Chapter 4

A week before Sectionals, the rink closed for the holiday break.

Everyone else was out celebrating. Or cramming in last-minute practice at private facilities.

I was still at the pro shop.

One afternoon, Silas showed up.

He pulled his Porsche right up to the front door, music blasting so loud the windows rattled.

He got out, leaned against the door, and waved me over.

"Maeve, come here."

I didn't look up.

He frowned, walked over. "I'm talking to you."

He reached for my hand, saw the grease, and pulled back.

"Go wash up. You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"Lyla wants to go to the coast. You're coming too."

I straightened up. "I'm not going."

"Throwing a tantrum again?" He clicked his tongue. "I came all the way here to get you. Don't be ungrateful."

"I said no."

"Why?"

"I need to train."

"Train?" He laughed like I'd told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "You could sleepwalk through Sectionals and still medal."

He paused, then added, "Come on. Think of it as a break. Lyla said she wants to make peace with you."

"There's nothing to make peace over."

Silas ran out of patience. "Maeve, I'm asking you one last time. Are you coming or not?"

"No."

He stared at me for a few seconds. Then he smiled.

"Fine. Have it your way."

He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it at my feet.

Bills scattered across the dirty floor.

"That's your paycheck for the month. I already paid your boss. Take it and stay out of my sight."

I looked at the money on the ground. Didn't move.

"Not enough?" He pulled out another wad. "How about now?"

Frank, the shop owner, came out from the back. He saw the scene and rushed over.

"Mr. Kensington, what's going on here? Let's all calm down."

Silas didn't even glance at him. He kept his eyes locked on me.

"Pick it up."

I still didn't move.

Lyla got out of the car.

She hurried to Silas's side, tugging his arm. "Silas, stop. You're scaring her."

She crouched down, picking up the bills one by one.

"Maeve, please don't be mad at Silas. He's just doing this for me."

She held the money out to me, tears shining in her eyes. "Please come with us. I don't want to be the reason you two are fighting."

I looked at her. Then at Silas.

There was no guilt on Silas's face. Not even a flicker.

He thought he was doing me a favor.

He thought he had the right to decide everything for me. Including my dignity.

I stepped around them both and walked into the back room.

Silas's voice followed me, dripping with contempt. "See? That's her problem. Give her an inch and she spits in your face."

Then the roar of the Porsche engine. Tires on gravel. Gone.

Frank came in, sighing. "Kid, don't take it to heart. That's just how he is."

He picked up the bills from the floor and pressed them into my hand. "Keep it. Your situation at home, you need the money."

I held the cash. It still smelled like Lyla's perfume.

I walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and scrubbed my hands over and over.

Until my skin turned raw and red. Then I stopped.

That night, my father showed up again.

He took the money. Smashed up some of the shop equipment.

I called the cops.

They took him away. Again.

On his way out, he jabbed his finger in my face. "You ungrateful little bitch! Calling the cops on your own father! You'll rot in hell!"

I watched the police car disappear down the road.

My heart was perfectly still.

So this is what it feels like. When everyone in your life turns their back on you.