Chapter 7

The heavy bass of the pop music vibrated through the wooden floorboards of the neon roller rink.

Multi-colored strobe lights swept across the dark room, painting the faces of the teenagers in flashes of pink, green, and blue. The air smelled of cheap pizza and floor wax.

Alma sat on a padded bench in the staging area. She pulled the laces of her rented brown leather roller skates tight and tied them in a double knot.

Caden stood up next to her. He rolled smoothly on his skates, looking completely at ease.

Bridgett stood on the other side of the bench. She wore tight denim jeans and a cropped white sweater. She was gripping the metal railing with both hands. Her knees wobbled. She kept stealing nervous glances at Caden's profile.

Caden held his hand out to Alma.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes focused entirely on her.

Alma smiled. She took his hand and stood up. The wheels of her skates hit the smooth wooden floor.

She took one step forward.

Suddenly, she twisted her right foot sharply inward. She let her knee buckle.

"Ah!" Alma cried out.

She collapsed back onto the padded bench. She grabbed her right ankle with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut in a mask of intense pain.

Caden dropped to one knee instantly. The wheels of his skates spun against the floor.

"Alma! What happened?" he asked, his voice panicked. His hands hovered over her ankle.

"My ankle," Alma gasped, forcing her breathing to turn shallow. "I twisted it on the stairs last month. I think I just aggravated the old injury."

She winced, biting her lower lip hard.

"Take the skates off," Caden ordered. "I'm driving you home right now."

"No!" Alma said quickly. She reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Please, Caden. Don't ruin the night. I just need to sit down for a bit. I'll get a soda and put some ice on it."

She looked up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

"I don't want to ruin Bridgett's night," Alma said. She shifted her gaze to Bridgett, who was still clinging to the railing.

Alma gently pushed Caden's arm.

"Go skate with her," Alma whispered, her voice soft and encouraging. "She's been looking forward to this all week. Please? For me?"

Caden frowned. He looked at Bridgett, then back at Alma. He hated the idea of leaving her side.

But Alma's pleading eyes were impossible for his ego to refuse. He wanted to be the good guy.

"Fine," Caden sighed. "But if it hurts worse, we leave."

Alma nodded gratefully. She unlaced her skates and slipped her sneakers back on. She limped heavily toward the concession stand.

She bought a large cola packed with ice. She walked over to a dark booth at the edge of the rink and slid into the vinyl seat.

She took a sip of the cold soda. The ice chilled her throat.

She stopped limping. She sat perfectly still. Her eyes locked onto the rink like a sniper looking through a scope.

Out on the floor, Bridgett was struggling. She moved stiffly, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance.

Caden skated a few feet away from her. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked bored and annoyed. He wasn't helping her at all.

Alma pulled her cell phone from her pocket. The screen illuminated her face in the dark booth.

She opened her messages and typed a text to Caden.

She looks terrified out there. Go hold her hand so she doesn't fall. My knight in shining armor.

She hit send.

Across the rink, Caden felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out.

Alma watched his face under the flashing strobe lights. She saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk when he read the text.

He put the phone away. He skated smoothly over to Bridgett.

He reached out and offered her his hand.

Bridgett froze. Her face turned a bright, violent shade of red. She looked at his hand like it was a winning lottery ticket. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she placed her hand in his.

Caden closed his fingers around hers. He pulled her slightly closer, guiding her movements to match his rhythm.

The physical distance between them vanished.

Bridgett looked up at his face. Her eyes were wide, completely lost in the fantasy of his touch.

Alma took another slow sip of her soda. The condensation from the plastic cup dripped onto her fingers.

Holding hands was a good start. But it wasn't enough to break the loyalty of a roommate. She needed a catalyst. She needed a physical shock.

Alma scanned the crowded rink.

Her eyes locked onto a group of four teenage boys. They were skating backward at high speed, weaving recklessly through the slower skaters. They were laughing loudly, completely ignoring the rules.

Alma tracked their trajectory. She looked at Caden and Bridgett's position near the center of the floor.

She calculated the speed and the angle.

The reckless boys were ten yards away. Five yards.

Alma stood up from the booth. She took a deep breath.

"Caden!" Alma screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her voice pierced through the heavy bass of the music.

Caden's head snapped toward the sound. His body twisted instinctively toward the booths.

He stopped paying attention to the rink.

A split second later, the lead boy skating backward slammed directly into Bridgett's shoulder.

The impact was violent.

Bridgett let out a sharp, terrified shriek. Her skates flew out from under her. She pitched forward, falling face-first toward the hard wooden floor.

Alma stood perfectly still in the shadows. She didn't blink. She waited for gravity to do its job.