Page 23 of Wonderstruck

He sat back on his knees, shuffling to get more comfortable as the floor boards creaked below him. “It's just…” He hesitated, looking back at me with an earnestness I hadn’t expected. “You never said anything to me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I didn’t realise I had to share every detail of my life with you.”

Those soft green pools rolled, but there was a clear undercurrent that let me catch a glimpse of the boy I met last year. “No, I just mean…” He ran a hand through his hair, the strands darker in the attic’s light. “Don't you think we had enough in common to be more than what we were last year. Like French, and now skating? I don’t know, I just thought you’d mention it. That’s all.”

His words, so casual, made my pulse jump, but the warmth in his eyes only pushed me back into the memories I’d worked so hard to avoid. Memories of me practically leaning closer to him as I waited for his answer. Memories of me crying in my room that still hurt to think about.

I couldn’t hold back. “To be honest, I don’t think I had time to bond with you before you turned me down, shut me out and pretended I didn't exist.” My voice went low, sharp. “Is that a good enough reason as to why I kept this a secret?”

The words hung between us like smoke, and I watched the shift in his expression, saw the faint hint of regret in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I swallowed the bitterness that rushed up. “Then what did you mean?”

His eyes flickered—anger, frustration, projection, something else—but before I could fully catch it, he turned away, the tension in his face disappearing as quickly as it appeared. He slid effortlessly back into his usual bravado, like it was a coat of arms he wore to protect himself. “Whatever." That golden boy smile became the light in the room, but everything about it was synthetic. "It doesn’t matter.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but he was already on his feet. He didn’t even glance at me as he grabbed for the attic stairs, the air around him seeming to thicken, like he was pulling himself away from me, shutting me out with every step he took.

"I need some air," he muttered, his voice flat, like he couldn’t even be bothered to explain himself. His movements were brisk, like he had no intention of staying. Like I meant nothing.

And just like that, he was gone. The silence slammed into me, thick and suffocating, leaving me in its wake.

I stayed frozen, staring at the stairs where he had just been. His scent lingered in the space like a memory I couldn’t shake. Earthy. Woodsy. Like rain after a dry spell, rich and deep. The scent twisted something deep inside me—aching, wanting.

Desperation to figure out where that boy who'd laughed with me the first night we'd met, who'd asked me a billion and one questions about me, had disappeared to.

But whatever feelings I thought Finn had for me—whatever strange pulls there had been between us—were clearly nonexistent anymore. The realisation hit harder than I wanted it to, sharp as the blades my eyes were zoning in on.

This was us now. Just strangers who had once shared something real. And that had to be good enough. Because waiting on a wish that he'll magically like me was like waiting for the ceiling to cave in.

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away, but the ache remained.

I turned down to the box in my lap, my fingers trembling as I looked at the skates—old and worn, but as familiar as this home was. And the longer I sat with them, the more things became clearer.

What had I been doing? Waiting for someone else to fix me? Waiting for someone else's dreams to become my own? To make me feel whole again? To make mehappy?

I glanced around the attic, the empty space a reminder of who I had left to depend on.

Finn was gone, and whatever happened between us… it wasn’t the answer. My parents were gone, but clinging to the past was only going to keep me trapped there.

I clenched my jaw, pushing back the hurt. Happiness wasn’t going to come from him, or from anyone.

I let out a slow breath, my chest tightening.

Maybe skating was the answer I was looking for. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for me to come back to it. Because I deserved fun. I’d spent so long doing everything else to make everyone elsehappy that I’d never made the time for myself. Maybe it was time I stopped putting everyone else's happiness before mine and finally thought about myself, what I wanted, how I wanted to feel.

Before I could think myself out of it, I threw caution to the wind and tore the skates from the box, tucked them under my arms and bolted out of the attic.

I was going to skate again, and maybe, hopefully, I'd find my way back to the girl I used to be before heartbreak was the only thing that carried her.

chapter seven

she's my ghost of skating past

Ineeded a plan B because, as it turned out, bringing happiness back into my life was coming at a price. A price I couldn’t afford unless Flo decided that she wanted to up my hourly rate to $800 an hour.

And I was good at pouring coffeeand handing people pastries, but not that good.

I’d been sitting at my desk looking at rink hiring for the past hour, and thecheapest I’d found was a hundred dollars over what I could afford.

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