I’ve never ice skated before, but maybe it’ll be fun.
One of the things I am looking forward to is dance. I started doing a general dance class back in Illinois. Jazz, pop, contemporary, ballet—I’ve done it all. But my mom says I was the best at ballet, and that was my favorite too. So next week, once we start school, I’ll also be starting strictly ballet classes at the only studio in town.
I don’t open my eyes when I hear voices from up the hill. Multiple voices, and one of them is distinctively Roman’s. He has a northerner accent that I didn’t know existed, stretching hisO’s with most of his words.
“Luna! I’m back!” Nora’s voice jumps, her feet pounding down the hill, bouncing her words.
I tilt my head up at this, my hair burrowing in the sand as I watch her run toward me. Her curly hair bounces with her steps, creating a messy wave trailing behind her body. Still up at the house is Roman and his three friends. I’ve seen them only one other time. Otherwise, Roman usually goes to their houses, or they meet up at the park to play.
I roll over and get up, brushing the sand from my dress and patting it from my hair. I’m suddenly embarrassed, and I’m not quite sure why. “Luna!” Nora says, digging her heels into the ground when she reaches me. She’s out of breath, and I see she has something clutched in her hand.
“What is it?” I ask.
“My mom stopped at the store and got me a jump rope. I’ve always wanted one! You want to go try it in the front yard?”
Her hand grips the wooden handles, the rough, pale rope between them heavy and thick. I glance up at the boys who stand by the back door of the house, shaded underneath the wooden deck above them. Roman and a blond friend look over their shoulder at me, quickly turning back around when they notice me staring.
I frown.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I say, walking toward my property line. I don’t want to go anywhere near these boys today. Not if they’re going to whisper about me.
Nora follows behind me, telling me all about how we can walk to school together on the first day of school. Our elementary school is right next to Tip Town, so we’ll have to walk every day. Nora’s mom says there are only a few busses around, and they only go to the edges of town. Because we live in the center, our mornings and afternoons will be spent walking to and from school.
We reach the front yard, walking down the driveway and ending in the street. No one drives down this road besides the locals. I step aside and let Nora jump first. She looks nervous as she grips the handles, but there’s an excitement building in her eyes. The thick rope drags and slaps against the black pavement as she swings it a few times. Then she jumps, her pink, flower-patterned overalls swaying as she hops into the air. She gets over it once, twice, and then trips. Frowning, she tries again, only getting it around her body twice before she fumbles again.
“Let me try,” I say, holding my hands out to take the rope. She hands it to me, stepping aside so I can take my turn. The wooden handles are hot from Nora gripping them, a little damp, too. My green dress is not right for jump roping, but I give it a try anyway. I swing it against the ground a few times before I jump.
And jump.
And jump.
My toes press into the ground, and I hop effortlessly and weightlessly over the rope as it slaps against the pavement. I smile at Nora, and she watches enthralled. “How do you do that? I want to do that!” she whines.
“It’s easy, you just jump!” My black hair swishes against my back, all the way to my waist. I get into a rhythm, a silent beat in my head with the slap of the rope alternated from my toes hitting the ground.
Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise zips past me. All four guys on their bikes whizz by, way too close, soda cans smashed on their back tires, creating a grating buzz as their tires rub against the metal. The gust of wind from their momentum coupled with the loud noise throws me off my feet. The rope wraps around my ankle and I stumble off the road. I fall to my butt, rolling down the small hill and into the corn field. A tall husk wraps around me and encases my body in its tough exterior. It’s suddenly dark, the sun shrouded and keeping me in the shadows.
A hand shoots out, yanking me from the thickness of the corn field and pulling me back into the road.
Roman.
He looks angry and worried.
“Are you okay?” He looks me over, from the top of my black hair to the bottom of my dirty bare toes.
I nod at him.
He turns around, walking to his three friends that stand beside their bikes. He stomps up to the blond, giving him the biggest shove he possibly can. I’ve never seen Roman angry before, but boy is he angry right now.
“What did you do, Lonnie?!” Roman shouts.
Lonnie scowls at Roman. “You wanted to scare them just as much as we did.”
“You went too close to her. She could’ve gotten hurt!”
A dark-haired boy wrinkles up his nose. “Look at her. She’s not hurt. Why are you so angry? Do youlikeher?” he asks, the taunting words coming off his tongue sounding as if I’m a dried-up toad that got hit by a car last week.
Roman glances over at me, his eyes wide in shock. “No! I don’t like her, Flynn. Gross.”