Outside Edge (Knockout Girl Book 5) Read online

  “It’s not?” she asks.

  I sit up suddenly and scoff at her. “Uh, no? I don’t have a problem. Everyone’s acting like I have some addiction, but the only thing I was addicted to was winning. And no one complained about that when I was on top, did they?”

  She tilts her head a bit and looks at me for long enough that I drop my gaze to my lap. “Do you think you’re immune to addiction or other mental health issues because you’re young, or athletic, or seem to have your life together?”

  The words are spoken gently but they feel like a slap in the face. Young, athletic, and have my life together? None of those things are exactly true anymore. I mean, sure, I’m only 19 but my depression combined with my unhealthy eating habits and nonexistent exercising make me feel 100 years old some days. And I’m certainly not athletic if that failed toe loop I tried the other day is any indication.

  Nothing in my life is together.

  “I’m not saying I’m immune,” I say weakly. “I just meant that I don’t have a problem. With addiction. Obviously...there’s still the other stuff.”

  “Do you want to talk about the other stuff?” Rosa asks calmly. At least she dropped the addiction thing.

  “I finally...” Say it, Brooke. Tell her. It’s safe here. “I finally went skating.”

  Rosa’s eyes open wider and she her smile grows. “Oh! How was it?”

  “Well...I screwed up a double toe loop and almost fell,” I tell her. “It was so disappointing. Like, I couldn’t even do that.”

  “You know,” she says in a gentle tone, “some people can’t even skate around a rink without falling.”

  “Not Adrian,” I mumble without thinking.

  Her eyebrows draw in. “Who?”

  “Um, uh—” Ugh, why did I bring him up? “A guy, there was a guy helping Marie. Just a guy, a good skater.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  I let out a relieved breath when she doesn’t ask me more about him. What would I even say? He was hot and he skates really fast and he looked great in that suit even if it was wrinkled. I’m not telling Rosa that.

  “And how did that make you feel?” she asks.

  “Huh?”

  “How did it make you feel to meet another talented skater?” she asks.

  I stare at her. “Rosa. I’m not a talented skater anymore, okay? Please stop trying to convince me that I am.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You didn’t mean to tell me what my mom has been begging you to tell me?” I stand up and start for the door. “Okay, so like...am I a talented skater or what?”

  Rosa is unfazed by my outburst. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m done with this conversation.”

  I fling her door open and stalk past her receptionist. I know it’s mean, and I know someone’s paying for my therapy. But I’m not doing that today. I’m not sure I ever want to do it again.

  ***

  Later that day, Mom forces me to go to the Get Dry meeting. Even though I’m not an addict and I don’t need those people’s help. I sit through the entire meeting with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face.

  I listen to them talk about their problems, how they have overcome so much but still struggle every day with wanting that one thing they know they can’t have. That’s not me, though. I don’t want anything anymore.

  When Dawson asks if I have anything I want to talk about, my frown deepens. No. Way. These aren’t my people and they’ll never be my people and I’m not doing that. No one else says anything about it though and Dawson doesn’t push me.

  “See you next week, Brooke,” Lou says. She pats me on the arm on her way out.

  “Not likely,” I mutter back.

  I can’t sleep tonight. Tomorrow I have to go back to the Community Centre and I just can’t handle the idea. I also can’t sleep without my sleeping pills but they took everything away from me. Yes, even the things I really needed, like the sleeping pills.

  After tossing and turning all night, I’m a wreck. I spend the whole morning and afternoon in my pyjamas not eating, not doing anything. I didn’t even scroll through my feeds because I know what I’ll see: all the athletes that were allowed to continue being athletic. All I’m allowed to do now is binge eat and tell strangers about my “problems.”

  I don’t know why I bother to put on my skating outfit just for the little kids in the skate program. I don’t know why I get into the car with Mom and let her drive me to the Centre. And I certainly don’t know what to do with myself as I slowly walk up to the doors.

  My heart is already beating too hard and I’m not even inside the building. My bag slips a little off my shoulder and it’s tempting to just let it drop all the way to the ground. And then maybe I’d follow it and just stay there forever.

  “Are you going in, or...?”

  I turn at the sound of that young, pleasant voice. There’s Adrian, with his wrinkly suit, tousled hair, and beautiful, tired eyes.

  I don’t know why, but I find myself saying, “Eh, I don’t think I can do it today.”

  “Really?” he asks, scrunching up his eyebrows. “You seem like you’re really into skating.”

  I let out a strangled little giggle. He has no idea. “I am—I mean, I was. I’m not... I dunno. I just don’t feel like it today.”

  He nods slowly. “You know what? Me neither. You wanna ditch with me?”

  Boy, do I ever. Still... I look back at the building with a twinge of guilt. Honestly though, I’d rather spend more time staring into his eyes than skating right now. “Sure,” I say, playing it cool.

  “Great.” He takes his gym bag off his shoulder and tosses it next to the wall. The clattering makes me flinch.

  “Are you sure you want to leave your skates here?” I ask.

  He shrugs nonchalantly and says, “I couldn’t care less, to be honest with you.”

  His indifference is deliciously refreshing. I put my bag down next to his and say, “Alright, where are we going?”

  He shrugs. “What’s there to do around here?”

  With a wry grin, I jut my thumb at the Community Centre behind me.

  “Right...” He looks around. “Nothing else, eh?”

  “We could walk down by the river,” I suggest.

  He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Take me to the river, then.”

  I have never in my life struggled with having a simple conversation with a guy, attractive or not. But something about Adrian’s combination of self-confidence and self-deprecation has me so off- guard I hardly know what to do.

  I square my shoulders and walk past him, waving my hand. “It’s this way.” Lame, Brooke. Totally lame.

  As I lead Adrian back through town, I watch him out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t see it before, but he’s not wearing a shirt under his jacket.

  “Do you, like, own any other clothes?” I ask. “Or is this it?”

  He laughs out loud and for once, his smile seems genuine. “What, you don’t like my suit?”

  I giggle against my better judgment. “It is really wrinkled. And...did you lose the shirt?”

  “Nope.” He looks down at me with one eyebrow raised. “Do you own anything other than that one figure skating costume?”

  I smile. “No. It’s just this.”

  “Well, at least it looks good on you,” he says, turning away again.

  My smile falls and my breath catches in my throat. He must be making fun of me. There’s no way he’s missed the extra rolls on my stomach, the bulges around my rib cage, the way the dress doesn’t quite fit across my chest. He obviously hasn’t taken a good look at me.

  I clear my throat and ask, “So, what are you doing in Christmastown? You’re not from around here and I can’t imagine why anyone would visit at this time of year.”

  He lets out a humourless chuckle. “I’m staying with my pops for...for a while.”

  “Your pops?” I gasp as it occurs to me. “You don’t mean— Is Judge Mc
Duff your grandfather?”

  “Yup,” he says with zero enthusiasm.

  “Wow.” I lead him down a path that will take us straight to the river. “I wonder what house rules he’s got.”

  “Pretty much all of them,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Like, I don’t think I’m supposed to ditch my community work to hang out with a girl, let alone a pretty one.”

  “Oh—uh,” I stutter. He thinks I’m pretty? “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

  He laughs again, the same sad sound ringing through the quiet, still air. “I was already in plenty of trouble before I came to Christmastown.”

  I want to ask what he means, but he changes the subject before I can.

  “What about you?” he asks. “Did you grow up here?”

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  The path widens, leading to the bridge that crosses the river. As we step onto it, a breeze rifles through the air, dropping yellow and orange leaves into the lazy water below.

  “You like it here?” he asks.

  Right now, in this moment, I feel more at peace than I have in months. It’s quiet, I’m in the company of a very attractive man who knows nothing about me or my past, and I have no crazy obligations. But that hasn’t always been the case.

  “I thought I’d travel the world one day, but—”

  Tears fill my eyes and I press on them with my thumb and forefinger. I’m not going to cry in front of this guy. I don’t care what Rosa says; crying isn’t always appropriate.

  “Something in your eyes?” he asks.

  I look up at him. There’s concern in those chocolatey depths. He can totally tell I’m falling apart, but he chose to give me an out and I’m taking it.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say, finally looking away. “Seasonal allergies, you know?”

  “Tell me about it,” he says. “There’s a particular pollen around here that used to kill me every summer when I visited Pops when I was younger. I’m glad the season’s ending.”

  “Me, too,” I say. Although if I’m honest, I’d rather not head into skating season. “Maybe we should go back now.”

  “Sure,” he says.

  The sun is starting to set and I put my arms around myself. With a shiver, I realize I should have put on a sweater before I left the house. Adrian, who is apparently a late-1800s gentleman, takes off his suit jacket and puts it around my shoulders. Now he’s shirtless and I’m burning up to a million degrees.

  As we walk back to the Centre, the temperature drops a lot and I feel bad that Adrian’s just walking around like this. But that was his choice, not mine. And also, I don’t mind the view at all.

  It’s almost completely dark by the time we get back, so I can finally face him without him seeing how red my cheeks are. I give him his jacket back, but he doesn’t put it on, he just folds it over his arm.

  Our bags are still sitting there next to the wall. I grab mine and watch Adrian hesitate over his.

  “No one was ever going to take it,” I say as I pick it up. “People are so painfully honest in this town.”

  “I guess that’s just as well.” He takes the bag from me, his fingers brushing against mine. “They were expensive...but you probably already knew that.”

  Yeah, I could tell his skates were likely as expensive as mine were. But with the way he carelessly threw them on the ground earlier, I figured he was either so rich it didn’t matter or he really meant it when he said he didn’t care for them.

  “See you around?” he says.

  I look up into his eyes instead of at the rest of him and nod. “See you,” I whisper.

  He turns and walks away, affording me another beautiful view. I can’t wait until he leaves Christmastown.

  CHAPTER six

  Adrian

  I knew it wouldn’t be long before Pops found out I skipped out on my community work. Marie probably tells him everything—way more than he needs to know about anything.

  He hands me a cup of black coffee at breakfast. As soon as I take a sip, he says, “Do you want to go to juvie?”

  I sputter and the coffee goes down all wrong. After coughing a few times, I say, “No? Why would I want that?”

  “I assume,” Pops says, pausing to take a careful sip, “that since you’re not invested in the volunteer work that you’ve been blessed with that you would rather go straight to prison.”

  I frown at him. “Of course I don’t want to go to prison. That’s ridiculous.”

  “No,” he says forcefully, his thick eyebrows lowered menacingly. “Getting two DUIs with no remorse is ridiculous. Throwing away your second chance at life is ridiculous.”

  My mouth gapes open. “Well, it’s also ridiculous to expect me to want to...what, watch a bunch of kids learn how to figure skate? I don’t know anything about that. Isn’t there anything else I can do instead?”

  “No,” he says again in that same rough tone.

  “Alright, I get it.” I take another sip of coffee and look away.

  “You don’t get it, Adrian,” he says. “And you won’t get it until you grow up.”

  I look back at him as he rises. He stalks over to the kitchen, slams his cup in the sink, and then leaves through the back door. Nothing about this house is soundproof, so I can hear him drag his lawn mower out of the shed. He tries to start it a couple of times and, with an eyeroll, I get up.

  I peek out the back screen door. Pops is fruitlessly trying to start the mower. I’ve always seen him as one of the strongest men I know. But when he stops to put a hand on his back and run his other hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, reality hits me hard. What am I standing here for?

  Pushing the door open resolutely, I go over to him. “Here, Pops,” I say. “I’ll do the lawn.” I reach down for the cord.

  “Oh, I’m not sure you’ll be able—”

  I yank the cord once and the thing starts up, cutting off his dismissal. He puts his hands up in surrender and goes to sit on the patio. Seriously, he just sits there and watches me do the lawn, like he can’t trust me to even do that without getting into trouble.

  The yard isn’t very big, but the late-summer sun is beating down on me and the ground is uneven. I don’t let it show that it bothers me, though. Or the fact that Pops is still watching me work. When I’m finished, I put the mower away, wipe the sweat off my brow, and go back to where Pops is still sitting.

  “Hey, isn’t Marie having a party tonight?” I ask.

  Pops shrugs and looks away.

  “Seriously? Why don’t you go?” I ask.

  He puts his hands up. “She has parties all the time and I never go. She’s just inviting me to be nice.”

  “Wow,” I say under my breath. “You know, she’s going to stop inviting you at some point.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” he says nonchalantly. “It’s getting awkward coming up with excuses to not go.”

  I put my hand up to my head. Is he really not getting it or does he not like Marie? I don’t care enough to figure out so I leave it alone.

  ***

  A few days later, I put on my nice but wrinkled pants, do up the suit jacket, and look at my skates bag. I don’t want to do this. Everything in me screams at me to just toss the skates in a fire and never look back. But I’ll be stuck in Christmastown purgatory if I don’t do my stupid hours, and apparently I can’t do my hours if I don’t skate.

  Just before I leave, Pops says to me, “Don’t forget your Get Dry meeting after.”

  I stalk out of the house and make my way towards the Community Centre, gritting my teeth the whole time. Honestly, the only thing that takes me all the way there is the hope that Brooke will want to skip it with me again.

  I make it to the Centre ten minutes late, which means everyone’s already out on the ice. I sit down, get my skates on, and stand there, peering over the gate. Brooke is across the ice with her arms crossed over her beautiful dress and glaring at Marie.

  Marie, for her part, looks totally normal and
natural, surrounded by a bunch of little kids flailing around. One of the girls comes forward, does a tiny half spin, and then curtsies. Marie claps for her, which prompts all the others to clap along.

  “Ah, Adrian,” Marie says, motioning for me. “Come. You, too, Brooke.”

  I hesitate. Brooke hesitates. I take the first step, and Brooke and I slowly meet in the middle where Marie is.

  “I would like you two to demonstrate a simple jump,” Marie said. She waves her hand at us. “Go ahead.”

  Brooke skates forward a bit, points the toes on one skate and then takes off. The jump is simple and not too high but there’s no way I’m doing that.

  “Adrian?” Marie says.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Can’t.”

  “He’s right,” Brooke says, coming back to us with her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t have the right skates.”

  That hadn’t even occurred to me, but I’ll take it. “That’s right. I guess I’ll just have to stand here and watch you guys try.”

  “I could probably find him a pair,” Brooke says.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

  “I will look, too,” Marie says. “In the meantime, just, uh...go over there and Brooke will show you what we’ll be teaching the children. Children, come with Marie.”

  The children awkwardly slide past me, following Marie in a line. They try to follow her A-V pattern with their feet, but they’re pretty much all bad at it. I finally look at Brooke’s pretty face. Maybe if Marie’s busy, we could both make a break for it.

  “Hey,” I say. That didn’t come out as smooth as I’d hoped.

  “Hi,” she says tersely.

  “So, what’d you do all week?” I ask, since I haven’t even seen her bike past Pops’s house lately.

  “Nothing,” she answers. Something in the way she says it makes me believe she truly did nothing. “Why didn’t you tell me you can’t skate?”

  My forehead pinches. “What are you talking about? I can skate. I skate all the—” I stop and swallow hard. “All the time,” I finish quietly.

  “No,” she says with a sigh. She looks down at my skates. “You...play hockey all the time, don’t you? That’s not skating. Not like this.”