Jax

  Heading back home I’m feeling quite satisfied. I was able to perform in front of the audience, and it seemed at least more authentic than when I’m on the ice according to my coach. The class was also quite entertaining, watching the students act out a word, and their performances were each unique and appeared to show off their individual personalities.

  Walking down the sidewalk I slip my headphones in place, listening to an upbeat kpop song, singing along to it. My voice echoes through the brisk air. Thoughts run through my mind, what I could’ve done better, how the other students performed, and even every interaction with Milli. Gosh that girl lives rent-free in my head. I can’t go a single day without thinking about her. When I’m skating on the private ice rink I can’t help but wonder if it’s similar to hers in the best way. Taking the components of authenticity, smoothness and gracefulness, while still having my practiced perfection. Ice skating is a skill, it takes focus, balance, discipline, control. Figure skating is a very demanding occupation.

  I return to the mansion, sliding my headphones down around my neck, walking towards the ice rink, pushing open the double doors, peeling off my hoodie and headphones, followed by removing my shoes and sliding my ice skates on, tying them neatly.

  Starting with my warm ups, gliding along the ice slowly, back and forth, stretching my limbs and hamstrings. I start to pick up speed, doing laps around the rink, getting more and more precise with my movements. Falling into the motions, while my mind is elsewhere, still thinking about the day at the drama class. I stayed a bit longer to teach the next class as well, with the same word, the same motions I did for the first, the word yearning. Because there’s passions I crave, which I wish were attainable, but they’re snatched away from me. My parents didn’t give me the luxury of choice. In exchange for wealth the sacrifice was to be forced into a career I never wanted. I didn’t even get the option to protest. I’ve been skating ever since I could walk.

  I’m so wrapped up in my mind I don’t even realize someone is skating by me until she clears her throat. “Jax. You’re a little off.” Turning my head to look, I notice one of the maids, with dark brown curls of hair, and brown eyes. I rack my brain for a moment before remembering her name. May. Quite possibly my favorite maid. She’s sweet, around my age so she knows the struggles of being a teenager, and she graduated early from high school so she could be here. She was given the offer a couple months into junior year and the job came with living quarters, nourishment, hydration, and free time after she finishes her personal tasks and cleaning. May is probably my only friend. My closest friend as well, I’ve known her since I was ten. Back when occasionally I would visit the elementary school because my parents decided I needed some human interaction, and to keep my behavior in check, since it would teach responsibility and obedience. Mother and Father never really had much time for me, once I was old enough to do my training myself without being told. May was always welcoming and loved seeing me around when I would show up, we would hang out together and she’d teach me many different things. She’s also the one who introduced me to different types of music. Since the only music allowed at home was classical music. Supposedly would improve my development or whatever.

  I tilt my head, looking at her. “What do you mean? I’m not off or whatever.” My voice is quite warm, something that tends to happen around May, I almost never can keep up a cold tone around her.

  “Mhm. Sure you are, Jax. You’re not just skating absentmindedly in circles for the past five minutes.” She responds with a skeptical look and small smile.

  Glancing down and around me I realize that the statement was accurate and I have actually been skating in circles for the past few minutes, my cheeks puffing out in annoyance. “No…” I say weakly, knowing that protesting is a losing battle.

  “Come on, what’s on your mind, Jax?” She asks with a hint of worry in her tone.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry, I’ve just been thinking…” I say quickly, so May won’t have to worry about me. “I just have been a little…tired, lately. Skating is exhausting work, you know. And I have a competition in two days. In Minnesota." I shrug.

  She puts a hand on my shoulder, “Maybe you should take it easy until then. Remember if you ever wanna hang out,”

  “My room at midnight, that’d be nice.” I respond before adding, “Now, let’s skate.”

  I glide along the rink at a slower pace, to make sure May can keep up. She’s decent at skating, nowhere near my level though, and also not as good as Milli, but better than anyone else in this mansion besides my parents. Who never even watch me in person by the way.

  Within fifteen minutes, we’re both laughing and enjoying ourselves. It almost feels like old times, when it’s just us two having fun, no expectations, just enjoying each other's company. We’re not even doing much on the ice at this point, just gliding around softly and singing to different upbeat songs, when my favorite song comes on I skate to an unoccupied area, and do my choreography I came up with for it, all myself, while on the ice, and let me tell you, it is smooth.

  May stops and stares at me, and she applauds once I finish, at that moment I realize that she’s never seen my personal choreography I’ve made for songs before. I give a bow, and glide over. “How was it?” I ask softly.

  “Amazing, you’ve got that down so well!” She grins.

  I check my phone, “Dinnertime. Guess I’ll see you another time, May. Thanks for your time. I appreciate it.” I say with a smile.

  She nods and follows me as I step off of the ice, taking off my skates to put my shoes back on. “I better get to cleaning.” She responds, before slipping out the door and out of sight.

  Walking back to the high school was boring. The air was chilly, and I refused to wear a coat, so my temperature is lower than I’d prefer, but I’m used to freezing temperatures. Comes with being an ice skater, it has to be below freezing in the rink.

  I step into the building and walk towards the theatre room. Waiting for the students to arrive, I discuss with Mrs. Petersen about a few matters, mostly just asking if I’m welcome anytime, to which she responds, “Of course, you’re always welcome. When it comes to drama, anyone who’s willing to put forth the effort, and respects the craft is welcomed with open arms to act.”

  My eyes scan over her desk, with different papers and scripts, I pick one up and mutter the title under my breath “Embers and Frost.”

  Mrs. Petersen looks at me, “Yeah, that’s one of the newer scripts. Just a short single scene, though it would require the right kind of chemistry between the right three actors.”

  Scanning through the script it does look intriguing, what captures my attention is the setting and the characters. Setting: An ancient hall in the royal castle, long abandoned except for the flicker of a dying fire in the hearth. Snow drifts in through a shattered window. Three figures stand in the half-light: Kael, the prince, guarded and calm as marble; Maris, half-shadow, half-spark; and Selene, radiant and restless like the flame itself.

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  I read under my breath the prince’s lines, before speaking up, “This scene looks interesting. I wouldn’t mind playing as Kael.”

  Just then students start to flood into the room, the bell’s ring echoes through the halls. Mrs. Petersen glances at Milli, then the blonde girl, the same one who performed the word wistful last time. She looks very familiar. “Abigail?” I whisper under my breath as she passes by me, she turns slowly, and looks dead at me. Which only confirms my assumptions. It is her. She was the other skating partner my parents tried to pair me with two years ago, but she just walked out without saying a word.

  Mrs. Petersen gives me a knowing look. “Abby, Milli, can you come over here please?” She calls out, and they both look confused but walk over. “I have a proposition for you two.” She adds.

  Milli raises an eyebrow, “What kind of proposition?”

  “It involves a scene in the school performance in January." Mrs. Petersen responds.

  Abigail tilts her head slightly, “I’m intrigued.”

  Mrs. Petersen explains the idea, and gives the both of them each the ‘Ember and Frost’ scripts, for them to look it over.

  Milli says, “I can be Maris.”

  Abigail nods, “I’ll be Selene.”

  Mrs. Peterson smiles and adds, “And Jax will be Kael.”

  I return a little shrug holding up my script of Ember and Frost. “Guess that means I’ll be referred to as royalty now.”

  Milli scoffs, “Mhm, sure Prince Frost.”

  I glare at her while bowing. “Whatever you say, Maris.”

  Abby, Milli, and I went into the hall to read over the script together and to practice getting into character, while the rest of the class was busy picking out their scenes and characters for the upcoming school performance in a couple months.

  My alarm went off early. Today I’m going to Minnesota for a competition. Not something I’m looking forward to. There’s been a lot of stress on my form lately. My parents for once actually were watching me in the ice rink, though I wish they weren’t pointing out every single little mistake.

  “You must be prepared with perfectionism.” Father said sternly, as he pointed out my flawed triple axel, I was a beat behind on the rotations.

  “I’m working on it.” I hiss, executing a triple axel again, now perfect.

  My chest is heaving by the time I sit down on a bench, untying my skates and stuffing them into a bag, followed by my black hoodie, headphones, my phone, and some black shorts. I wear my black and icy blue skating outfit, with an unzipped skating jacket.

  Father steps up behind me, his voice low. “Packed for the trip?” He asks.

  “Yes sir.” I respond, standing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. “As ready as I can be.” I roll my eyes.

  The drive to the competition was silent. I wear my headphones, listening to music from my phone without any interruptions.

  I stepped into the arena, the cold hitting me the second I left the concourse. My breath fogged in front of my face, and the scent of polished ice mixed with the faint tang of metal and sweat filled my nostrils. Everyone else was bundled in coats and scarves, chattering and shuffling, but I barely noticed. The crowd, the noise, the lights–none of it mattered. My performance for the ice was all that mattered.

  I tugged the zipper of my black skating jacket a little tighter, feeling the smooth fabric cling to my slender frame. The way I moved–fluid, precise–made people take notice whether I wanted them to or not. My short, light-brown hair was damp from my warm-up, my sharp blue eyes scanning the arena. My parents were in the front row, sitting stiffly, smiles polite but watchful. Their presence pressed against me like a weight I’ve carried since I could remember.

  I stepped onto the warm-up rink, boots slicing the ice with a familiar scratch. I ran through my jumps–double axels, spins, combinations–and then the apex: the triple axel. Every muscle, every nerve, screamed with the memory of months, years of practice. A rival skater smirked from across the rink, but I didn’t give him more than a glance. No one mattered here. Not today.

  The announcer called my name, and I felt the familiar tightening in my chest. My pulse kicked up, but my mind was clear.

  “Next up, representing…Jax Everhart.” I tune out most of the statement. Only focusing on the fact I’m up next.

  I stepped onto the ice, jacket slipping from my shoulders, revealing my black-and-icy-blue costume that shimmered under the arena lights. I could feel the entire stadium on me–the murmurs of the crowd, the cameras, the judges’ eyes–but I shut it all out. I didn’t skate for them. I skated for my parents' reputation.

  I pushed off, blades slicing through the ice like knives. Arms out, posture perfect, every line measured. The first jump felt good, my landing solid. My spins were tight, deliberate, the kind that demanded attention without effort. The ice beneath me was an extension of my body, responding instantly to every shift in weight, every flex of muscle.

  And then it came–the triple axel. My stomach knotted, chest tightening, but I crouched, coiled, and launched myself into the air. For a heartbeat, the world spun around me. Time slowed. I felt the rotation, the wind whipping past, the apex of my jump suspended between success and failure. Then–landed. Knees bent, absorbing the force. No wobble. Just clean, precise control. My heart pounded, but I didn’t falter.

  I moved into my sequence of spins and footwork, each turn sharper, faster, more precise. I could feel the energy of the crowd building around me, but I was untouchable, cold, commanding. My blue eyes focused straight ahead, a mask of concentration and respectability firmly in place. When I struck the final pose, chest lifted, chin high, I let myself feel it: the moment of complete control, complete dominance over the ice.

  Applause washed over me like water, but I barely noticed. The scoreboard blinked, digits spinning, counting my fate one number at a time. When the final score settled, a surge of relief and triumph hit me. Enough. More than enough. I allowed a small, triumphant laugh to escape–quiet, private, almost smug.

  The rest of the competition blurred past me. Other skaters came and went–flashes of color and motion–but none of it mattered. I stayed in my own bubble, analyzing their technique in passing, noting what was clean, what would fall short. I didn’t gloat, I didn’t cheer. I just waited.

  Finally it was over. The judges tallied their scores, whispers and clattering pens filling the otherwise silent arena. I tightened the straps on my boots absentmindedly, heart still thudding from my own performance. Every number in my head added up the same way: clean jumps, flawless spins, the triple axel untouched. It should be enough.

  The announcer’s voice cut through the tension, crisp and deliberate. “Ladies and gentlemen...the results of today’s competition…”

  I clenched my fists at my sides, posture perfect. My parents leaned forward in the front row, faces taunt with anticipation. I could feel their judgement before I even saw it in their eyes. But this wasn’t about them. Not now.

  “Third place goes to…Samantha Lee!”

  A polite round of applause follows. I barely registered her name.

  “Second place…Alex Rinaldi!”

  The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, and I allowed myself a brief glance toward Alex. He had skated well–fast, flashy–but the judges had favored control, precision, dominance. Traits I had honed for years, drilled into muscle and mind.

  “And first place…Jax Everhart!”

  The arena erupted. I heard cheers, felt the vibrations through the ice, but it all felt muted, almost distant. My pulse was steady, heart still and focused. I skated forward to the podium, every step deliberate, arms relaxed but commanding. My jacket was draped over one shoulder, costume gleaming under the arena lights.

  As they draped the gold medal around my neck, I felt the cold metal against my chest. It was weighty, tangible proof that all those years, all the drills, all the pressure–had meant something, even now. The crowd’s applause washed over me like water, but I stayed composed, upright, eyes scanning the arena.

  My parents were clapping slowly, nodding their heads of approval, but nothing more from them. Wouldn’t even surprise me. I expected very little of them.

  I raised my chin and looked out across the arena, feeling the cold environment. I let the noise of the crowd fill me, but only as background. My mind was running through thoughts of my previous potential skating partners. Especially Milli. Then flashes of the script I should study, ‘Ember and Frost’.