Free Breaking the Ice by Gail Nall

glance at the TV across from our booth. It’s showing another couple in a studio lined with mirrors, where the guy is teaching the girl some dance steps.
    Maybe talking to Ellery wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.
    â€œHey, Mom,” I say. “I have an idea that I think will help with my new program.”

    At practice the next day, I go through the program over and over and over. Learning the order of everything in a program is pretty easy. Actually doing it all—and doing it well—is the hard part. At the very end of the last afternoon session, I finally land all the jumps and push through the spins. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all. In fact, maybe Greg will be so impressed when he sees it, he’ll let me work on the triple salchow. Then at least something I told Ellery will be true.
    Well, that and the dance lessons. Mom was so excited about the idea of me learning to dance for real in order to help my skating that she talked to Greg about it this morning. He agreed, so Mom called up a dance studio and signed me up for a class that starts tonight.
    â€œWhere are you off to?” Braedon asks as I follow Mom to the parking lot.
    â€œI’m doing ballroom dancing. For my new program,” I say.
    â€œLike this?” He drops his skate bag and grabs my hands.Before I can say anything, he’s pulling me around in circles between parked cars.
    â€œKind of!” I’m laughing so hard, I can barely even breathe.
    â€œDah dah dah dah!” Braedon sings some made-up tune as he swings my arms back and forth.
    â€œKaitlin?” Mom’s standing by the van, keys in hand. “We have to go. The studio is on the other side of town.”
    Braedon drops my hands and bows. Then he waves to Mom, scoops up his skate bag, and runs toward a white car waiting near the rink door.
    A little out of breath, I climb into the passenger seat of Mom’s car.
    And it hits me that I was just holding hands with Braedon. I feel warm all over thinking about it.
    â€œWho was that?” Mom asks as she starts the car.
    â€œBraedon,” I answer.
    I can tell she wants to ask more questions, but she doesn’t. And I’m glad, because I’m not sure if I’d know the answers.

Chapter Twelve

    The dance studio is really just a storefront in a strip mall. It doesn’t look like much, but I’m sure Mom read every review that exists on the Internet before choosing this place. So I’m betting it’s more than just pretty good.
    I stand behind a clump of women who are Mom’s age, while Mom takes a spot in one of the chairs that line the far side of the room. There’s only one other person in the chairs, so of course Mom sits right next to her and immediately starts talking. I’m the youngest one here, which feels a little weird. There are a couple of older teenagers, a girl who’s standing right up front and talking to the instructor, and a boy in abaseball cap who looks like he’d rather be playing dolls with his little sister than be stuck here.
    â€œCan I have everyone’s attention, please?” The instructor raises her voice, and everyone quiets down. “This is the beginners’ tango class. I’m Jill, and this is my studio. My partner Fernando will be helping us out tonight.” She points to a tall, lean, dark-haired man propped against the mirrored wall.
    â€œI am Fernando,” he says with a Spanish accent, like Jill hadn’t already told everyone his name. The women in front of me giggle, and Fernando shoots them a smile.
    I turn back to Mom. She makes a walking motion with her fingers at me. I shake my head. No way am I moving up front. I’d rather learn to tango without anyone watching me. Besides, the women in front of me might get mad if I block their view of Fernando.
    Jill raps her knuckles on the wall, and everyone looks back at her. “We will start with—”
    The studio door