Monday John and I chatted about our holiday at lunch. "My grandparents came up, and Grandma fixed her famous barbeque," he said, patting his stomach. "I'd have brought some for lunch so you could try it, but we ate it all. It never lasts long." He laughed, and when I asked for recommendations, named a couple of Korean and Chinese restaurants that served authentic dishes. "In my experience, they're authentic. I can't speak for some cuisines, like Szechuan, because I don't like really spicy food."
"Me either," I said, and when he asked, told him about how I'd helped Grandpa make our Thanksgiving dinner.
"I love seven minute icing," he said covetously. "It's like a big soft marshmallow, only better. And if it's dry enough that it gets that delicate crust? That's the best." I laughed. It was usually too humid for that to happen around here.
In French, our teacher reminded us that we'd be getting our registration for next semester the first week of December, and came over to where I was doing my self-study. "Delia, we don't really have a class for your level of knowledge, but if you'd like to continue with French, I'll see what I can do to make your learning more personalized and less solitary." I thanked her and remembered to text Mom when I got to my locker, asking her to look into changing my math class. Although trig was over this semester and we were moving on to pre-calc, I didn't want to suffer through my teacher for a whole other semester. I volunteered to switch any other class but earth science. When I checked my phone after school--we weren't allowed to have them in any of our classes--she'd left me a voicemail saying that she had made the request with one of the ladies who did the scheduling and that she'd let me know when she found out anything. I was in a cheerful mood when I popped in at home to drop off my books--I'd gotten my homework done in class--pack my dinner, and treated myself to some time at the skate park before work. One of the pages had quit, and I'd snapped up one of his shifts. I could have taken two, but I didn't want to be greedy.
Ms de Carvalho was teaching me more about book repair, getting into book binding a little. If a book was in otherwise good condition but losing pages, she showed me how to cut the pages--called a block when referring to all of them--out of the book, align the pages, and put the block into a jig which was a wooden board, two bolts on one side, and an L shaped metal thing that screwed down over the bolts and had holes at regular intervals on the side that rested against the pages. The she picked up a drill and drilled through about half the holes before handing it to me. It felt wonderfully transgressive somehow, and I finished putting the holes through the book. Then she carefully released the block and used a thick needle with linen thread to go through the holes and across the back to stitch it all together. Then some glue, and she used a special tape on the spine of the book, working it under the endpapers, and set it aside for the glue to cure. That was kind of the highlight, and I went back to shelving shortly after. Returning an empty cart, I tripped and fell, hurting my wrist. On the way home, I stopped at the Walgreens and picked up some tape for my wrist--it was a little swollen--and a pink reusable ice pack. Starry would probably throw a fit for some reason if I used his.
"Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself at the skate park?" Mom asked when I got home and saw what I'd bought.
"If I'd been skateboarding, I would have been wearing my wrist guards," I said in exasperation. "But if you don't believe me, you can check with the library. They had me sit down with one of those instant ice packs and a librarian, who helped me fill out an incident report." They'd also offered to take me to an urgent care to have my wrist looked at, but it wasn't that bad. "Then they had me show them where I'd tripped. The carpet edge had come up a little. They put an orange cone on it and Facilities is going to come out tomorrow." The level of detail in my recitation calmed her down. "I don't know why you're so against me having a skateboard. I never ride without my equipment, and it's not like I do any dangerous tricks."
"Because it can be dangerous, Delia. I've seen video of kids getting hurt. And I really don't want to get a call telling me that my daughter's been in an accident."
"Mom, I'm just doing it for fun, you can calm down, it's not like I'm grinding rails. I don't know why you're trying to squash the one thing I have that's really fun," I said impatiently, and she backed off. Reluctantly.
But she did come through for me with the math class, and I was transferred to Ms Starmore's honors precalculus. I did have some other changes--my gym was switched to a different period and I wasn't going to be able to fit in French, so I had to come up something different there, but that was ok. I also switched my elective; I didn't like coding, so I put down either psychology or creative writing. I was getting antsy about my PSAT score, which I'd taken back in October. It hadn't seemed very hard, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing because it was easy or a bad thing because I blew it and didn't even know.
I was at work one evening the next week when my phone started vibrating. I ignored it the first time, but when another text came in, I moved to the end of the bookshelf by the wall and checked. They were from John. "Wanted to let you know Starry took a bad fall. They called your parents," the first one read. John was the only kid I knew who texted in full sentences and words. "Looks like they're taking him to the doctor," the second one read. I quickly texted thanks for the information, and hesitated, wondering what to do. But I couldn't give consent to any medical procedures if needed, and I didn't even know where they were taking him, so I figured the best thing was to sit tight. I did text Grandpa, though, then I got back to work. About a half hour later, Mom called and told me what I already knew--that Starry had been hurt-- and that he had a wrist injury and a hamstring injury. They were coming home and he'd need to be evaluated the next day by a specialist. I prepared myself when I heard that, and sure enough, she didn't disappoint, asking me to drive him to the doctor's appointment, which was late in the afternoon after school but before work.I didn't feel like I could refuse, although I wanted to. She also asked me to stop by the pharmacy on the way home to pick up his prescription. I knew it would be big high-dose ibuprofin pills, since they could help with inflammation and Starry had taken an opiod for an injury when he was younger and didn't like it, wouldn't take it now.
When I got home, Mom was on the phone with Grandpa, so I took the prescription in to Starry, who was, as I expected, being a big diva. I handed him the little bag with the prescription information stapled to it and retreated to my room.
The next day, John asked me how he was. I knew they were friendly; they'd done things together off the ice, so I told him what I knew. "Dr Isling is a really good doctor," he told me. "I went to him last year." He also gave me driving instructions; the practice was in San Francisco, where I'd never driven. Grandpa's car had GPS, but it was nice to know it wasn't going to be complicated to get there. I'd told the librarians what had happened and they said I could take off the shift if I wanted, but hopefully I'd only be late.
Starry had been allowed to stay home for the day, and it was like a big Broadway production number when I went to pick him up. It wasn't like he'd never been on crutches before. The wrist had just been sprained and he had a brace to wear. I shut the door on him when he'd gingerly gotten into the passenger seat and tossed the crutches into the back seat. He moaned about the injury, but I said that it didn't seem that bad. Nothing was broken.
"Jesus, Del, are you stupid?" he asked angrily. "Four Continents is next month, and I have to be ready. It's going to be huge."
"For you," I shot back. "It's just another day for me." Then we devolved into another argument, he accusing me of not being supportive. I rolled my eyes as I pulled into the parking lot and up to the door. "I'm taking my free time to get you here," I said, biting off the words. "I'm going to be missing some work because of it, and that's my only source of spending money. Unlike you, I have to work for what I want." His face turned red.
"Don't be a bitch," he snapped as he opened the door. "I can't help it if you aren't special." I was so mad I was actually mute, something that had never happened before. He got his crutches and slammed the door. I pulled away and parked, taking the time to calm down. For the first time, I started to think about how much longer I had to put up with this. A little over a year to the Olympics, then he could retire from amateur competition and have to do something else. Then it would be just a few more months past that and I'd graduate high school, a couple more months beyond that, and I'd be in college. I'd get some financial aid; I needed to get as much merit based stuff as possible because on paper it would look to the financial aid department like my parents could contribute a lot. I was already saving part of every paycheck--I kept my expenses minimal and put what was left from each one into the savings account my grandma had set up for me. It wasn't a lot, I got $12 an hour at the library, but it was slowly adding up. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. Starry was already back with the doctor, so I could just sit in the peaceful waiting room. It wasn't too long before the nurse came out and told me that they were almost done, so I went to bring the car around. Starry was laughing and joking with the nurse when she pushed him out to the curb in a wheelchair and got him settled in the car. He didn't say anything to me as I pulled away.
Dick.
He called mom on the way home and from this conversation I learned that the doctor was leaning to it being a Grade 2 hamstring strain, but it was on the line between 2 and 3, the most serious kind. He rubbed his left thigh as he talked, the one with the injury. I was just grateful it wasn't his right. When he got a little better, he'd be able to drive again, his car had an automatic transmission. There was a therapy they were going to do that had produced great results in other skaters, the use of platelet rich plasma, which exhibited regenerative potential and tissue healing properties in extensive clinical trials as well as anecdotal evidence in individual treatments. The doctor thought he'd be able to compete in Beijing. Then we were silent until we got back to the condo. "I don't have my keys." Starry finally spoke to me. I put the car in park, hopped out, and went to unlock the door. I sifted through the mail and pulled out a couple of things with my name, including a skateboarding magazine and put the rest back in the box. I went past Starry silently, and picked up a grilled chicken sandwich on the way to the library, which I finished sitting in the car. I took the envelope with me as I went inside, opening it to find my PSAT scores. I'd ranked in the 99th percentile, and the letter let me know that I was also in the running for a National Merit Scholarship as a result.
In the staff room, a couple of librarians on break were really pleased for me and congratulated me, and I took a moment to test Grandpa and my friends my news before grabbing a cart. Even noticing that it was for the children's section didn't dampen my spirits. Well, not much.
On my break, I checked my messages: Grandpa said he couldn't be prouder, and John and Maya had also reached the 99th percentile. None of my friends had done badly.
When I got home, I told mom my news. "That's great, honey," she said. "I'm proud of you. Now, could you drop off Stan at school tomorrow and take him to the rink? I can pick him up there, he needs to see the physios."
It only took a few days for Starry to be able to drive himself; I'd conveyed him to and fro silently. Finals were coming up and I really wanted to do well, so I cut back the time I spent at the park and spent more time at the library, where I studied, sometimes with classmates. And I took a few hours one Saturday to go to the mall with Zayna, Maya, Cass, Carol, and Keshondra to shop for Christmas gifts. I'd budgeted for Christmas, and I was helped by an agreement with my friends to exchange just small presents; I knew that they were doing it for me and I appreciated it.
Malls might be dying across America, but in Duke's Crossing, ours was going strong and had good sales. I got Mom a pretty blouse, Dad some new ties and dress socks as I'd noticed his were getting raggedy when I did laundry, and Grandpa some swim goggles and a lap counter. He'd given up on pickleball and was swimming again, thinking he might get involved with Masters swimming. Starry was harder, so I ended up getting him a couple rolls of kinesiology tape. Then we went to Carol's house to do a craft project. Her dad had cut us some squares of plywood and dowels. We painted them and cut pieces of tulle at gradually increasing widths, ran thread through one side, and gathered them into circles. We glued the dowels into a hole in the plywood base, and slid the tulle rings onto the dowel, making a tree shape. I'd gotten an iridescent white tulle, which looked like snow, and we sewed little glass balls onto the edges and glued a larger ball on the top of the dowel. It was possibly the only Christmas tree I'd get this year; there really wasn't room for one in the living room. I wasn't even sure we'd brought Christmas decorations with us. But the little trees were cute, and I put mine up on my dresser, wrapping my presents early and enjoying the sight from my bed.
The day after my finals were over, Grandpa flew in, just in time for a family Christmas party at the rink. I didn't want to go, but I didn't have a decent excuse so I had to. It was better than the other one, though; it was just a few hours this time, so everybody's families had to come in at the same time. There were snacks, then I took to the rink to get away from my family. Krista Prentiss skated up to me again, and this time she introduced a new coach, Marc Laurent, a former pairs champion from Canada. We skated around together and chatted a little. "A pity you didn't train too," Marc said, taking my hand and matching me.
"I told you," Krista said.
"There's only room for one star in the family," I said in French, and Marc laughed. We had a chat in French; Krista knew enough to join in too, then I saw John waving to me.
"You know John?" Krista asked.
"Yeah, we have earth sciences in school," I said, and excused myself.
"Come meet my grandparents," John said when I skated up. Paul zoomed past close by, startling me as we skated to the boards leisurely.
"Curse that kid," I said, and John laughed.
"Forget figure skating, Paul would be short track all the way," he said affectionately, and after we stepped off the rink, introduced me to his family. His Korean grandparents were shorter than even Paul was, his parents about as tall. He resembled the Korean side of his family strongly. They were really nice.
I returned the skates to the counter and introduced John to my parents and grandpa. Starry looked irked, but I ignored him. Grandpa asked him about school and skating, then he went to corral his little brother. I laughed as I watched this devolve into a game of tag. Then we went home. On the drive, I was squashed between Grandpa and a resentful Starry, who hadn't been cleared to skate yet. I ignored him as best as I could and we stopped by a restaurant on the way home. For the most part, everybody carefully ignored Starry's bad mood, but Grandpa poked at him a bit.
"You looked pretty skating with that coach, what's his name, Laurent," he said to me.
"He said it was too bad I didn't train too," I said matter-of-factly, spearing salad leaves. Dad frowned. "Don't worry, Dad, it's way too late for me."
"You never said you wanted to skate competitively," Dad said.
"When the skating coach asked you, I'd just completed my first class," I said impatiently. "I didn't even get the opportunity to say yes or no when Starry pitched his fit. Then it was too late. You took my silence to mean that I didn't want to." I'd only been around five; I didn't remember it clearly. What I remembered is being a little ill at ease at Starry's tantrum. He was too old to act like that in public. So any potential I'd had would forever be wasted.
The silence was awkward.
The next days were better, though. I had work, some time with my friends, and Grandpa. Starry got back on the ice, a great relief because his PMS was mostly alleviated as he threw himself into training. With Grandpa's help, I made fudge, truffles, and toffee, which I sprinkled with chocolate chips to melt, and before the chocolate hardened, smoothed it out over the toffee and sprinkled toasted almonds over that before breaking it into pieces when it was cool. I put the treats into boxes I'd gotten at the crafts store and delivered them to my friends. We also made and decorated Christmas cookies; some for home, but mostly for the library. The cookies joined the other treats that people brought. It was good that Christmas was coming soon or I wouldn't be able to fit into my clothes.