Chapter 3: It Just May Be a Lunatic You're Looking For
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"I'll have a large chocolate milkshake. Extra chocolate." There wasn't enough chocolate on the planet to make Megan feel better. But this was a good start.
The tiny brunette behind the counter gave her a shy smile, and said, "I don't think I can add extra chocolate. The ice cream and milk are already chocolate."
To her horror Megan sniffed and her eyes filled with tears. In the space of one week, she'd lost her dance partner/ sort of boyfriend, the owner of the rink had looked at her funny, she'd scraped her father's car, gained five pounds--and now.... "Can't you add some extra syrup or something?"
"I could," the girl said hesitantly, "But wouldn't that be some kind of chocolate overload?" Still, in sympathy perhaps, she pulled out a bottle of fudge sauce and looked at it doubtfully.
"Besides," came Donna's overly sweet voice from behind her, "too much chocolate and your thighs will twizzle. Diet Sprite, extra ice please," she continued to the girl behind the counter.
Megan was never sure if Donna was being nice or nasty. The singles skater was always surface friendly, but every once in a while her comments hovered on the border of insult. Megan decided to take her remarks at face value at least for today. "It doesn't matter if my thighs grapevine. If you haven't heard, I'm partnerless."
"Good riddance, actually," Donna said in a tone which convinced Megan that the other girl really had been trying to be nice before. "You were not very well matched as a team and Duras was more interested in showing off himself rather than his partner. With Mason, she'll be able to give him holy hell if he tries that with her. Thanks, Gina," she added when the girl at the counter--Gina, gave her the soda. Megan was impressed that Donna had called Gina by name. Donna was always noticing things like nametags, and then remembering to use them. Apparently the public thought well of things like that.
"Gina" then turned back to Megan. "I can compromise. Skim milk. Frozen yogurt. Ice. And chocolate syrup. Lots of sugar, but not so much fat."
Megan shrugged. Then she turned back to Donna. "So Duras and Mason will be stormy. Big deal. At least they've got each other."
Putting a friendly arm around Megan's shoulders, Donna smiled. "Svetlana will come up with another partner for you. She knows everyone. Maybe she'll find someone through the St. Petersburg pipeline. You know... like some romantic Russian boy yearning for a new life in the States."
"That's true, she could do that." Megan felt a little better. Svetlana sometimes seemed to have mystical powers. Taking the milkshake from Gina, she and Donna made their way past the ever present (but not for long!) hockey players and chose a booth that overlooked the small practice rink. She stirred up the chocolate a little more as she looked at the construction taking place out there. Once the remodeling was finished, there would be a lovely technical booth that served both rinks with separate sound systems.
"Let's see," Donna was still thinking about dance partners. "Ivan Fyderov's partner is getting a little long in the tooth. Maybe he'd be willing to make a switch."
"Donna!" Megan was appalled. "Yulia Markova and Ivan Fyderov have been World Champions for five years in a row. There's no way he'd abandon her for some little twit in the United States!"
Unrepentant Donna just giggled. "Yeah, but they are not a pair, they're a trio. Him, her, and whatever character she's portraying. I'm sure he's feeling a bit crowded. No? Well. What about Alexandre Jacov."
"He skates pairs."
"You could switch." Donna slurped the dregs of her soda and then began packing ice into her straw and slurping at it.
Megan shook her head. "Among other things, I'm afraid of heights."
"Oh. Well, now that I think about it, you're way too big for pairs anyway." Donna thought some more. Or at least appeared to be thinking. "Could you train in a hockey skater?" Her eyes traveled to a point some place beyond Megan's shoulder.
"You know as well as I do that that only works in the movies." Megan sighed again.
Apparently losing interest in the conversation, Donna stood up. "Back in a moment."
Megan turned to see where she was going --ah, a hockey skater had signaled her over. Figured. Donna always had men tripping over themselves to get her attention, no matter where she was. Right now she was smiling broadly at a tall blond jock, who gestured to her soda and pointed to something on the table. Whatever it was got Donna's full attention for a long moment. Then she shrieked and stormed out of the snack bar with the hockey guys laughing behind her.
Alone again.
Megan sighed. Realistically, there was little likelihood of Svetlana finding a partner at her level. There just weren't that many male ice dancers around. Which meant that now Megan was a former ice dancer. A washout at sixteen. And what was she going to do now? Go back to high school with its boring round of classes and cliques? Megan hated school. Home was just as bad. Her brother was some genius boy and her younger sister was an elite gymnast. Without some kind of talent, Megan was going to just fade into the woodwork.
"Huh. I wonder what burned her butt."
Megan jumped slightly. She hadn't heard Marvella come up to her. "What?"
"Miz Delmonico. She just went storming into Mr. Swanson's office. Can't you hear her screeching?"
Well used to Marvella's tendency to exaggerate, Megan simply shrugged. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Maybe shrugging was about to become her signature move. "I think the hockey skaters were bugging her."
"Uh huh. They can come round an bug me any time. Oh, Svetlana's lookin' for you. She said to meet her in her office right away."
Uh oh.
Steeling herself for news of the worst sort, Megan headed over to the offices, narrowly avoiding piles of boards and buckets of paint. Had Svetlana already given up on finding her a partner? Was Megan too old to start over? She peeked her head into the room. "You were looking for me?"
Svetlana was on the phone. She gestured for Megan to be quiet. "Sit. Sit--- We have a tryout with Megan when you get here. Tell me again your flight information."
Tryout? Already? Flight information? Flight from where? St. Petersburg? Moscow?
"Flight 1701 from Tulsa, Oklahoma, to arrive tomorrow at 1:17 p.m. Yes, yes. That is good."
Tulsa?
Tulsa, Oklahoma?
Oh no. Oh God no.
Megan knew only of one other ice dancer from Tulsa Oklahoma. Cody Neill. He'd once been part of the ice dance team of Neill and Neill, but his older sister had retired to get married. Since then he'd gone through six partners in two years. The media called him the Cowboy Dancer. Ice skaters had their own nickname for him. Crazy Cody. The man was a lunatic. He was outspoken. He played practical jokes. Potentially a brilliant choreographer, he had the bad habit of improvising up to the last possible minute. He was gorgeous. He was a gifted comedian. He was a lunatic. He was....
"Megan, I have found for you a good skater. Tomorrow we start the training of Kincaid and Neill."
....probably going to be Megan's new partner.
Text Copyright © 1999-2000 Karen Frank
