Chapter 9: Proofread

I told myself I was going to say no until 11:40.

At 11:41 I put on my warmest coat and climbed out the kitchen window, because my mother was home asleep and the stairs creaked.

The rink was six blocks away.

I walked it fast, with my hands in my sleeves and my breath coming out in white clouds.

The door by the Zamboni was not locked.

Inside, the building was almost black.

One bank of overhead lights was on above the center circle, and the ice below it looked like a pool of milk.

Someone was skating on it, slowly, in long lazy loops.

He wore a gray sweatshirt and no helmet.

He didn't hear me come in, and for a while I only watched.

I had never seen him skate alone.

He moved like the ice belonged to him, and he looked younger, and quieter.

Then he turned and saw me, and he stopped so hard that a spray of ice shot off his blades.

"Hi, Gazette," said Rhett.

My heart fell through the floor.

"I think you have the wrong person," I said.

"I don't."

"I came to see who you've been talking to."

"Yeah." He skated toward the boards, slow. "You did."

I held onto the gate to keep from running.

"How long?" I whispered.

"Since Saturday."

"Saturday morning."

"About nine."

"But you said you were going to find her. You said it in the hallway."

"I wanted to see your face when I said it." His mouth twitched. "It was a really good face."

"You are the worst person I have ever met."

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