Class had been reshuffled in earth science so that we could sit by our partners and work on our project. John took one look at me and smiled wryly. "Figured it out, I see," he said.
"I'm embarrassed to admit it took the rest of the day before the light bulb went on," I confessed.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't let it out," he said very quietly, and I nodded. "I figure you're here for the same reason I am, to avoid recognition. When I'm done skating, I'm going to go to college, and this was the better school--although Metro isn't bad--and a chance to put some distance between the weirdness that is figure skating and real life."
"How'd you come up with the last name Park?" I asked, curious.
"It's my mom's maiden name and my middle name. I'm still registered at the district as John Tang, but here at the school they use Park." He looked at me curiously. "I kind of forgot that Starry had a sister, to be honest. There's never a mention of you in the articles, but I remember that I saw you at the rink for family day. Your hair is memorable."
I was sidetracked. "The articles?"
"Yeah, there have been a few reporters up at the rink interviewing him the past few months. One was for Ice International. There's going to be an interview with both of us for US Figure Skating next week, they're calling us the future of men's figure skating. I guess you didn't know."
"All I said was that I didn't want to be just Starry Knight's sister," I said softly. Then Mr Tiller clapped his hands and gave us more information about how we needed to format our presentations; we'd be doing PowerPoint presentations for the class, but he also wanted hard copies from each of us so he could comment and attach our grading rubric.
"The geology is actually pretty interesting," I said to John. He nodded and said that he'd found that there was almost no free oxygen in the atmosphere during our assigned era, but nevertheless it looked like there was some life at the beginning. We started talking about a supercontinent during the Neoarchaean called Kenoeland and what was currently thought about the single-celled organisms existing during this time, identifying new paths of inquiry. "I can search for sources, and when I get to work, I can request them if they're academic journals."
"Where do you work?" John asked.
"The library. I'm a page there."
"Ah. You've probably seen my little brother there," he said. "He spends half his time at the skateboarding park and half at the library."
"How old is he?"
"He's thirteen, but if you see a skinny geek in the nonfiction in the cars and engineering sections, that's probably Paul," he said affectionately. "He wants to be a mechanical engineer, and he's got a thing for cars. He wants to get a classic car and restore it. My parents are thrilled." At my questioning look, he elaborated. "Our parents expect both of us to be high achievers. They're fully supportive of my skating, but the tradeoff is that when my career is over, I'll be going to college rather than really work in the sport, like coaching or commentating."
"What do you want to study?"
"I'm thinking actually about sports medicine or something along those lines. I like the idea of using the knowledge I've gained as an athlete. My parents are very happy with that kind of career path." He smiled. "What about you?"
"Oh, I'm going to college, I'm just not sure what I want to study. I took some tests at my old school in Michigan, but the results were all over the place. I have an appointment with the guidance office tomorrow for some different ones. I feel like I need to have a general idea of what I want to do so I can make some informed choices when I go to apply to colleges." He nodded and we talked a little about SAT prep until the bell rang.
After school, Grandpa picked me up and I told him about my day, especially the earth sciences project, as we explored a park. He was a little dubious that we could make that time period sound interesting, but when I explained the little I'd already learned he revised his opinion, and was interested in John Park. "He sounds surprisingly grounded," was his analysis, and I agreed.
"He's got a better view of what he wants to do than I do," I said ruefully. "But I have an appointment with the guidance counselor tomorrow for some tests that should help me identify some interests."
"What's the rush?" Grandpa asked.
"Well, the SATs are coming up, and I have to put down schools I want them to be sent to, and it would help if I had an idea what I wanted to study so I could make some good matches."
"Well, if you go to a big university, you'll have lots of opportunities to figure out what you want to do, punkin," he pointed out.
I hesitated, then decided to tell him what was really bugging me. "But what I'm worried about is that if I don't have a plan, Mom and Dad will make me go to a community college close to this town. It's not that I'm opposed to saving money in general, but I want to go to college, get the full experience." Grandpa frowned.
"Well, let's not worry about financial aid right now," he said sensibly. "Your grades are good, and there are scholarships and grants available too, plus don't forget that your grandma left you a savings account with forty thousand dollars. That will be a big help." He patted my hand. "Don't forget, your parents do want the best for you, but they also can't force you to go to college someplace you don't want to." I smiled, and we went to dinner before he dropped me off a little early at work.
Ms de Carvalho, one of the reference librarians, helped me research my topic and put in some requests for materials to Stanford, and we chatted a little about the project. I felt really good as I pulled out the first cart for shelving. This was a mixed media cart, with CDs, DVDs, newspapers, and magazines. As I was paused in the magazines, I looked for the International Ice magazine and located the back issue with the interview with Stan and John. It was easy to find; the cover was a picture of the two of them in warmups with the logo of the rink on the left chest, back to back in a cliched pose. I read it quickly; there were quotes from Mom and Dad about how proud they were of him, yada yada, but John was right. No mention that Stan wasn't the only child. In contrast, John's parents talked about both their sons, even if they didn't mention the younger one by name. I felt a little resentment simmering. I don't want to be known just as Starry Night's little sister, but that doesn't mean that I want to be invisible, either. About eight, I practically tripped over a gangly kid in loose skater clothes sitting between two bookcases with a pile of car guides in front of him.
"Sorry," he said, grabbing the books and reshelving some.
"You're Paul, aren't you?" I asked, feeling pretty certain about this identification.
He grinned. "You're whatsername, John's partner on that project, aren't you? Del something?"
"Delia." Paul got to his feet and stuck out his hand, which I shook.
"Nice to meet you. We could form our own support group, siblings of famous skaters." I couldn't help it, I laughed. He checked his watch. "Crap. I'm late, John's picking me up on the way home." He started putting books back.
"I can do that for you," I offered. "It's my job."
"I'll take you up on that this time," he said after a moment of hesitation. "I'll manage my time better next time." He handed me a stack of books, grabbed a skateboard that I hadn't noticed tipped up against the end of the bookcase, and pelted off with a couple of books to check out.
Aside from meeting Paul, my night was pretty quiet and the most interesting thing was the signup for snacks for the pages' monthly meeting. I could make some banana bread. Grandpa was waiting for me after closing, and it was nice to chat about my day. I wished that he wasn't going home the next day.
The next week we had midterms for the classes that had them--not all of them did--and our grades went out. I did pretty well, mostly As, a B in coding, and just scraped a C in trig. John suggested going to the other trig teacher for help. "She comes in early every day, teachers are required to come in early twice a week but she does five days, and she help anybody who shows up," he said. "You don't have to be taking her class. She explains things really well." So I gave that a shot, and it was a huge help. I'm not going to lie and said that the truth about trig was miraculously revealed to me but the way she explained it made so much more sense and was logical. Mostly. As much as trig is logical, I guess. She also said that it can be helpful to teach somebody how to do it; you have to figure it out for yourself and articulating it helps you understand it better, so when I got home that night I took a stuffed animal, put it on my desk, and tried to explain. The rabbit, one thrown at Stan at his first competition as an elite skater that he saved for me, didn't seem to get it, but I felt that I understood how to do the problems better.
Huh.
John and I gave our presentation for the class, and those who were paying attention actually seemed interested. I crossed "teacher" off the list of possible future professions. The thought of trying to get through to a bunch of mostly indifferent teenagers every day was too awful to contemplate. It had been on a list of professions that I'd shown an aptitude for but not one for which I had a particular interest. The guidance counselor was puzzled by my results. I had an aptitude for a large variety of careers--as I'd seen on the tests I'd taken back home--but my interests didn't intersect much.
"You have a significant aptitude for helping/interpersonal and communication careers as well as mechanical and mathematics careers, and to a lesser extent, scientific careers," she said. But your interests lie with artistic and mathematical expression. Interesting." So we talked about some careers for me to investigate--things like economics, engineering, sciences like physics or geology. We also talked about college board tests--she said I should take both the ACT and SAT, and the writing test for the ACTs and the PSAT. I'd planned on doing the PSAT anyway, and she had some recommendation for study courses. I went away feeling pretty good about things, and I went to the library early to do some research on these career choices.
I parked under a light by other staff cars, a distance away from the doors so as to allow the patrons the best parking, and paused to watch the skateboarders at the park as they rolled up and down the slopes and skidded across rails. One kid hopped off his board right by me, and I was surprised for a minute until I recognized Paul. "You ride?" he asked, and I shook my head. "You want to try? It's fun." It did look like fun.
"Ok," I said, and he pushed me gently to see which foot went out to catch myself from falling. It was my right, so he had me step on the board with my right foot forward. He kept the board from rolling as I wiggled around and leaning around so I could get used to the feel of the board. Then I pushed off on a level part of the skating park, and once I was comfortable rolling forward, he told me how to make mellow and sharp turns, and, most importantly from my perspective, how to stop. Some of his friends stopped to watch and offer their own tips.
"You're good," one boy said. "You should get a board of your own and come back."
"There aren't enough girls," one girl said. "It's fun." But I had to get to work. I used my break to access a library database to pull up a list of careers to consider and printed it out for later.
A couple of days later I bought myself a skateboard, a basic model, black with a phoenix on it, with a helmet and protection for my wrists, elbows, and knees. On a day that I didn't have to work, I went to the skating park to practice. Paul wasn't there, but the girl I'd spoken to was, and she helped get me feeling more natural and confident on the board. Her name was Zayna, and it turned out that she went to the other high school. She was also a junior, and we agreed to meet at the park Saturday afternoon and hang out.
John laughed when I told him I'd gotten a skateboard. "Paul will be thrilled he's got a convert," he said.
"Do you skateboard too?" I asked.
"Not much anymore, there isn't the time. But maybe I'll stop by after practice if I'm done early enough." I had a hard time imagining John on a skateboard.
The next day at work, we were told that those of us working on Halloween could wear a costume if we wanted and as long as it didn't impede our job performance, and we were definitely encouraged to wear a funny t-shirt or make some concession to the holiday. The circulation librarians would be handing out treats and there would be special story times for the kids. It sounded like fun and I was glad I was working that day. Stan wasn't; it meant that he'd have to stay home and man the door. But he complained to the parents, and they said that if he didn't want to, we just wouldn't hand out candy this year. So Stan decided to go to the Halloween dance they were having at his school.
Halloween was fun. At school, some of the teachers had bowls of candy on their desks that we could raid, and I wore a black t-shirt and jeans and styled my hair so it was big and fluffy and pretty. Who needs an orange headband when you're a natural redhead? Before I went to work, I put on fake eyelashes that had curved white feathers rather than eyelashes. They were really cute but surprisingly heavy. I was going to take them off before driving home. The librarians and other pages got a kick out of them and the little kids were fascinated.
The next day I got up late and spent the afternoon at the skating park. Mom wasn't happy that I hadn't run my purchase by her first, she thought it was dangerous, and it was a lot of money for something I might not like for very long. I showed her my protective gear and refrained from saying that I should be able to spend the money I made the way I wanted and escaped as soon as I could. I drove to the park, not confident in my ability to stay on the board over bumps in the pavement or in traffic, and while Zayna wasn't there yet, some of the other kids encouraged me to try the gentler hills of the park. It was fun to go up and down. When Zayna got there, she showed me how to do something called a manual, which was where the nose of the board lifts and you're going along on the rear wheels, like a wheelie but for skateboards. It was my first trick. I fell a few times until I got the hang of it, but it wasn't hard. I had a good time; the kids were cool and sometimes I just watched the really skilled boarders with their flashy moves. It was the best afternoon I'd had in Duke's Crossing.