The first thing I do when I get on the ice is ask. I’m not supposed to know what kind of piece I’m getting yet so my figure skating coach leans in, voice lowered. A duet, not the solo I’d hoped for, that I was convinced I’d get, riding the high of an excellent tryout all weekend. “My partner?” I croak. One of my best friends. I should be smiling. “Just give me a minute,” I say, already moving away, blinking because my tears can’t spill out here. “I’ll be back.” I didn’t, I couldn't go back. Not that day.
Tiffany Kung is a high school student and wannabe writer, among other titles.