Page 38 of Fly Boy
He’s using Liam as a buffer, hiding behind his co-pilot like that would make a single bit of difference. I have no problem talking to him whether Liam is here or not. I don’t care. I’m Phillipa Cartwright, for fuck’s sake. I’m no stranger to hard work. Iwouldn’t be on podiums, winning medals, making a name in skating if I was.
The problem is that not only do we have another person on the jet with us—a sweet, bubbly young man who is interested in my profession—but they lock themselves away in the cockpit as soon as they know I’m on board, only coming out to do whatever they need to do before takeoff.
I’m grumbling to myself, finishing lacing up my skates as a high pitched voice rings around the changing rooms.
“Miss Pippa! Miss Pippa!” A girl with white-blonde hair tied in high pigtails whirls around the corner, her jacket sleeve hanging haphazardly off her shoulder, her bag dragging along the ground behind her. “Miss Pippa, they came back!”
I grin, holding out my hand and beckoning with my fingers. “Let's see then.”
Daisy skids to a halt and lifts the bag onto the bench next to me, unzipping it with shaking hands. “They look so good, Miss Pippa.”
As she carefully lifts one out, my heart squeezes. My old boots look amazing. The pink is brighter, the decals are more defined, and they look brand new, making the fresh laces pop against the leather.
She points to a drawing of something that wasn’t there before. “Look,” she beams proudly, poking a small daisy on the boot's heel. “The lady added it just for me.”
Daisy’s excitement is contagious, and my cheeks ache from smiling. “It’s gorgeous. Did she draw one on both?”
She nods quickly, her pigtails bouncing. “Yeah.” She then proceeds to take out the other one and shows me the same flower on that one, too.
“A special flower for a special girl,” I tell her, placing the boots on the floor beside mine. “Did they sharpen the blades too?”
She shakes her head. “No, they’re new.”
I need to make a mental note to thank Evan’s cousin for doing this for me. I know I shouldn’t have favorites out of the group of little girls I teach how to skate, but there’s something about Daisy that I can’t help but love. Plus, my old skates are too small for me now, so why not give them to someone who can benefit from them?
“Very lucky,” I coo, watching her sit on the mats and take off her sneakers. “Be careful with them, though. They’re a lot sharper than your old skates.”
“I know,” she says in that tone kids do when you’ve told them something obvious.
“Cheeky.” I get to my feet and teasingly tug on one of her pigtails. “Put your stuff away, and I’ll meet you on the ice, okay?”
She doesn’t answer me as she sticks out her tongue in concentration, lacing up the skates. My stomach flutters as I walk out into the rink, the nine other girls chatting by the side as Gigi, my assistant, watches over them.
“Morning, girls,” I call out as I approach them.
“Good morning, Miss Pippa,” they echo back, their faces filling with smiles.
“Who’s ready to learn some spins?”
“Meeee,” they squeal. Loudly. And I glance at Gigi, smothering a laugh.
“Okay then,” Gigi says. Clapping her hands, she opens the door to the rink. “Let’s do some warm-up laps while we get One Direction on.”
“No, Miss Gigi,” Delilah scolds. “We like Taylor Swift now.”
Gigi gasps in mock horror, her hand flying to her chest. “How could I forget? Okay, well, let me see youshake offthose arms and wiggle those hips. We’ve got a spring recital to practice for.” She joins the girls on the ice as I connect my phone to the arena’s Bluetooth and click on the playlist for my girls, which mainly consists of the biggest pop star in the world right now.
By the time our hour-long lesson ends, the girls are rosy-cheeked and exhausted. They file off the ice, each high-fiving me and Gigi as they make their way back to the changing rooms.
“Remember to come back here when you’re ready so we know you’ve left with your parents,” I shout out, earning a round of “Yes, Miss Pippa.”I love that I can do this… that I can come to Lake Placid every Saturday and dedicate an hour of my day to teaching kids who might otherwise not have the chance to learn how to skate.
I pay for the ice time, I pay for the rink maintenance afterward, and I pay for Gigi’s time through tickets to my competitions because she won’t accept my money. She’s just happy to be involved in the sport after deciding that skating professionally wasn’t for her.
“Daisy, sweetie,” Gigi says, stopping the little girl with bright pink skates as she approaches the door. “Your mom’s gonna be a little late, so do you want to skate around for a bit longer?”
With a wide grin showing her missing front tooth, she takes off down the rink. Gigi grimaces, looking at me. “Do you mind staying with her? I would, but Daniel’s picking me up.”
I step onto the ice and touch her shoulder, squeezing it. “Of course.” It’s not like I’m in a rush to get back to the closed door of the cockpit and my frustration at being ignored anyway. Spinning backward, I pump my eyebrows suggestively. “Say hi to Danny for me.”
