Maggie crept downstairs at midnight to get a glass of water.
A light shone beneath the kitchen door. She paused when she realized that her parents were behind the door, talking in hushed voices. She distinctly heard her mother say “Magnolia.”
Maggie automatically crouched down before she realized that crouching wasn’t going to exactly hide her if her parents left the kitchen. Feeling silly, she stood up again and pressed her ear against the door.
“The driving back and forth is making our lives more complicated than it needs to be,” her dad said.
“I know,” her mother said, her voice calm. “And you should have seen Magnolia’s face. She looked absolutely crushed.”
Maggie realized that her mother was talking about that afternoon. After her encounter with Coach Stone, Maggie had run to the grocery store bathroom and splashed her face with cold water to cover up the tearstains. She’d hoped her mother hadn’t noticed, but clearly her mother had.
“I think we should let her practice with Coach Stone again,” her dad said. “I don’t think we gave him enough of a chance.”
Maggie crossed her fingers and her toes and squeezed her eyes shut. She wished with every part of her body that her mother would agree.
After a long pause her mother exhaled and said, “I’m still not sure.”
Without thinking, Maggie pushed open the door to the kitchen. Her parents both turned toward her in surprise.
“Magnolia, what are you doing out of bed?” her mother asked.
Maggie blushed and said, “I was thirsty, and then I heard you guys talking about me, and . . . ” She wasn’t sure how to continue.
Caught off-guard, neither of her parents seemed to know what to say, either.
Feelings of hope, fear, and courage swirled in Maggie. She decided in a flash that she had nothing to lose. “Mom, I’m your daughter, but I’m not like exactly you,” she said. “I’m never going to be exactly like you. I love crazy music and having blue hair and breaking the rules while skating.” Maggie took in a deep breath and continued. “I am the exact opposite of Beatrice, and I love her and you, but I can’t be her or you.”
Her parents stood stock-still.
Maggie felt the weight of her words float throughout the room. She searched desperately for a glimpse of understanding from her mother. “Please understand,” Maggie said. “Please.”
Her father looked at her mother. Her mother looked at her father.
Finally, her mother came over to her daughter. She took Maggie’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “Okay,” she said.
* * *
Maggie hugged her mother when she dropped her off at Coach Stone’s rink the next morning. “Thank you so much,” she said.
Her mother drew her in tight like she’d done when Maggie was a little girl. Her mother smelled like perfume and gum and something else that was just uniquely her.
They locked eyes, and her mother said, “I really just want you to be happy, Magnolia.”
Beatrice pouted in the back seat.
She was still going to train with Coach Bennett, at least until the next competition. After that, they would figure out if they wanted to continue on. Beatrice was used to getting her way, and she didn’t understand why Maggie was getting special treatment.
“Bye, Beatrice,” Maggie taunted before she closed the door. “Have a fun drive!”
Beatrice stared straight ahead.
Maggie wiggled her fingers in a wave and then tried to push down the voice inside that told her she was being a brat. She went inside the arena, dressed, and made her way out to the rink.
Coach Stone shook Maggie’s hand like she was a grownup. “Great to have you back,” he said.
“It’s great to be back, Coach,” said Maggie. She skated out onto the ice to start her warm-ups.
Bass pounded from the loudspeaker. Other girls were already warmed up and practicing jumps.
Colorful skirts flew in a frenzy. Maggie, however, saw beauty and order in the frenzy. She’d never been so excited to be at practice.
Coach Stone stopped Maggie while she was practicing her sit spin. She was breathless from the effort of trying to maintain a perfect position. She’d always felt, somehow, that spinning was her secret weapon. Practicing in front of Coach Stone had made her want to try even harder.
“What’s up, Coach?” Maggie said.
“We’re going to work on putting a harder spin combination into your routine,” Coach Stone said. He began to skate, showing off his fancy footwork. Coach Stone was always on the ice with his students, always skating. He seemed to love figure skating more than anyone Maggie had ever known, even Beatrice.
“I’m thinking a camel to a Biellman,” said Coach Stone. “You have the flexibility, and I think you should try.”
Maggie felt needles of doubt in her chest. The Biellman spin was an upright spin where the skater grabbed the foot behind their head. When Maggie thought about trying that, she felt unsure but tried not to let it show in her face. “Do you think I’m ready for that?” Maggie asked.
“I know you’re ready,” Coach Stone said. He hit the top of the wall hard with his hand, jolting her out of her daydream. “But we better get to work if we want it ready for the competition.”
Maggie had seen that spin combination done a thousand times by more experienced skaters. At that moment, for the first time, she couldn’t help but begin to imagine exactly how it would feel. The move seemed to be calling to her in a way that she couldn’t ignore. She practiced it with Coach Stone for a good portion of the practice.
The next days passed in a blur of happiness for Maggie.
Training with Coach Stone was everything she’d dreamt of. He listened to her ideas and didn’t think they were crazy at all. He called her creative and inventive instead of stubborn.
But Coach Stone was also tough — tougher even than Coach Bennett. Maggie had to take ice baths every night to soothe her sore and aching muscles from all the extra work. She was having so much fun on the ice, though, that she didn’t seem to mind.