’t gone off and I hadn’t seen any security cameras. But Jack said cop. In mere moments, I’d be spending the rest of my entire life behind bars.
Okay, they’d probably let me out when I turned eighteen. Same as forever. In the next two years, I planned to get my driver’s license, have my first kiss, and graduate high school. You couldn’t do any of those things in the slammer. Well, maybe you could. But the yearbook pictures would stink so much you’d have to burn them.
Act normal.
I dug the front blade of my left skate into the ice and jerked upwards for a spin, knowing as soon as my blade lifted that I didn’t have enough speed. Gravity won and my pathetic lift ended in a butt-soaking backwards splat onto the ice.
“Lily! You okay?” Jack rubbed a hand through thick black hair similar enough to my own that people who didn’t know better assumed he was my dad.
“Nothing hurt but my pride.” I stood up and brushed the bits of shaved ice from my sore behind.
“The cop’s waiting in my office.” Jack’s eyes followed me as I exited the ice. I knew why people thought he was my dad. Jack treated me with the kind of concern a father naturally shows for a daughter. He constantly asked if my homework was done and had I eaten all my vegetables?
“Since when is a ‘D’ in Algebra an arresting sort of offense?” I kept my tone light, but my comment didn’t get the intended reaction. Jack’s face took on that “poor Lily” expression I’d seen from everybody at Dad’s funeral.
“You don’t need to be a smart mouth,” he said softly.
Jack tended to be right about everything. But not about this. I did need to be a smart mouth. A black ball of sadness settled inside me the day my dad died. I couldn’t let my bitterness spread from the inside out or else I’d lose myself to the blackness. My smart mouth served as my body’s stress release valve.
“The cop’s here about your mom.”
Mom? That meant she was in the hospital again. Or worse. My heart hammered in my chest as Jack added, “I’ll keep praying for her.”
Good. Things weren’t any worse than usual.
“Thanks.” I’d stopped believing in the power of prayer a long time ago, but Jack seemed to think God could really walk on water. Far be it for me to be the shadow blocking his Christian rainbow. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away.
Plopping my bruised butt on the nearest bench, I undid my laces at lightning speed and ripped the skates off my feet, dropping them onto the floor as I put on my shoes. I took a deep breath and walked across the worn carpeting, stopping at Jack’s office door.
Before I touched the doorknob, Jack’s nephew, Michael rushed up to me. I thought he’d already left to attend the college Bible study group he constantly blabbed about. I braced myself to hear more meaningless Christian mumbo jumbo.
Michael surprised me by just offering practical help. “Let me know if I need to take over any of your shifts, okay?”
I nodded. I mumbled a quick, “thanks” as he took off down the hallway, presumably to total up the money for the night.
Opening the door, I peered into Jack’s office. “Shawn?” My dad’s former partner rose from Jack’s rickety chair. They’d sent Shawn to find me? Oh crap. Crap. Double crap. Triple crap.
“Sit down, Lillian.” Shawn gestured to the cracked leather chair, but I froze in the doorway, staring at him with my hand gripping that stupid doorknob like it was covered in superglue.
Why did they have to send Shawn? I hated him. I hated the way he called me Lillian instead of Lily like everyone else. I hated the way he looked at me with pity in his eyes. But mostly I hated Shawn for still being alive when my dad was dead.
“Come on, Lillian. Have a seat.” Shawn’s cheeks flamed as bright as his red hair. His tall, bony body dwarfed Jack’s chair as he took a hand out of the pocket of his uniform trousers and pointed to the seat.
“I need to know about my mom. Tell me now.”
“She’s okay,” Shawn said. “She had to go to the hospital and she wanted me to tell you so you didn’t go home and worry.”
“That’s it?”
He gave me a half smile. “You’re direct and to the point, aren’t you? Just like your ...” He coughed and looked away.
I was just like my dad in a lot of ways. Maybe that explained why I still missed him more than I could admit to anyone.
I hated the tears burning the back of my eyes so I focused my thoughts on Mom. “They’re keeping her?”
Shawn nodded.
“It’s worse this time?”
He stood at the tiny window to the side of the office, staring out into the parking lot with such intensity I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a five-eyed purple alien walking around out there. I could tell by the stiffening of his back that I’d hit the mark. Not on the purple aliens, but on how sick my mom was. I’d have preferred a full-blown invasion from outer space.
Shawn nodded as he turned to face me.
“Are they finally putting her on the transplant list?” I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice. The kid in me wanted to believe the adults would find my mom the heart she needed. But I hadn’t felt like a kid for a long, long time. Not since my mom had to quit working and my paycheck went to buy groceries.“She’s not on the list yet.” Shawn’s tone sounded falsely eager. “But that doesn’t mean she won’t be by tomorrow.”
“She will be. Even if I have to go to the hospital administrator’s office and chain myself to her desk.” I drew in a deep breath. “Raisa Warren’s met her match.”
Sad that a kid my age knew the first name of the hospital administrator. That thought gave me courage. I might be a five-foot weakling with the ability to intimidate absolutely no one. With my pale skin, long dishwater blonde hair and blue eyes, I looked more like a fragile doll than a heavyweight fighter. But I’d turn into a stupid ninja if that’s what it took to save my mom.
“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Shawn offered.
I huffed out an angry breath. I’d rather hitchhike a ride with an axe murderer than spend ten more minutes with this clown. But who knew how long it would take to find an axe murderer with a car and a driver’s license.
I stalked out of the office and headed for the exit without looking to see if the guy was following. I made it halfway across the parking lot before I realized I’d left my skates behind. I ran back in and grabbed the skates, cradling them carefully in my arms like a newborn kitten.
As I went outside, I wished I had a fairy godmother who would just wave a magical wand and bibbety bobbity boo my life out of the crapper. But there was no magic for me. When I got back to the parking lot, the only one waiting was Shawn. He certainly wasn’t a fairy godmother. Nor was he an axe murderer or a five-eyed purple alien. Even though I wished he was.
CHAPTER TWO
Shawn let me out by the turn-around in front of the hospital. He wanted to come in, but I told him I’d be okay and then I bolted before he could argue.
“Lily!” My best friend yelled from the middle of the entryway, earning a glare from the grumpy pink smocked lady who manned the front desk. Last time I tried to bring my mom a cappuccino, that woman had stopped me cold.
As Emily launched herself in my direction, the pink lady harrumphed and muttered something about a hospital not being a playground. Tell me about it.
My best friend was five-feet-six inches of pure power, and she almost knocked me off my feet with her hug. “I never thought you’d get here. Your grandma called and I came right away.”
Emily pulled away from the hug and continued to babble without taking a breath. “This stinks so bad. It’s just not fair. Your mom will be okay. She has to be. So she will be. That’s all there is to it.”
I’d hated Emily’s motor mouth when we met three years ago in grief counseling. Her dad died in a freak construction accident and she yapped about her feelings so much I wanted to beat her over the head with the group’s wooden talking stick. But apparently using the stick for whacking purposes violated some consecrated rule of therapy. Geez, it wasn’t like I’d been completely serious when I’d suggested it. Grief counselors have no sense of humor.
“Take a breath.” I gently poked Emily on the shoulder. I’d gotten over the urge to whack her when I realized beneath her yappy exterior existed a really kind person.
“Want me to go to your mom’s room with you?”
“That’s okay, Em. I’m actually going upstairs first to leave a note for Ms. Warren.”
“Oh.” We’d talked about my mom’s predicament enough that I didn’t need to tell Emily who Raisa Warren was. “Need some nasty names to call the woman?” She shot me a small grin as if testing the waters to make sure I could handle a joke.
I hated that she thought she needed to be careful around me. I wanted to get back to the constant joking we’d done before my mom got sick. I wanted to hang out with my best friend without her feeling like she had to call the grief hotline on me. I wanted normal again.
Normal wasn’t in my vocabulary, but since “smart mouth” was, I replied, “Maggot-brain? Slime-meister? I have a hundred more, but a sticky note is only so big.”
“Use the entire notepad if you have to.” Emily hugged me again and trailed me down the hallway until I insisted I was okay. She left and I went in search of Ms. Warren’s office.
I knew she wouldn’t be here at eight-thirty on a Tuesday night. I’d never met the woman, but I’d pictured her as a humorless clock-watcher who followed every rule. My mom only represented a number to Ms. Warren – nothing more than a patient whose treatment cut into the hospital’s bottom line.
I’d make the woman see my mom the way I did. Maybe Ms. Warren would work harder at getting Mom on the transplant list if she knew Mom made the most awesome meatless spaghetti sauce or that she pitched a baseball so fast even my little brother Kenny couldn’t hit it. Kenny needed her. He’d gotten the lead role in the second grade play and she was the only one who could sew his Wizard of Recycling costume.
I turned the corner to the administration offices, surprised to see the door still open with a light blazing from inside. The glow came from a small green banker’s lamp. My dad had a light exactly like that in the spare room in our old house. Funny how simple things triggered such intense memories. Staring at the lamp, my mind flew back to the past.
***
“Hello, Lillian. I thought you’d be dreaming by now.”Dad glanced up from his desk, the soft glow from the green banker’s light making him look too kind to bust bad guys.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Practicing triple toe loops in your head, sweetie?”
“Maybe.” In truth, I’d been listening for his car to pull into the garage. A few months ago, a cop had been killed during a car chase and we’d gone to the funeral. I hadn’t told anyone, but I’d been having nightmares ever since.
“Might as well come in and talk to me then.” Dad patted his lap. At ten, I was really too old to sit there, but that didn’t stop me. I worried so much about him it only seemed right to lay my head on his chest.
“Daddy, are you ever scared of dying?” This was the closest I could come to admitting how much I worried.
My dad held me close and rubbed my back. “Sweetie, I’m not afraid to die. Death’s a part of life. Every living thing stops breathing eventually. I’m not afraid because I’m a great guy. That means I’ll be going straight to Heaven.” He chuckled. “Actually, I’m so perfect God will probably put me in charge of all the angels.”
I giggled and he squeezed me before speaking again, this time his voice sounded serious. “If I die, I’ll still be your biggest fan. I’ll be up in Heaven giving you an extra lift for your triple toe loops.”
I snuggled against him and yawned. “If you’re in charge up there, you think you could send me a few cheeseburgers, extra meat?”
“The meatiest.” He hugged me. “Only you’re gonna have to turn vegetarian because I’m not gonna die.”
***
He’d been so sure I’d actually believed him. But he’d died anyway and I hadn’t eaten a double cheeseburger since.The sound of footsteps tapping on the tile floor snapped me back to the present.
“Hello?” A tall, thin woman with messy brownish-red curls raised her eyebrows in my direction. Her make-up was practically gone and she wore the kind of soft green sweater perfect for snuggling inside with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa. The woman’s kind eyes told me she could be trusted with my darkest secrets.
“Oh, hi.” I gave her a genuine smile. “Could I leave a note for Raisa Warren?”
“No need. I am this Raisa Warren,” the woman said with a heavy foreign accent.
This was Maggot Brain? All my carefully planned speeches flew from my head as tears flooded my eyes and a sob escaped. “Please don’t let my mom die.”
CHAPTER THREE
Ms. Warren actually hugged me. We talked for a long time and I even spilled my guts about how Dad’s death ended my dreams of being a competitive skater. Losing my mom would be too much. I think she understood because something sparked in her eyes and I left her office feeling hopeful.
I trotted down to Mom’s room and bitter reality slapped me in the face. Grandma Doris sat next to Mom’s bed, holding a fork which she lifted to Mom’s mouth. Was Mom so weak she couldn’t even feed herself?
“Hi, honey.” Grandma waved me into the room with the kind of over-the-top enthusiasm adults use to pretend all is wonderful when you’re really about to take a slow boat up Swamp River.
“Hi.” I hugged Mom and almost lost it when I felt her body tremble. She patted the side of her mattress, inviting me to sit down as she pushed the tray of food away.
I cuddled in close. “If you needed a vacation, all you had to do was ask.” Sometime in the last two years, I’d found my own fake enthusiastic voice.
“Oh, Lily.” Mom obviously heard the tears behind my words because she laid a comforting hand on my leg and squeezed gently. “You’re always worrying about me. Concentrate on your schoolwork and your job. Everything will be fine.”
I grinned. “I saw Ms. Warren a few minutes ago. She put you on the transplant list.”
“Praise God.” Grandma reached up to touch her cross necklace.
I quickly hid my grimace. My childlike image of God as a grand protector shattered the day we’d buried Dad. I hadn’t prayed much since because, really, what was the point? Obviously God was too busy to bother with Lily McPherson.
“How did you get Ms. Warren to add your mom to the list?”
The awe in Grandma’s voice perked me up. I shrugged like it was no big deal, and I certainly didn’t mention the sobbing and begging. “She just did.”
We talked for a bit longer until my mom told me to go home and do my homework. I gave her a hug and left the room. But as I walked toward the hospital exit, I remembered Kenny’s wizard costume.
He was only seven. He needed some normal in his life. I could read to him and help with his homework, but I was all thumbs with a sewing needle. Maybe Mom might have some suggestions on a costume she could help me make.
When I got close to Mom’s room, Grandma’s raised voice stopped me in my tracks. “Don’t talk like that.”
I hesitated in the hallway, not wanting to spy but unable to help myself as I heard my mom’s voice. “We have to face facts. Lily won’t be old enough to take custody of Kenny for two more years. I might not live that long.”
“Stop thinking like that.” Grandma’s harsh response echoed out into the hallway. “We’ll get you that transplant.”
“If we don’t…”
Dropping to my knees, I hugged my chest, trying not to make a sound. Mom’s tone was matter of fact. Like she’d accepted death and was okay with it.
I wasn’t.
I’d known my mom’s condition was serious and I knew deep down she could die. I clung to that one word – “could.” She didn’t have to treat death as the only possibility. Hearing her calmly discussing her own death set off a firestorm inside me.
Keep fighting. I’d have run into the room and screamed the words, but I couldn’t have taken seeing the resignation on my mom’s face.
Keep fighting until you get your new heart. I gasped for air as I heard Mom calmly talking about custody arrangements and wills as if asking Grandma to pick up items at the grocery store.
I couldn’t take this. It made her death seem likely. Inevitable even. I could deal with “could.” I couldn’t deal with inevitable.
I fled from the hospital, driven by a black ball of fear which rooted deep inside me and churned to anger. I’d lost so much and it had all started with my dad’s death.
Stupid Robinsons Supercenter.
I couldn’t stop myself from hopping on a city bus and taking it to the nearest Robinsons Supercenter to do the one awful thing I just couldn’t seem to control.
***
Shoplifting gave me an adrenaline surge which I sometimes disguised as happiness. But the next day, I always felt guilty. It wasn’t like I even needed the skate laces I’d lifted from Robinsons the night before.
“Lillian!”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
If Mr. Tuttle had reached that decibel, he must have called my name repeatedly. As a teacher, Mr. Tuttle was about as dull as the subject he taught – earth sciences. He dressed in browns and greens as if there might be some school policy requiring him to appear in earth tones.
“Lily. Can you tell us what’s special about the single-celled amoeba?”
The answer had probably been in yesterday’s homework which I hadn’t done. Instead I’d lain in bed with my little brother and listened to him read aloud from his favorite dinosaur book. If Mr. Turtle had seen Kenny’s scared little face, he’d have done the same thing.
I looked down at my Earth Sciences book, hoping the information would jump out at me. And it might have - if my book hadn’t been opened to last week’s lesson on crustaceans. Just as I was about to admit defeat, the answer came sliding to me in the form of a note from Justin, the cutest guy at Redelle High.
They reproduce by splitting.Well that sounded good enough that I said it out loud.
“Great answer.” Mr. Tuttle blinked in confusion, probably surprised I’d gotten it right. Emily caught my eye from the next table over and winked.
“Thanks,” I whispered to Justin as the bell rang. The sound should have been my cue to stop staring. As if that were even possible. Justin’s had these soulful brown eyes the color of hot cocoa. Even though his naturally curly brown hair was cut short, he had this one loose curl that rested gently on his forehead and peeked out of his helmet when he played football. He was backup quarterback for the varsity team, destined to be the star by his senior year.
Justin stopped piling his books into his book bag and turned to me. Embarrassed to have been caught staring at him like a stalker, I looked away.
“Did I hear about your mom being back in the hospital?” His warm voice was as irresistible as hot fudge dribbling down the side of a sundae.
I turned back to him and nodded, reminding myself he wasn’t trying to impress me. Between Dad dying and Mom being so sick, everyone at school had been at at least one fundraiser to benefit our family. All I needed was a leg amputation and I’d be permanently implanted in everyone’s memory.
“I’ll help raise money for her surgery.” His offer was so unexpected I stared at him like a brainless idiot. “We could dedicate one of our football games to her.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, always feeling like an idiot when we shared the same oxygen molecules.
We stood for a moment, not saying anything until Justin finally grabbed his backpack gave me a quick wave and walked off in his ultra-cool way.
“He likes you.” Emily elbowed me in a way that made me jump because I hadn’t seen her come up behind me.
“He feels sorry for me.” I trusted Emily with the truth.
“No way. I’ll bet he’s working up the nerve to ask you to the homecoming dance.” Emily bounced on her heels as she walked as if her body couldn’t contain the excitement of me having a date.
“By then he’ll be dating the homecoming queen and I’ll be forgotten unless I’m lucky enough to be in a disfiguring lunchroom accident.” I was only partly joking.
“Stop it.” Emily swatted my shoulder, even though she was smiling.
I much preferred this to her careful attitude at the hospital, so I kept at it. “Maybe I’ll get my hand caught on the tray return table. Or if I’m lucky, I’ll slip in a puddle of pudding and break my nose on a chair. My fame is built on bad luck.”
Emily waved her hand in front of my face as if shooing away an annoying fly. “I’ll bet after the homecoming dance, he’ll want to be your steady boyfriend. And then by Christmas, you’ll be the cutest couple in the whole school.”
Emily babbled on about my bright future. She didn’t even take a breath when I mentioned the possibility I’d get food poisoning from the fish nuggets. But I didn’t care because she’d given me my first real smile in days. Reaching out, I spontaneously hugged my friend. Emily cut off talking mid-sentence and stopped in the hallway, making the line of other students go around us.
As she returned my hug, she held me tightly without bouncing on her heels or fidgeting. When she spoke, her voice was soft and serious. “It’s gonna be okay, Lily.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The rink was quiet when I arrived for my shift after school. I spent almost an hour looking longingly at the ice before Jack came over to the concession stand and freed me.
“Go ahead and shut up shop here. You can hit the ice when you’re finished.”
I would have kissed him on the cheek if I hadn’t thought the gesture would embarrass him. I cleaned out the nacho cheese container, put the candy bars back in the cooler, and wiped down the soda machine. In less than ten minutes, I was in the center of the ice, ready to skate.
I had this pre-skating ritual that I’d never told anyone about, not even Emily. I always look up to the ceiling and touch my bluebird bracelet to my heart, hoping in some way to send a message to my dad. People would probably think I was stupid if they knew. But at least my ritual didn’t involve anything bizarre like goat’s milk, sheep’s blood, or hair plucked from an ox tail. I wasn’t the bizarre, crazy kind of weird that scared people. Yippee for me.
Pre-skating ritual complete, I went for speed as I thought about my mom. Even though Ms. Warren put her on the transplant list, Mom might never get the heart she needed. My blade hit the ice at an angle, sending ice shards spinning off the side of my skate.
Transplants were expensive. Lots of people needed them and hospitals couldn’t do them for free.
I wobbled into another jump.
Stop it. Today, I needed to lose myself on the ice. I’d worry about Mom later. I dug my skate into the ice and lifted off, making myself soak in the joy of being airborne. I spun into the most amazing Salchow I’d ever done.
The adrenaline pumped through my body and I wanted more. I lifted for a triple toe jump, which I landed flawlessly, thank you very much. The triple toe jump was one of the key elements you needed to win competitions.
I’d burned the rules into my brain by watching Olympic tapes as religiously as Jack watched the Praise Network. I sped up and lifted for a jump. The music - I usually skated to Bach - floated in my head as I lifted off for a triple jump, landing it so cleanly my blade probably hadn’t left a mark on the ice.
The music in my mind wound down. I slowed for a soft ending as I swooped into a circle and bowed just like I’d done many times as a competitive skater. I was so wrapped up in the moment that I even thought I heard applause.
“Your skating. It is beautiful.” The applause was real. Raisa Warren stood on the side of the ice, cheering loudly enough that Donnie, the rink’s janitor, turned to stare at us.
I’d babbled to Ms. Warren about my job and my competitive skating days. But I’d never thought she’d stop by the rink.
“Thanks.” I blushed as I skated toward her, stopping at the edge of the ice to lean on the wooden divider.
“I came to see your skating and to speak to you about your mama.” Ms. Warren ran her fingers roughly through her tousled hair. “No one need die if she can be saved.”
Was I mistaken, or did I see tears in Ms. Warren’s eyes? She blinked, confirming my suspicions. “Someone I loved very much died senselessly a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure they’re up in heaven…” I clamped my mouth shut, realizing how ineffective those words had been when we’d buried my dad.
Ms. Warren nodded abruptly in the same way I did when I wanted to move away from a subject. “Your skating. It gives me an idea to help your mama. Would you consider competing again?”
I let my mind change gears as the idea rolled around in my head. Competing again? That would be a dream come true. An impossible dream. I hated to burst Ms. Warren’s bubble, but even if I won a dozen skating contests, I wouldn’t get enough money to make a dent in Mom’s medical bills. Frowning, I shared that thought with Ms. Warren.
“Well, no. Of course not. Competition is not to win prize money.” Ms. Warren paused, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. “My sister, she once trained to compete in the Olympics. I know quite a bit about the competitions and you’re good. You could get to nationals.”
I resisted the urge to puff out my chest and ask her to repeat the compliment a thousand times until I believed it. “Thank you,” I said instead.
“You compete to get press coverage. If you skate to nationals, you will be on the TV. Imagine the news story. Girl skating for her mother’s life. You’d glide into the hearts of everyone in America. Think of the money we’d raise.” Ms. Warren grinned like she’d just cured cancer and ended world hunger. “Even better, we’d raise awareness about organ donation. More organs mean a better chance to find a match for your mama.”
My heart beat faster because what she said made sense. I could compete again without feeling guilty because I’d be doing something productive for my mom. I took in an excited breath as I thought about everything I needed to get back on the circuit. Costume. Music. Skating coach.
“Wait.” I held up my hand to stop Ms. Warren’s enthusiastic planning of my future. “I don’t have a coach.”
Ms. Warren took my hands in her own and squeezed. “That is no problem. I know of someone. She has been retired for many years, but she will help you. I just know she will. You come by my office tomorrow at six and I will have her there for you to meet. Sound good?”
Good? It sounded wonderful.
***
I hadn’t been this excited since I was seven, dreaming of the Girl’s Club Rocking Party House I’d asked Santa to bring. That Christmas morning, I crept out of my room early, giddy with excitement when I saw my dream present under the tree. I felt like that eager kid as I made my way to the hospital administration offices a full half hour early.
I walked toward Ms. Warren’s office, stopping when I heard raised voices. For the second time in the same week, I found myself with my body pressed up against the wall, listening. I hadn’t intended to become a serial eavesdropper, but this argument was about me.
“Lily needs you. You must help.”
“Nyet.” A woman answered in Russian.
“Ilsa, let us speak English please. Good to practice.”
“You want to hear it in another language?” The rude Ilsa person responded in a no-nonsense tone. “I say again. No. No. A thousand times no. I am retired from skating.” She stretched the word “retired” out into five syllables.
I blinked my eyes furiously to keep the tears from forming. A thousand times no? This was the person Ms. Warren had found to coach me? Someone who’d rather be having a root canal than messing with me?
“Ilsa, you have plenty of energy in you. Stop being retired.”
“Nyet.”
I shrank farther into the wall.
“Don’t you sit there and nyet me. You will make a better life for this girl. Does that not matter to you anymore?” Ms. Warren used the type of begging voice I’d been known to whip out when Kenny didn’t want to go to bed on time.
“It may matter to someone. Not to me,” Ilsa barked in a way that would have had me shaking in my shoes had I been in the same room. A lone tear trickled from the corner of my eye.
“You say she has had no coach for three years, yes?” Ilsa retorted in a voice completely lacking in warmth. “She will lose at the regional competition.”
My chest deflated as the bitter truth slapped me in the face. Watching skaters on TV wasn’t the same as working with a coach. And though I practiced every minute I could, the other competitors probably spent most of their days on the ice.
“I will not waste time on a charity person,” Ilsa added in a tone that would easily have landed her the part of the Wicked Witch of the West.
“Yes, you will.” The frigid edge to Ms. Warren’s voice might have been just the bucket of cold water needed to melt the witch. “You will because you know what it is like to be an orphan and you can stop that from happening to this girl. Also you owe me a favor.”
I wanted to run into the room and tell them to stop talking about me. I wanted to tell them I didn’t need anyone’s help. I could enter the competitions without any coaching. One thing kept me rooted to the ground. Mom.
“You are not acting fair.” Ilsa’s voice lost some of its edge. “The things that happened back in the old country, we should forget.”
“I cannot,” Ms. Warren said.
“Nor can I,” Ilsa added with a sigh.
“Ilsa, this girl needs you. You have coached a skater to the Olympics. You could do it again.”
“I will coach this Lily,” Ilsa said with clear reluctance in her voice. “Because I owe you. I will coach this girl until she loses the first competition.”
Nice confidence in my abilities. I’d just have to impress her with my talent. Maybe then she’d want to coach me.
A glance at my watch told me it was time for me to make my entrance. Tiptoeing back to the foyer, I stomped loudly as I walked down the hallway to Ms. Warren’s opened door.
“Hi Lily.” Ms. Warren smiled when she saw me at the door. “Please meet Ilsa Petrovich.”
Ilsa Petrovich looked like a movie star. Her graying brown hair curled carefully under her red velvet hat which matched her stylish velvet pantsuit. Her makeup appeared as though professionally applied even if the red of her lipstick could have stopped traffic. She presented an elegant enough appearance to impress all the skating judges. As long as she didn’t open her mouth and start spewing out all that ugliness.
I reached out my hand and Ilsa waited a few long seconds before touching my fingers quickly enough to make me wonder if I had cooties.
“You may call me Madame Ilsa,” she said in a snooty voice that said I was in for a difficult time.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Hey, Lil-yee.” Donnie might have trouble pronouncing my name, but he had more kindness and compassion than most people with double his IQ.
I settled Kenny on a bench near the ice with a new dinosaur book as Donnie parked his vacuum and made his way across the rink’s faded red carpet. Jack had kindly agreed to give me as much ice time as I needed to train.
“Hi Ken-yee.” Donnie thrust out his meaty left hand. He was the only right-handed person I knew who always led with his left. Kenny smiled at Donnie and shook hands with him like they were both fully grown men.
“Lil-yee, I made you something.” Donnie blushed as he reached into the pocket of his bib overalls. Fishing around, he pulled out a multi-colored wad of string which he handed to me with a grin. With his buck teeth and crookedly parted hair, Donnie was anything but handsome. But he always had a smile and that made all the difference.
“Thanks Donnie.” I tried to untangle the knotted mess of string.
“It’s a necklace.”
“I see.” Yep, there were some beads wadded in there. Donnie took the necklace from my hand and patiently fixed it before handing the jewelry back to me. I put the necklace right over my head, gently lifting the string under my ponytail so it wouldn’t break. “It’s really pretty, Donnie. Thank you.”
“I’m selling them.” Donnie’s chest puffed out in apparent pride.
“Oh.” Was I supposed to pay him? Donnie was a nice guy, but because of his disability, I wasn’t always sure how to take what he said.
“Jack said I could sell them at the food stand for a dollar each.”
I wondered if Jack’s nephew, Michael, had approved that business deal. A freshman in business school, Michael was always looking for ways to save money - like by turning off the cooling system at night. That little stunt meant we’d had to skate in slush for three days while the ice re-froze.
“Okay. I’ll pay you.” I reached under the bench for my purse, but Donnie laid his hand over mine.
“No, yours is free. Everyone else gots to pay a dollar.” Donnie’s chest puffed out even more. “I’m gonna give you the money so you can buy your mama a new heart.”
I blinked back tears at the simple gesture from a simple man with a pure heart. He’d probably raise all of fifty dollars and spend a hundred hours doing it. His efforts represented a drop in the proverbial bucket, but it was one of the most generous things anyone had ever done for me.
“Thanks Donnie.” I couldn’t help my choked-up tone.
Donnie patted my shoulder in the rough way a three-year-old pets a dog. “It’s okay, Lil-yee. People like the necklaces. I sold five already today.” Donnie walked back to his vacuum. I watched him for a minute before I forced myself to swallow the tears and finish tying the laces on my skates.
“Lily.”
I startled as Michael walked up, looking like he’d sucked down a case of lemons. Glancing at Kenny, he motioned for me to move out of my little brother’s earshot. “There’s an old woman asking for you.”
It had to be Madame Ilsa. My heart pounded with excitement. Not only was she here for our session, she was ten minutes early. Maybe she’d decided she wanted to coach me after all.
Michael’s voice dropped. “I think she’s drunk. Should I throw her out?”
“What?” I jerked my head around until I spotted Madame Ilsa dressed in an elegant green suede pantsuit with a matching hat, slowly making her way across the carpeting. With her make-up perfectly applied and her hair neatly curled, she looked almost like a queen. Except for the fact that she was glassy-eyed and wobbled with every step she took. Of course she might have been partially unbalanced by the big purse hanging off her left shoulder. From the size of the thing, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole football team from Redelle High School popped out.
“Should I call her a cab?” Michael asked.
“That’s my new skating coach.” Another lump formed in my throat. “I’m going to start competing again.” I gave Michael a tight smile. “By this time next year I’ll have won the Olympics and have my face on a cereal box.”
Or been sworn in as the first teen-aged President of the United States. Or helped fight off a shipload of five-eyed purple and green aliens. Any of those things was far more likely than me winning any skating competitions with a drunken coach. The hope flew out of my chest like a hundred white doves freed from their cages.
“You’re definitely good enough to end up on a cereal box,” Michael said as if this were an accepted fact. How would he know? His head was usually stuck so deep in a calculator that I doubted he knew a triple toe jump from a Sowchal.
“Thanks,” I murmured and Michael grinned. When he smiled like this, his whole face lit up and his blue eyes softened, making my heart flutter. I could see why all those college girls were constantly dropping by the rink asking for him.
“How did you end up with a coach like, like ... like that?” Michael whispered as Madame Ilsa strolled our way. She stumbled over the bare patch on the carpeting and slowly righted herself.
“She’s not charging me.” My throat was too choked with emotion to say more.
He started to reach a hand out, but before he could touch me, he pulled it back and nodded. “Well, wave if you need me to toss her out.” Michael walked away like a man who knew where he was going. I watched him until he disappeared into Jack’s office. Not because I’d just now noticed his cute butt. I was just avoiding Madame Ilsa.
“Miss Lillian,” Madame Ilsa greeted me. The words were less slurred than I’d anticipated.
“It’s Lily,” I said tightly.
“Surely Lily is not on your birth certificate, no?”
I shook my head.
“We shall use Lillian then.”
“No.” I couldn’t stand to have this drunken woman call me the same special name as my dad.
“Goodbye then.” Madame Ilsa slowly pivoted toward the door.
I wanted to wring her neck. I wanted to spit in her face and tell her that I would never answer to Lillian. I wanted to rip off her hat and shove it down her throat.
But then I thought about my mom. I couldn’t let my stubbornness cost us her life.
“Wait. Please,” I called out to her back. “You can call me whatever you want.”
She turned slowly and said with an accented slur. “That is right. I am the coach. I am the boss. Get me a chair. I will sit near the ice and watch.”
I wanted to get her a chair all right. One covered in nails or tacks or knives would be about right. But I did what she asked even though I had to walk sideways across the carpeting since I’d already put on my skates. I’d just grabbed a folding chair from Jack’s office when the door to the rink opened and Justin walked in along with three other players from the football team. They were all dressed in their uniforms. From the dirt on their knees and arms, they’d probably just finished practice.
Justin walked right up to me and smiled. “Hi Lily. I wanted to stop by and tell you something.”
I almost dropped the folding chair. Here was the cutest boy in the whole high school and he was looking for me! My heart beat a fast rhythm and I was sure my cheeks were as red as cherries.
“Hi,” I tried to say, but it came out sounding like a breathy sigh.
“The team voted and we decided to collect money for your mom at the October 1st game. The coach approved it so it’s a go,” Justin said as the other players walked a few feet away to the snack bar.
“Thanks.” I stared at Justin like an idiot as the silence between us lengthened.
“How’s the fundraising going?” Justin finally asked.
I shrugged. “Slowly.” Why couldn’t I think of more than one word at a time when Justin was around?
“Okay. Well, I guess we’ll see you later.” Justin waved and went up to the other players at the snack bar. They were laughing about something. I looked over and saw Austin Tyler holding up one of Donnie’s necklaces.
“Looks like something a kid made at summer camp.” Justin laughed.
My heart clenched and I wanted to set them straight, but with my new limited vocabulary I wasn’t sure I could.
“Is that the quarterback?” Kenny asked me. I hadn’t even realized he was standing at my elbow until he spoke.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Wow.” Kenny stared at the football players. His gaze made my heart sick. Just this year Kenny started looking at older guys with hero worship in his eyes. It was times like this I knew he needed a guy in his life.
Justin and the gang breezed past us, waving to me and ignoring Kenny as they hit the door. For Kenny’s sake, I wished one of them would have at least said “hi.” But Kenny didn’t seem too bothered because as soon as the football players were gone, he headed back over to the bench to read his book.
“Be careful.” Michael must have just come out of his office.
“The chair’s really not heavy.” I lifted the folding chair and started back to where Madame Ilsa motioned at me to speed things up.
“Not about the chair. About Justin.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you looking at him.”
Was I that obvious?
Michael nervously fiddled with the top button on his dark blue polo shirt. “He’s a player.”
I blinked and stared.
“With the girls,” Michael added as he fidgeted with his shirt. “He doesn’t treat them in a Christian manner.”
“How do you know that?” I tried to make my tone as annoyed as possible, but it came out a little less forceful than I’d intended.
“I was head statistician for the football team last year. Remember?”
Actually I’d forgotten. Michael seemed so much older than me it was hard to remember that he’d been a high school senior last year when I’d been a freshman.
Michael grimaced. “Justin thinks he’s a lady’s man.”
I was trying to think of a good comment to put Michael in his place. So what if he had a reputation? If Justin liked me, I wasn’t going to complain about stuff from his past. There were good, moral people in the world who didn’t lead Bible study groups and go to church all the time.
“Lillian.” Madame Ilsa’s annoyed voice rang through the ice rink. “Must I wait until I die for a chair?”
I rolled my eyes as I walked past Michael and took Madame Ilsa her chair. Michael Watkins was a know-it-all who should just mind his own business. I grabbed a small carpet pad and placed it under the chair just inside the rink so Madame Ilsa wouldn’t fall on the ice. Not that I really cared, but Jack didn’t need to be sued.
Madame Ilsa sat down and opened her huge bag, rooting around like she was looking for buried treasure. Geez, did she have a bottle of Vodka in there?
“Here, you take these.” She fished out a pair of five-pound hand weights. “You skate with those. Do all the jumps you know.”
“Why?” I stared at the hand weights.
“You ask too many questions. Go. Skate.”
I was so caught off guard, I did what she said. As I gained speed for my first jump, the silly weights seemed like rocks in my hands. I lost my balance, stumbled, and landed on my butt.
I heard Madame Ilsa whispering something under her breath in Russian. I didn’t know the words, but I saw her eyes rolling. Witch. There was a reason you never saw skaters holding hand weights during competition. It’s impossible to jump with ten extra pounds in your hands.
Her annoying attitude made me want to show off. I was gonna land the best triple toe ever, even if it killed me. I concentrated on my anger and let it give me speed. I tried to forget about the hand weights as I dug my blade into the ice and flew into the air, twisting and perfectly landing on the ice. Skating over to Madame Ilsa, I was prepared to gloat.
But the old hag was just sitting there like she hadn’t even seen my jump. I skated closer and my heart almost stopped. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t seem to be breathing. Was she dead? I was about to shout her name when I heard a snort. She was snoring. Snoring! This was the coach who was supposed to get me ready to compete? Fat chance.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I needed to skate. Now.I built up speed and launched myself into another jump. I landed that one and then another. Maybe if I practiced enough, I wouldn’t really need Madame Ilsa. I skated backwards and skidded sideways onto my butt. It was exactly the way I’d done the first time I’d ever hit the ice. Even though I didn’t need that memory right now, the vision fell into my head anyway.
“Come on Lillian.” My dad had reached down just as I started to cry. “You’ll never learn if you don’t get up.”
I reached out my hand. It looked so tiny next to his. I was a big girl. I was gonna start kindergarten real soon. But there was no one bigger and stronger than my daddy. I wanted so much to show off for him.
“I can skate fast.” I lifted my feet to run across the ice. I made it two steps before I fell sideways onto my butt.
Daddy chuckled. “Slide. Don’t run. Watch me.” He skated while I watched his feet.
I picked myself up and pushed a foot forward. I was moving! I lifted my other skate and went forward. Amazing. I was like Cinderella when she was dancing at the ball.
“Hey, you’ve got a knack for this,” my dad said. I didn’t know what a knack was, but from the tone of his voice, it must be good. “We’ll have to start you in on lessons.”
The memory fled as the cold froze my butt. I pushed off the ice and stood, grabbing the hand weights. I’d started lessons and Dad had supported me every step of the way, even taking extra shifts at work to pay for my coach.
I glanced at Madame Ilsa just as she let out a loud snore. Look at me now. I was being coached by a passed-out drunk. I was so fed up, I skated directly to her, turning only at the last minute so I would send bits of cold ice onto her legs. She startled awake and glared at me.
“Well, Miss Lillian. You are waiting for me to die? Show me triple toe jump, yes?” Her voice wasn’t shaking as much and her eyes looked clearer. Maybe the nap had helped her sleep off the alcohol.
“I just did,” I said.
“Do it again.”
I should have told her that I’d already done ten triple toe jumps, but I didn’t. I gained speed and did the most perfect toe jump ever.
Or so I thought.
Madame Ilsa picked her way across the ice and grabbed my arms. “This start is okay. But you should tuck these arms closer to your sides. You do this and you will gain a higher lift.”
“Hadn’t I been doing that?” Of course the stupid hand weights were probably throwing me off.
“It is right when you first begin. But then you spin a little and your left hand moves some. Like this,” Madame Ilsa moved my arm slightly to demonstrate. “Practice. That is enough for today.” She reached out and grabbed the hand weights.
With that, she walked off the ice, grabbed her oversized handbag, and walked out of the rink like we hadn’t just spent an hour in bizarre land.
The sounds of dinosaur roaring caught my attention. The noise was coming from the benches where I’d left Kenny. What in the world? Kenny had set his book aside and Michael was on the floor next to him roaring like a prehistoric creature.
“Was that better, Ken?” Michael asked.
“A little louder,” Kenny said with a genuine ear-to-ear grin on his face.
Michael roared louder and moved his head around like a fish sputtering around for air. His polo shirt had come untucked at the waist of his black jeans, and his normally neat black hair stood at odd angles all over the place.
“Hey! Look, Lily,” Kenny yelled. “Michael’s a triceratops.”
Michael glanced up at me and blushed. He started to get up, but Kenny stopped him. “No, wait. Show her the triceratops thing. It’s super cool.”
Michael shook his head, but when Kenny added a “please,” he nodded. “Okay. For you.” Michael ruffled Kenny’s hair in a way I wished Justin or the other football players had done. It was such a simple gesture, but it made my heart melt.
Michael got back on the floor and pretended to be a dinosaur like the one in Kenny’s book. Kenny laughed so hard, I wanted to get down on the floor and kiss Michael for making my little brother so happy.
CHAPTER SIX
I hated Robinsons Supercenter with a passion. As soon as you pulled into the parking lot, your eyes were blinded by the neon sign spelling out the store’s name with alternating purples and greens. Unfortunately the eye abuse didn’t end at the parking lot. The cashiers wore purple and neon green striped shirts and the managers had on purple blazers bright enough to guide airplanes to the ground.
“How can you not like Robinsons?” Emily asked me when we first met. “That store has everything. And the owner, Richard Robinson gives a lot of his money away. What’s not to like about Robinsons?” Then Emily found out about my dad and that shut her up.
I hated Robinsons Supercenter and yet I shopped there every week. I never ventured into the one on the north-side where Dad died. But it seemed like I was always in the Robinsons nearest our house. There was something drawing me through the automatic doors again and again.
If I had a shrink, he’d probably label it a compulsion - taking stuff from Robinsons only to return it in a day or two when the guilt started to eat me alive. It was stupid really. I was probably the only shoplifter who took the stuff back. I’d returned everything except my skates, and the store owed me that little bit of happiness.
I wanted to stop shoplifting, but I didn’t know how. Mom could probably help me, but I couldn’t put anything else on her shoulders. It had been two weeks since my mom had been admitted to the hospital. Last night, Kenny had complained about my tofu casserole, so I thought I’d break down and get him some vegetarian hot dogs. After all a kid had to be a kid and Kenny couldn’t be expected to eat tofu every night.
Grabbing a cart, I pushed it to the vegetarian foods display and got Kenny his hot dogs. I picked up some garbanzo beans and a few more squares of tofu before heading to the opposite side of the store. Last time I was here, I’d seen some dinosaur puzzles I knew Kenny would like.
I was pushing the cart down the small appliance aisle when I stopped so suddenly the shopper behind me hit me with her cart. “Sorry,” I whispered as I jerked my own cart around. I’d been so focused on the puzzles that I almost wheeled into the automotive section with the tires. Like where Dad died. I couldn’t go that way. Ever.
I took the long way to the toy department, making myself focus on something other than my dad. When I found the puzzles, I picked up every single box and stared at the picture, making myself think about the colors and textures to focus my mind back on the mundane. I finally picked a triceratops puzzle because it reminded me of the way Michael had gotten down on the ground to roar like a dinosaur.