Page 26 of Wonderstruck

“Remember you?” she laughed, gliding right up to the edge. “Rory Greene, are you kidding? I still carry a picture of me, you, and your mom to every competition.”

My jaw practically hit the floor.

Aspen grinned, tucking the pieces of her hair that had slipped from the bun behind her ears. “Ihaven’t seen you in… forever. What’s it been—years?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a littlesqueaky. “Like, a lot of years.” I don’t know if she picked up on the swell of emotion that had wedged in my throat.

Aspen reached out for me over therailing, I didn’t hesitate to move closer. Considering we were surrounded by ice, her hands were surprisingly warm as they wrapped around mine.“How have you been?”

I stared at her, trying to find an answer that wouldn’t make me burst into tears.“I’ve been… better,” I admitted. “I mean, I was great—perfect, even. Well, maybe not perfect… but, I was okay. But then, you know… life happened. And now everything’s, uh, kind of a mess.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, and I winced, waiting for her to back awayslowly and call security. Instead, she just tilted her head, her green eyes softening like she could see right through me.

And then, as if channelling every mom-like instinct she’d ever learned frommine, Aspen skated her thumb gently over the back of my hand. “Want to have a catch-up?”

Somehow, that was enough to calm the sweatstorm happening under my scarf.

I nodded, only softly. “Yes, please.”

Her smile was warm and easy, like it hadn’t been years since we’d last spoken.“Give me five minutes and I’m all yours.”

I swallowed the last bit of the lump in my throat and nodded. “Thank you.”

She let go of my hands and glided off the ice with the same grace she always had, disappearing into thechanging rooms. I waited in the stands, my leg bouncing on the anti-slip rubber the ground was laid with. When Aspen reappeared, skates in hand, she plopped down next to me with a soft sigh.

“So,” she said, turning to me with acurious tilt of her head. “Wanna tell me why you’re here?”

The words tumbled out before Icould stop them. “Dad passed away a few months ago.”

Sympathy flooded her eyes, herhead bowing like someone had taken a knife to her back. She was there for mom’s funeral. She knew what this meant for me.

She blew out a breath before hereyes locked on mine again. “Aurora, I’m so sorry.”

My smile pulled tight. I think I’d run out of responses to this somewhere inJuly. But I nodded. “Me too.”

Before I could let the weight of everything settle back on my shoulders, I tucked my grown-out curtain bangs behind my ears, swallowing a breath as I met her stare. “But I guess the reason why I came here today is because I’m not happy.”

Aspen didn’t flinch, didn’tblink—just waited, her eyes steady and clear, like they could hold whatever I needed to say.

“I don’t think I’ve been happy for awhile, actually,” I admitted, my voicebarely above a whisper. “Not because of my friends or my life here. I enjoy college, but…” I took a deep breath, staring at the frost on the rink glass. “I don’t think I was ever doing college for myself.”

Aspen tilted her head slightly, asmall smile breaking through. “Okay… who do you think you were doing it for?”

“My dad,” I said without hesitation.“And the world, I guess. It’s just what we’re told to do. School, college, job, marriage, white picket fence, minivan full of soccer gear…”

Her laugh was like a breeze, one that made me sink into the gentle connection I forgot existed between us.

“I feel like… since Mom, I’ve lost a part of myself. And I didn’t even realise ituntil…” I swung my backpack off my shoulder, unzipping it with shaky hands. A second later, I pulled out my skates. “I found these.”

Aspen’s eyes widened, her gaze tracing the white leather-like it held a secret. “To find them,” she said carefully, her voice soft, “that means you had to have stopped using them.” She glanced up at me, her expression unreadable. “You don’t skate anymore?”

I shook my head.

“The last time I saw you, you were heading for sectionals. She had big plansfor you Ror, and even I expected you to be trying out for the Olympics by now.” Sorrow took over her expression. “But I have a feeling I know why you stopped.”

I nodded, knowing what she was trying to say.“After Mom, I just… couldn’t. And after we left Honeywood, I did everything I could to avoid skating. It hurt too much to even think about.”

“And now?” she asked, leaning slightly closer, her head tilted in curiosity.

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