Chapter 15: A Rink Full of Parents

I did not listen to my mother.

I was at her rink by ten on Saturday morning, in my Canadian team jacket, with my hair still wet from the shower.

The learn-to-skate class was on the ice.

Twenty small kids in rental skates held the boards with both hands, and their parents sat along the bleachers with coffee.

Wyatt's mother stood at the gate in a long cream coat.

Beside her stood his father, with a white envelope in his hand.

My mother stood facing them with her whistle on its cord and her arms at her sides.

"You can read it, Marianne," his father said. "Or I can."

"Read it aloud, then. Everyone paid for this ice."

"It's a board matter."

"It's my club."

Some of the parents had stopped drinking their coffee.

I walked up beside my mother, and she did not look at me.

"I told you not to come," she said.

"I know."

His father turned.

He smiled at me, easy as ever.

"Lena. We were hoping you'd be here."

"I'm sure."

"The letter is only a courtesy. The club's sanction renewal is under review, pending a complaint about conduct."

"Whose conduct?" a father in the second row asked.

"The head coach's daughter's," his father said. "She is accused of hiding a teammate's medical condition from the federation."

"What condition?" the father said.

Wyatt's father said nothing.

I held out my hand.

"May I see it?"

He gave it to me, because with twenty strangers watching he could not do anything else.

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