Page 34 of Wonderstruck

Bindi squeezed my shoulder, her grin full of encouragement. “You’re going tokill it out there. Just remember to smile—and maybe try not to think about your boobs too much.”

“Impossible,” I deadpanned.

Remember why you’re doing this, Rory. Two hours of dancing in this torturedevice and you’ll have just enough for a class with Aspen. Enough for time on the ice. Alone. Just the way you need it to be.

I’d do anything for that chance, which was why I lifted my head from where itrested against the railing, shaking out my arms as though that would jolt the nerves loose. I silently ran through the choreography, the steps tumbling through my mind like a mantra.

Taking a steadying breath, I turned to face the rest of the squad. Bindi stood inthe centre, her sharp, confident energy practically glowing as she led the huddle. Around her, the team was a patchwork of new and old: the original three cheerleaders, four new sophomore recruits, and a freshman guy who was hands down the tallest human I’d ever seen.

Bindi’s voice rose above the klaxon asshe glanced at the clock. “Alright, ladies… and Brandon! It’s showtime! If you forget what you’re doing then say a prayer and make whatever you’re doing look intentional. Freestyle if you have to.” Before she broke away, her eyes widened. “Oh, and have fun!”

I nodded, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, but no oneseemed to notice. Instead, Bindi shot me a wink as the group began moving toward the stage.

Just keep the caramel corn down, Rory. You can do that, surely.

My heart thumped hard enough to rival the music that was about to play, but I dug my heels in, pulling every ounce of courage from every corner of my body.

“Let’s go, Rory!” Bindi’s grin caught the light as she gestured for me to follow.

I stepped forward, my legs trembling with every move, though I managed tostay upright. My hands gripped the pom-poms so tightly they crackled in protest.

The opening beat ofShake It Offthumped through the arena, the familiarity ofthe notes washing over me, relaxing me that littlebit. In front of me, Bindi moved like she was born for this. Her hips swayed effortlessly, her arms slicing through the air like she’d been choreographing this for years. I tried to follow, the steps coming fromvague muscle memory rather than instinct. My pom-poms shot up to spell G-O L-I-O-N-S as we practised, and I prayed my arms wouldn’t betray me halfway through.

When the sequence came to an end andthe song switched toRun Boy Run, theLions started skating onto the ice, and thecrowd’s cheers surged. My gaze flickered toward the players, and my chest tightened for a moment, knowing who was out there. But the fear didn’t consume me the way I’d expected.

“Next sequence guys! Let's do it!”” Bindihollered, spinning back into position like a spitfire. She threw a hand in the air to count us in as the height of the song pulsed around the rink.

My shoulders squared, and I looked out towards the ice, but my eyes, traitorsthat they were, slipped south, catching a pair of emerald green ones locked on me. They burned in a way that made my skin feel warm, like I was sitting too close to a crackling fire. Every spark from his gaze ignited something I knew I shouldn’t crave.

Because my plan—my fragile, carefully crafted plan—to be happy again, didn’tinclude heartbreak. It couldn’t. So whatever dynamic Finn and I had been stuck in for the past year had to stay exactly as it was: distant, safe.

Not like last year, when everything went off script.

I’d rushed to his side after the accident without a second thought. I could still picture the stark white of the hospital room,the machines humming softly around us, and the way his hand felt in mine. We didn’t say much, but the silence said pleanty. I thought about that day more than I should—how I’d come so close to telling him I still felt something. How my heart had been pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

And how, in hindsight, I was thankful we were interrupted.

Because if I’d told him—if I’d let those feelings spill out—it would’ve beenheartbreak, round two: the sequel no one asked for. Knowing what came only a few months later, losing Dad so suddenly, I realised now how lucky I was to still have my heart intact enough to grieve him fully.

No extra weight dragging me down. No shards of broken glass threatening totear it apart.

So, I broke away from his gaze andcarried on dancing, ignoring every pull that told me to search for him.

I was high on adrenaline when I stepped off the stage, right as the klaxonsounded to signify the end of the second period. I felt it in my steps, in the backs of my knees that felt so tingly I was sure they were about to cave in.

My position in the formation meant I had a perfect view of the concessionstand, and truthfully, all I’d been thinking about since the end of our second routine was rewarding myself with one of everything they sold.

Asthe murmur from the crowds began, we bounded together in a messyhuddle, before each of us went off for our breaks. I had my sights set on the concession stand as I jogged off the stage and rounded the rink, the idea of a crisp cherry Dr. Pepper making me salivate—

“Oh God, I’m sorry—Ryan.”

I looked up, my heart stopping.

What was going on today? Why was I bumping into all the boys that had brokenmy heart? Was this some orchestrated joke that they’d planned to keep up their vow to ruin my life?

“Rory, hey.” His smile stretched across his face, that golden-boy charmpractically dripping off him like honey.

If you didn’t know Ryan, that smilewould get you—no question. It got me the day we met. And the way his thick brown hair flipped, like he’d just stepped out of a teen movie? Yeah, my pulse skyrocketed so fast that I had a genuine moment of wondering if I was about to drop dead.

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