Page 50 of Wonderstruck

As I made it to the middle and began a lap,Aspen skated beside me, her sharp eyes catching every detail as I warmed up with some basic drills. My crossovers felt fluid after the first few sets, and my edges were more secure. I tried to not overthink each movement, and for the most part, the extra headspace allowed me to breathe.

“Nice,” Aspen said after a few laps, nodding inapproval. “You’ve still got it.”

“Yeah?” My brow quirked.

“Oh yeah.” She nodded. “Let yourself get morecomfortable, and if you’re feeling up to it, try and improvise a little. But only if you feel confident enough. There’s no pressure here, remember.”

My stomach flipped. Improvising wasnotmystrong suit—it never had been. Even as a kid, I’d clung to choreographed routines like a safety net. But something about Aspen’s confidence, her unbridled support, made me want to try.

I skated to a stop and looked over at her. “Can Ihave some music?” My lips slid up into a grin as her brows shot up. “It might help. You know, jog some old choreography. Inspire me.”

Aspen skated to the edge, already pulling out herphone. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” I said softly, focusing on myskates.

Seconds later, the opening lyrics ofFoolish Onespilt through the rink’s speakers.

I whipped my head up, an incredulous look on myface. “Really?”

Aspen shrugged, spinning lazily in a circle with asmirk. “Channel all that frustration. You’ve got pleanty, if I recall you’re rambling from before?”

She wasn’t wrong. The song hit too close tohome, stirring the ache I’d buried beneath layers of indifference. Finn. The hope I hated having. The stupid, barely-there moments where I thought he might see me the way I saw him.

The fire in my chest roared to life, feeding on those feelings, and before I knew it, I was moving.

I took a lap around the rink, letting the musicguide. On the chorus, I surrendered to instinct, throwing myself into a single lutz. My landing was shaky, but I didn’t care. The adrenaline coursed through me, breaking down walls I’d forgotten I’d built so high.A spiral here, a loop there—each move flowedfrom something nostalgic. Memories surfaced with each glide and spin, filling my chest with warmth.

Therink became my world. The music paintedemotions I couldn’t put into words, and the ice carried me effortlessly through them. For the first time in years, I wasn’t chasing perfection or approval. I wasn’t trying to save a dream that was never mine.

I was chasing the happiness I thought I’d lost.

The final notes faded into silence, leaving mebreathless. My chest rose and fell, exhilaration coursing through me. Aspen stood frozen near the edge, her clipboard hanging limply at her side. She hadn’t spoken a word.

“Uh…” I tugged at the sleeve of my top, nervousenergy creeping in as my breaths slowed. “Was that okay?”

Aspen blinked as though waking from a dream.“Okay?” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh and skated toward me. “That was… you haven’t skated since your Mom?”

I shook my head, my chest still heaving.

Her mouth parted as she blew out a breath, herfree hand raking through those auburn strands, an emotion I didn’t know what to call screwing up her face. But before I could venture a guess, she set he eyes back on me. “This is gonna sound bonkers but… Rory with time and effort, wecouldget you competing again.”

My breath caught.

Competing? The word hit melike a gust of cold air.

“Competing?” I echoed, my voice barely above awhisper.

“I remember you being good,” she said, her toneserious now. “But I’ve never seen this much potential in someone before.” She let a laugh slip, like she still couldn’t believe I was even here, let alone skating. “If you haven’t skated properly for what? Almost ten years? Andthatis what you bring to the table with improv. Imagine what you’d be like with practice!” She nodded. “You should train with me.”

“Train?” My voice sounded small, the idea so bigit was almost suffocating.

She skated closer, her cheeks almost the sameshade as her hair. “Listen, I’ve been running novice classes since the start of summer. You could join. There’s a recital two weeks on saturday, and trust me, you’ll pick up the choreography easily if we polish what’s just come back to you. And we could get you graded. You could be ready for this—”

“Wait. Just… wait.” My voice wavered, my heartpounding in my throat as I skated back. “I don’t know if I can—if I’m—” I trailed off, staring at the ice beneath my skates. The reflection of the rink lights blurred as my vision swam. “I haven’t done this in years. Competing? Training? That’s not my life anymore. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Aspen was quiet for a moment, her skates slicinggentle lines into the ice as she drifted a little closer. “Rory,” she sighed, her voice softer now. “I know it feels big. Too big. But I need you to hear me on this—you already started. The moment you laced up your skates, the moment you stepped back onto this ice, you started. You belong here.”

My throat tightened as her words wrappedaround me. “I don’t know if I can be that person again.”

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