Chapter 6: Six A.M.

I asked him that night.

He was on the Zamboni at the Barn, and I was on the phone in my bed with the lights off.

"Chase says you're not allowed in the Bayhill locker room."

"I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because the school's record says I assaulted a teammate."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

The Zamboni growled somewhere behind his voice.

"He also said to bring you to the Ball," I said. "As a dare."

"Are you asking me to your Ball, Finola?"

"I'm telling you he dared me."

"That's not asking."

I put my face in my pillow.

"Saturday," he said. "Six a.m. That's my date. Rule four."

"Six a.m.? On a Saturday?"

"You're up at six every day. Wear your skates."

The Frog Pond on Boston Common opened to the public at ten.

At six it was dark blue and empty, with the State House dome going gold over the trees.

Luc was leaning on the rail by the skate shed with two coffees.

"Cream, two sugars," he said, handing me one. "Your roommate told me."

"How do you have the rink?"

"I know the guy who drives their Zamboni." He shrugged. "Zamboni guys stick together."

"Is that a thing?"

"It's a very small, very proud community."

I laughed and got coffee up my nose.

The ice was perfect. Fresh and wet-black under the lights.

I'd never skated outside with nobody watching.

I did a lap just to feel it. Then another, faster, with my arms out, and the cold made my eyes water.

When I came around, he was standing at center ice in his hockey skates, watching me.

"Teach me something," he said.

"You can't spin in those."

"Teach me anyway."

I showed him a two-foot spin.

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