Chapter 9: Twenty-Seven in Five

I showed Joel the text.

He read it once and handed the phone back.

"Do you have the yacht post saved anywhere?"

"No. I dropped my old phone in the river."

"Toni didn't record him yesterday."

"I know."

I deleted the text without answering.

At five the next morning, Joel opened the rink for me.

The windows were black, and the empty floor seemed twice its usual size.

He held a stopwatch while I skated the inside line.

"Twenty laps," he called after I stopped. "You need twenty-seven."

I bent over, hands on my knees.

"At least you're cheerful about it."

"You asked me to count."

"I could have asked a kinder clock."

He handed me a bottle of water.

I did another set after my breath steadied.

On the turn, my wheels slipped apart.

Joel skated onto the floor in old practice skates and caught me by the elbow.

"Cross the outside foot over. Don't reach for the line."

"You said you don't skate."

"I said I don't skate in front of a crowd."

He demonstrated the turn, knees bent and shoulders steady.

His size made the movement look impossible until he did it again.

I tried and slammed into the rail.

"That wasn't it," he said.

"A useful observation."

"Try following me."

I followed him around the curve six times.

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