Chapter 7: A Note and A Meeting
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"So today's the big day, huh?"
Megan nearly fell out of her chair at the sound of Marvella's voice. And it wasn't that Marvella was all that quiet, it was that Megan had been so lost in her worries that she hadn't heard the girl come up behind her. "Huh? What?"
"You know," Marvella slid in next to her and elbowed her in the ribs. "New partner, maybe?"
"Oh. That." Megan sighed. She'd been trying to forget.
She'd also been enjoying her last moment of privacy. Except for Megan, the snack bar was empty. With all the construction, most sessions had been cancelled. The hockey players were gone forever. Frankly, Megan was glad, because the hockey skaters positively delighted in destroying the ice for figure skating. And there was this one spot --permanently on the ice--that Megan had been unable to tell if it was paint or blood. It had always distracted her when she skated by it.
Marvella's hand waved in front of her face, "Yo, Megan, over here."
"Sorry. I'm just really tense about this. Cody Neill is probably my last chance for a partner, and the idea of skating with him scares the hell out of me." She sighed and put her head on the table. "This has potential to be the third worst day of my life. No the second."
"What was the first--no hold that thought. Customer." Megan sensed rather than saw Marvella get up and go over to the counter. The table felt smooth under her cheek and forehead. A little sticky too, but not enough for her to be uncomfortable. The radio station blatted out some insipid top forty song.
"Ok, I'm back." Marvella announced above her. "Disgruntled hockey player. Doesn't want to commute to Pitt to practice. I sent him down to the lair. Let Mr. Griffin deal with him."
"Poor hockey skater," Megan mumbled through the table.
"So, spill your guts, girlfriend. What were the first and possibly third worst days of your life? --Are you going to eat these fries?"
Megan sat up, resting her face in her hands. "Worst day of my life was when Robert announced he was dumping me for Juliet and moving to Squaw Valley. Current second worst day of my life was when I was six years old, and we were making corn husk dolls in art class, and I got sick to my stomach and barfed all over my favorite teacher, Miss Lilly. Projectile vomiting always counts as a worst day."
One ketchup covered french fry hovered halfway towards Marvella's mouth. She put it back and pushed the plate away. "And what is so bad about Cody Neill that could top projectile vomiting? Who is Cody Neill anyway?"
"He's like ten years older than me and has this reputation for being really hard to work with. And he's known for practical jokes. Everyone who has ever roomed with him on tour or in a competition, has a Crazy Cody horror story." Although Megan had to admit that the first time she'd heard the one where Cody had placed a near to hatching nest of ducks on Brian Boitano's bed--so that when the ducks had hatched, they'd thought Boitano was their mother--she had laughed hysterically. Boitano had been a good sport about it and made sure the ducks were safely taken to a vet. Every once in a while, someone would refer to Boitano's rabid fan club as Boitano's Brood, because they acted like imprinted ducks.
That was all Cody's fault.
But this wasn't something that Marvella would understand. It was more of a skating in-joke. So Megan simply said, "I'm not sure that even if he does want me as his partner, that it will be a good thing."
"So he's a goof off?"
"No, it's not even that. In fact, on ice, he's a total perfectionist. He's always been totally in control of his career." Megan sighed again. The question was, how could having to break in a sixteen-year-old, inexperienced dance partner possibly help Neill's career.
Unless he was desperate.
Megan knew she was desperate.
"Well, don't worry yet. It could be fine."
Megan looked up at her. "Do you really think so?"
"Of course I do, but before you start the tryout, you might want to wi--Gina, what's wrong?" She changed tracks as the other waitress came in from the back room with a stunned look on her face. Gina hastily hid a paper wrapped object into apron.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Just a little mystery, no big deal." She grabbed a hairband out of her pocket and shoved her long hair into a ponytail. "Drat this humidity."
Megan scrutinized a lock of her own hair, which had turned completely flat. She looked enviously at Gina's curls. "Yeah, drat." Then, remembering how friendly Donna always was to non-skaters, she said, "I don't think we've met for real. I'm Megan Kincaid. Ice dancer. I hope still."
Gina smiled. "Gina Logan. College student. And, part time waitress. Who is your dance partner?"
Oh great, they were going to have to go through that again. "It was Robert Duras. But now he's with Juliet Mason. I'll find out soon if my new partner will be Cody Neill."
Gina looked surprised. "Crazy Cody? Is he still skating? Er.... I mean, I haven't seen him on TV lately."
"I guess he wants another shot at the podium," Megan said. The best Neill and Neill had ever done was eighth in the world. Of course, that was pretty good for an American team. "Not sure what that means for me or not. I hope he doesn't go postal on me."
"Nah, Cody has always been the sweetest guy to his partners. It's just the press and the judges that fall on the wrong side of him." Gina said, and then looked like she wanted to put her hands over her mouth.
Megan wondered how Gina knew that. Skating groupie probably. Lots of gossip, little fact. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She returned to staring at her french fries. "Well, he probably won't like me anyway."
"I doubt that.... but you might want to wi--"
Meanwhile, Marvella, had been inching towards Gina's apron. "Ah ha!" She crowed, and grabbed the object out of the apron pocket. Quickly she removed the notebook paper to reveal a cassette tape. "Whets that? More French conversation homework? Why did you hide it?"
Also curious, Megan was looking at the paper-- it looked like notes for a program choreography.
Gina shrugged. "I don't know. It was in my locker when I got here this afternoon."
"It looks like something to do with someone's competitive program. Maybe somebody got your locker mixed up with a skater," Megan continued.
Gina blushed. "Yeah. That's probably it. Somebody got me mixed up with someone who can skate." She sighed.
Marvella started to say something to Megan, but then her eyes brushed past her and she let out a squeak of surprise.
Megan and Gina turned around to look too.
Oh yeah. That was the second thing people remembered about Cody Neill. He was gorgeous. Not pretty-gorgeous like Etienne, or pouty-handsome like Robert. More of a rough-hewn-strip-his-shirt-off-and-then-rip-away-your own, forget to breathe, did an artist sculpt those muscles? I want I want I want, they broke the mold, eat your heart out Marlborough man, gorgeous.
People usually forgot that part.
As he stood there, in tight blue jeans and a blue flannel shirt, his brown eyes crinkling at the corner and his just too long hair teasing the bottom of his ears. Megan had to keep reminding herself, He's a hunk, but he's crazy. He's a hunk, but he's crazy. He's a hunk, but...
"So that's the Cowboy dancer," Marvella said quietly behind them.
"Yep. That would be him," Gina whispered back.
"Can we keep him?" Marvella asked.
He walked.... no, he sauntered....no, he swaggered forward until he was within arm's length of Megan. "Hello, Megan Kincaid." There was still a hint of an Oklahoma twang in those words. "I'm Cody Neill."
Yes, you certainly are, aren't you.
"Yeah, I know. But how did you know who I was?"
He knew who I was! Oh boy oh boy oh boy!!
"Fact is, Miss Kincaid, I saw you and Duras skate at Nationals this year. You reminded me of my sister. Lots of sparkle out there -- I think we could have a lot of fun together." He smiled.
Sister?
"Fun?" Marvella interrupted. "Don't you want to win?"
"Winning is fun, ma'am."
Sister?
Marvella grabbed his hand, shook it rapidly, and then held on. "Marvella King. Future hockey cheerleader."
"Nice to meet ya, Marvella. You, I know," he looked at Gina. "I never forget a face. Gina Logan. Still skating, I hope."
Sister?
Gina shrugged. "Recreationally."
"That's a shame." He turned to Megan. "Svetlana sent me in here to find you. Are you ready to start."
"I need to warm up again, but besides that, I'm ok." She started to go, but he stopped her. "What?"
He grabbed a napkin and wet it in Marvella's water glass. Handing it to her, he stated, "You've got ketchup on your cheek. You might want to wipe it off."
Text Copyright © 1999-2000 Karen Frank
