THE JOSHUA WEINZWEIG REVIEW OF WRITING 2020-2021
SCARS OF THE ICE ____________________________________________________________ by Sophia Jeffrey, Grade 10 “Are you ready?” She steadies her breath, trying to calm her thoughts. They hang over her like a small child’s mobile. Always there, just out of reach. Her heart pounds, her brain feels like it might explode. She looks out into the sea of empty faces: children crying, deep conversations, arguments, others on their phones. Every emotion possible fills the air. Playing with the hem of her skirt, she takes a deep breath. She feels the cold air enter her lungs, like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. She looks back at her coach. “Yeah…” she hesitates. She puts on her best smile, but her coach looks skeptical. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great,” her coach assures her. She thanks her coach silently and looks back at the ice. It’s sitting there, urging her to come over and skate. The ice is beautiful and bright, each mark tells a story. She hears the scrapes of past skaters, blades gliding gracefully. She sees the jumps, spins, and… the falls. Her fear comes back. Like a wave, drowning her in its salty, blue water. “And now, let’s welcome 17-year-old Mabelle Sanders!” the commentator roars. The applause booms in her ears. She steps off the rubber mats onto the hard ice in front of her. She pushes her thoughts to the back of her consciousness, closing the genie back into the bottle, supressing them for now. She warms up and makes her way to the middle. The twinkly, light piano and sweet, long violin start. She glides across the ice, turning left and right. Her arms move up and down in perfect time with the gentle melody playing in the background. Her costume sparkles like a thousand diamonds in the light. She can see everyone in the audience has their eyes on her. Unknown faces, watching. Waiting for something to happen. Something interesting—no matter if it’s good or bad, just something they can go and talk about with friends. Laughing, applauding, scrutinizing. “Opening up with the triple Lutz…” the commentator begins. She jumps up and lands perfectly, the sounds scraping on the ice. Again, she jumps and lands nicely. “…And the triple toe. Nicely executed.” She skates away and starts to spin as the audience applauds her. “Now a camel spin, good speed,” the commentator remarks. She spins gracefully; they would look clean to any audience member out there. She can’t see any of them now though, they all blur. She prefers this. No worried faces, no happy faces, no faces at all. Only the thing that has been her entire life for as long as she can remember. Beautiful and relaxing yet nerve-racking. Almost menacing. Spinning around. She’s building up speed for the next jump when something in the audience catches her eye. She feels a strong jab in her chest and starts to tear up. Don’t look, don’t think, don’t look, don’t think. She looks away and continues. She begins her jump, and feels a sharp, agonizing pain throughout her body. Crack.
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