Chapter 6: Parking Lot

I drove two blocks and pulled into the empty lot behind the dry cleaner, because my hands wouldn't hold the wheel.

I cut the engine.

The streetlight outside the windshield buzzed.

Henrik sat in the passenger seat with his boot jammed against the dashboard.

His crutches lay across the back seat, and for a long time neither of us spoke.

"You don't have to tell me what he said," I said finally.

"I heard what he said."

"You were across the room."

"I had good ears for two years of listening to you count in your head." He stopped. His jaw clenched.

I turned in my seat.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"You said you were thorough. That's what you said. Sixty-one times."

"Hanna."

"Is that why you picked me? Is that why I'm your assistant, and not expelled?"

My voice cracked and I let it.

"You watched me skate for two years, you hate me, and you can't stand that you know my program by heart."

I breathed. "So you're going to make me carry your bag for eight weeks."

"I don't hate you."

"You've said it to my face for years."

"I said it for the team." His voice rose.

"If the team thinks I like you, they'll go after you the way Trent did tonight."

I stared at him.

"That's a terrible plan."

"It's the one I had."

"You told Prescott you wanted me as a punishment."

"It was the only way you got to stay."

"And all the shouting? The notes, the stairs, the shower?"

He turned his face to the window. The scar on his chin caught the light.

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