Free Calli Be Gold by Michele Weber Hurwitz Page A

they begin their routine, Grandma Gold hisses loudly, “I think I’ve seen this one before.”
    “You have,” Mom whispers. “The new routine isn’t perfected yet, so they decided to perform the one from last year, but they made a few changes.”
    “All this fuss to see something I’ve already seen?”
    Mom shoots Grandma Gold a look, and she shoots one back. I’m in the middle of a look war. Dad doesn’t notice; he’s just watching Becca.
    The songs for this routine are about surfers and the beach and California girls. It’s supposed to be fun andhappy, but I can see Coach Ruthless on the side, aggravated as usual.
    The girls skate in a long line with their arms around each other, then break apart and form three circles. Then the circles magically blend together and the girls are in two lines. Becca is in the middle of the front line.
    As the girls start to skate forward, one skater’s hairpiece flies off, and Mom groans. “Glue,” she mumbles.
    “Looks like someone let their toy poodle out on the ice.” Grandma Gold gestures to the curly hairpiece.
    “Shhh!” Dad hisses.
    “Everyone else seems to be talking,” Grandma Gold points out. She’s right. People all around me are chatting loudly, and I wonder why they all had to save seats for a show they’re not even watching.
    Becca catches her blade on the ice and stumbles. The girl next to her almost trips and jerks Becca’s arm. Mom gasps, and even Dad breaks his stare for a moment. Mom holds a hand across her heart.
    “She’s fine,” I whisper. “She didn’t fall.”
    Mom nods nervously.
    Becca’s team finishes the routine and takes a bow, and then we have to sit through routines from five other teams. Alex has not moved from his spot against the wall. Finally, it dawns on me why he’s standing there. He’s much closer to the skaters as they go into and out of the dressing rooms. I’m not sure how he can tell what theyreally look like, though, with all that makeup and fake hair.
    After the exhibition ends, there is a mad rush from the stands, but then everyone waits around for the skaters to come out. As each skater appears, her family screams and runs up to her and starts taking pictures. Then the skaters hug each other. Then their families hug them. Then they take more pictures.
    The rink is so crowded I hardly have an inch of space. Mom is talking to the other skating moms, all of them in their Synchronettes jackets. Grandma Gold informs us she is going to the ladies’ room. “Don’t expect me back soon. I’m sure the line’s out the door.”
    “Where is Becca?” Mom asks.
    I spot her, but she’s not making her way toward us. She’s at the far end of the crowd, near a corner of the rink. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Mom. I weave my way through the knots of people. When I’m just a few feet from Becca, I realize she’s crying. Ruthless is standing next to her, looking even more irritated than usual.
    Becca says something; then I hear Ruthless say, “Look, Gold. One more mistake like that and I’m sending in the alternate. We talked about this. We can’t afford errors. Not if we want to beat the Lady Reds this year.” Ruthless starts to march away, then turns back. “And we will.”
    Becca leans against the half wall surrounding the icerink and covers her face with her hands. I don’t think she sees me. Then she takes her hands away, wipes her eyes, and straightens her shoulders. When she reaches for her skating bag, I dash into the crowd, and I’m back with my parents before Becca finds us.
    “There she is!” Dad yells out. “Great job out there. This is going to be your best season yet. I just know it. First place every time.”
    Becca gives him a weak smile.
    “What’s the matter?” he says. “Don’t worry about that little slipup. Happens to even the best skaters! C’mon, how many times have you seen those top girls fall at the Olympics?”
    Becca nods at Dad as he pats her on the back; then Mom snaps a