THE ICE IS GETTING THINNER

Wednesday, 6:35 P.M.

“Simon, we’ve got a problem.” That night after rehearsal at the loft, Stevie and I stood side by side on a crowded southbound Red Line train. We stared into the inky Chicago night as the El stopped at Lakeview, then Lincoln Park, then River North. Further south was Chicago’s Loop, the commercial district downtown where Stevie and I were meeting Mom, Ella, and Gabe for a skating date at the Millennium Park rink.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” I glowered past my own reflection in the window, the city racing by just out of my reach. “I’ve got lots of problems right now.”

After the prank at Shedd, I’d thought the administration would ban Stevie from the dance, or (preferably) school property, or (even more preferably) the Midwest. When that didn’t happen, I assumed her dad would ground her. But apparently, Gabe didn’t believe in punishment. I should have known. The man wore hemp.

“Hello? I’m talking about our parents.” Stevie yanked the ends of her salmon-colored scarf. “My dad has this thing he does when he’s in a really good mood.”

“Lemme guess. He does a little dance around the rain forest. No. Wait. He plays the bongo drums in a loincloth.”

The train lurched to a stop and Stevie slammed into me, pinning me to the cold silver pole closest to the doors.

“Ow! Get off!”

“Oops. Sorry.” She blinked innocently, showing off a set of turquoise-and-navy faux lashes that looked like peacock feathers. I hated how awesome they looked. “No, whenever he’s in a really good mood, he hums in the shower.”

“So what? A lot of people hum in the shower. I do, and trust me when I say I am not happy right now.” The doors slid open and I hopped onto the platform, which was packed with tourists doing headcounts on their kids and comparing the maps on their iPhones with the ones on the station wall.

Stevie’s hand fell heavily on my shoulder. I fought the urge to shrug it off. “Yeah, but this morning he was singing a Marvin Gaye song. In a really low key.”

“Ewwwww!” A blast of cold air whipped my cheeks as we stepped onto State Street. “Please don’t tell me which song.”

“You know the one.”

“Craaaaaaap.” I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and stormed south. “Can we not talk about this anymore?” I’d always loved hitting downtown at night, and I wasn’t about to let Stevie or Gabe or Marvin Gaye and his sexy songs ruin the experience. The bite to the evening air, the golden storefronts glowing around us, the hustle of people on the sidewalks and the distant honking of horns: Chicago had a rhythm, a kind of music to it that made me feel alive.

“Just one more thing.” Stevie fell into step beside me. “This morning at breakfast, he told me he was planning a big date for her. Something about a hot-air balloon ride.”

I sucked in a breath, and the cold air pricked my lungs. “Could your dad get any cheesier? And by the way, my mom hates—” I stopped in my tracks. “That’s it. I’m a freaking genius!”

“Hey! Watch it.” Stevie smacked into me, almost tripping over my over-the-knee shearling-trimmed boots.

I whirled around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Shut up and listen. We’ll point out all the terrible things about our parents, in front of them. Like… your dad sings gross songs in the shower. And my mom always forgets to check for deodorant stains before she leaves the house. That kind of thing. Then—” I flung my arms out ta-da style, almost backhanding a little old lady. “Oops. Sorry. Relationship over.”

“So, like, make them look bad in front of each other?” Stevie pulled her white mohair cloche low over her ears, looking deep in thought. “That’d be pretty easy, as far as your mom’s concerned.”

I snorted, thinking of her dad’s bare feet at the restaurant. “We might not even have to do this. Your dad seems like kind of a flake, anyway. Maybe he’ll forget to fill out his application for U of C or something. Then you won’t be able to move.”

“Or maybe he’ll get the job and decide he’s not interested in a lady with PIT STAINS.”

“DEODORANT STAINS! At least my mom wears it. Your dad probably goes au naturel.” I wrinkled my nose.

“What, like, naked?” Stevie looked confused.

“No, like…” I shook my head, exasperated. “Never mind.”

We entered the Millennium Park rink, where bundled-up skaters wobbled across the ice. Mom, Gabe, and Ella were waiting outside the rental hut. Gabe was kneeling in front of Ella and tying the hot-pink glitter skates Mom and I had given her for her last birthday.

“Kacey! Stevie!” Ella lit up when she saw us. “Look!” She wiggled her feet, sending the laces on her skates flying. “I’m like Cinderella!”

Gabe laughed and steadied her skates. “Easy, princess.”

“Gimme a break,” Stevie mumbled under her breath.

I elbowed her in the side. Hard. “Back off. She’s six.”

“Hey, girls. We got you some skates.” Mom lifted two dingy pairs of skates by the laces and smiled. Her cheeks were flushed peach from the cold, and her hair fell in fiery waves from underneath her celery-green wool cap. She looked beautiful.

Is she happy? Paige’s voice from this morning floated into my brain.

“So how was school?” Gabe straightened up, then took Ella’s hands and pulled her to standing. She promptly face-planted into his chest.

“Classes were good, for me.” I smiled at Stevie as I kicked off my boots. “How was your community service? Feel rehabilitated?”

“Kacey Elisabeth Simon,” Mom warned.

Stevie narrowed her eyes at me. “Thanks for asking, Kacey. Some moron papered the entire Square with green crepe paper. I spent, like, two hours pulling it down.”

“Bummer.” I shoved my feet into my skates and yanked the laces tight. “Whoever spent their precious time decorating The Square is probably really pissed at you right now.”

“Oooooohhhhhhhhh.” Ella slapped her palm over her mouth.

“Okay, girls.” Mom sighed. “Shall we hit the ice?”

Ella screeched something that sounded vaguely like a yes, but mostly like an overexcited hyena.

“Stevie and I have never been skating, so your mom insisted. I hear the three of you are pros.” Gabe winked at me. The salt-and-pepper scruff prickling his cheeks and chin made it beyond obvious that he hadn’t shaved all day. And if he couldn’t even manage proper personal hygiene, how could he hope to hold down a legit job or contribute to society? If there was one thing Mom hated more than anything, it was a slacker.

“So, Mom.” I glided effortlessly on the ice, skating backward as Stevie and her dad hunched over like linebackers and clomped toward the center of the rink. “How was your day?”

“Great, thanks.” Mom smiled nervously, looking confused at the sudden cheer in my voice. “I subbed for the morning anchor, and had a really fascinating interview with the alderman for ward—”

“So you got up super early and were, like, really productive,” I summarized, sending your turn vibes Stevie’s way. “Awesome.”

“So, Dad,” Stevie jumped in, right on cue. “Didn’t you get up at like, ten, or something?”

I kept my eyes trained on Mom.

“Ten?” She wrinkled her nose like Gabe had just told her he was wearing dirty underwear.

Gabe’s left skate shot out to one side, and he grabbed Mom’s arm to steady himself. “Ooof! I got up at eight, but spent two hours meditating. I was feeling uncentered—a little like I am now, actually.” He laughed and pulled Mom close. “So I took some time to quiet my mind.”

Oh, please. Meditating? That was just a fancy word for sleeping with wind chimes in the background. This was too easy.

“I just love that,” Mom said.

Wait. What? I nearly tripped over my own skates and had to grab the hood of Ella’s puffy purple coat to keep from biting it.

“Kacey! Ow!” Ella swatted my hand away, then dropped to the ice and started making ice angels. “Look at me!”

“I think it’s so refreshing to find a man who takes the time to tend to his spirit.” Mom blinked up at Gabe.

“Ohmygod,” I muttered under my breath. I skated in tight circles around Stevie. “Tend to his spirit? That was totally something your dad would say! He’s rubbing off on her!”

Her eyes were wide. “This is worse than I thought.”

I whipped around, skating directly toward Mom and Gabe.

“Kacey! Whoa!” Mom had to let go of Gabe’s hand to let me through. He wobbled like a giant bobblehead, but didn’t hit the ice. “Careful!”

“Sorry,” I said lightly. Then I forced a laugh. “Hey. Mom. Remember that time you went on the air with lipstick on your teeth? And it basically looked like you had no front teeth for a whole broadcast?”

Stevie sucked in a breath. “That’s pretty unattractive.” She caught my eye, looking super serious. I rolled my eyes at her. Did she have to be so dramatic? If Mom hadn’t figured out my endgame before, Stevie had just given us away.

But instead of threatening to ground me, or even using my middle name again, Mom just joined hands with Gabe and laughed. The kind of easy, openmouthed laugh that told me she was completely relaxed around Gabe. “I do remember that! I was mortified!”

Oh, no. I recognized that smile. It was the way I looked when I caught a glimpse of myself mid-Zander–thought.

Gabe leaned down and kissed her hat. “I love that you were so invested in your work, you didn’t even have the mental energy to worry about your appearance.”

Disgusted, I speedskated away from Mom and Gabe, while Ella screamed at Mom to watch her skate backward. What was wrong with my mother? She used to be so levelheaded. So practical. Ever since she’d met Gabe, it was like she’d been brainwashed.

“Um, in case you didn’t notice, your little plan tanked.” Stevie tripped into me and grabbed my arm a few seconds later.

“Yeah. I was there.” I kicked at the ice with the toe of my skate, sending a spray of fluffy white shavings in Stevie’s direction.

“So? What do we do now?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”

Stevie stopped skated entirely. “What? Why?”

“Because…” I glared at the ice, which was covered in grayish-white tracks from the other skaters’ blades. I imagined a tiny crack at my feet getting wider and wider, until the ice parted and swallowed me whole. If only I were so lucky. “Because I think they’re in love.”