Girls Only! (2 page)

Livvy fought back tears and the throbbing lump in her throat. She wanted him to say he could never leave without her, that he didn’t want to move anywhere without his baby girl. Or . . . no, she wanted him to say he wasn’t really going to move. Let her grow up in Riverdale, let her finish middle school and later high school. All because of her skating goals.
That’s
what she wanted him to say.

“We belong here,” she managed to squeak out. “You know it, and so do I.”

He stared at the ceiling, his feet restless on the floor. “A change would do us both good” came the hollow-sounding reply.

“A change? Isn’t losing Mom enough of a change for one summer?” Livvy was immediately filled with regret. Her dad was obviously hurting, and she knew it by the
dismal look on his ashen face. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“No . . . no. Maybe you’re right.” He was studying her now. “It’s just that, well, this house . . . this . . .” He was faltering, reaching for the paper again.

“I know, Dad. I know.” She looked around the room at her mother’s porcelain angel collection with Bible verses inscribed on each one. At the accent candles in different shapes and sizes: hearts, stars, cubes, and tapers. Everything reminded her of what they’d lost. Everything, right down to the way the drapes were pulled over with a fashionable gold clip.

Later, in her room, Livvy stood with her face next to her cockatiel’s cage. Coco blinked his tiny eyes. “Hi, cutie-bird,” she whispered, staring at his adorable white body and bright yellow head.

“Coco . . . cutie-bird” came the low-pitched voice.

“You’re one crazy parrot.” She puckered her lips to send kisses.

Coco didn’t send any back. Not this time. He was playing hard to get.

“Okay, have it your way.” She turned her back on purpose.

“Way . . . way crazy!” Coco repeated the words ten or more times without stopping.

Finally Livvy faced him again and shushed him. “Better be quiet now. Dad’s in a lousy mood.” She waved her pointer finger close to the cage. “And so am I.”

“Ha . . . ha . . . ha . . . quiet!” was the annoying reply.

“Okay for you. If you won’t behave, I’ll just have to ignore you. Or cover up your cage for the rest of the day.” It was a threat, nothing more. But she turned and shuffled across the room.

Gazing out the window, her thoughts flew to her dad. “He’s not thinking clearly,” she murmured, watching a flock of birds wing their way from tree to tree. “He’s lost without Mom. . . .”

Nearly a year ago, right after she and her mother had become Christians, Livvy began to worry about her dad’s disinterest in God and church. He seemed so puzzled about everything. Like he was searching his heart for answers to what had happened to his cozy, unbelieving family.

She understood his present sadness and loss, but this unexpected talk of moving to Colorado . . . What was
that
about?

When Coco didn’t chatter back one of his favorite words, Livvy was surprised. Thankful, though. She needed some space, some time to think. Should she go with her dad? Or stay and seriously pursue her skating goals?

Livvy sighed and sat at her desk, leaning on her elbows. A small picture of her mother smiled back at her. “What should I do, Mom?” she asked the photo.

Asking the Lord would’ve made more sense, she knew. But these days it was too painful to pray. Why
had
God taken her mother at such a young age?

Pulling open the narrow drawer in the center of her desk, she found her stationery. Her Colorado pen pal—Jenna Song—was always a super sounding board. And Jenna was an avid letter writer. Same as Livvy. The girls might’ve been email addicts, but neither of them had access to a computer. Livvy’s dad’s state-of-the-art computer and printer were always in use.

Twirling a ballpoint pen between her fingers, Livvy eyed the bulletin board above her desk. There, centered among pictures of Tara Lipinski and Michelle Kwan, skating souvenirs, and ticket stubs, was Jenna. Beautifully Korean, with flawless olive skin, deep brown eyes, and dark hair down to her waist. Jenna prided herself in being “absolutely American.” That’s how she’d introduced herself in the first letter three months ago.

Jenna was also a minister’s daughter, but she didn’t flaunt it like some kids might. She
did
talk about God in her letters sometimes. Once, when Livvy had confided in her about her mother’s cancer, Jenna had written back, promising to pray.

Remembering this, Livvy decided to go ahead and
share her gloomy news. Coco twittered in the cage behind her, and Livvy took a deep breath and began to write.

She folded her letter, then undressed for bed. After draping Coco’s cage for the night, Livvy set her clock radio for 5:00
A.M.

She slipped into bed and reached to turn out the light on the lamp table. “Night-night, Coco,” she whispered.

The parrot replied, “Night-night.”

Livvy was thrilled to own a peculiar pet like Coco. Crazy and talkative as he was, she adored him. It had been her mother’s idea to buy the exotic pet in the first place. Now Coco was one more link to her perfect past.

The room was too hot for bedcovers, so Livvy lay there in her shortie pajamas, enjoying the breeze from the window. Part of the moon shone through the curtains, casting a white light on the ice skater figurine on her bookcase. The statuette was last year’s birthday gift. By far the best present ever. Livvy was sure she knew which of her parents had purchased it.

“How can I skate . . . or live . . . without you, Mom?” she whispered into the stillness. “I miss you something awful.”

Dreams on Ice

Chapter Three

The flap of a screen door startled her awake. Livvy sat up in bed and squinted at the clock.

4:32
A.M.

She crawled out of bed and stumbled to the window. Below her, on the back porch step, sat her father.

What’s he doing up?
she wondered.

This was so unlike him. Especially because he often stayed up past midnight working on new illustrations and trying out new color combinations. The creative side of his brain switched on at night like a light bulb.

On several occasions Livvy had wandered into his studio late, only to find him boring a hole in a canvas with his eyes, a brush poised in midair . . . usually talking to himself or to the painted subject.

She stared at him through the window, her thoughts
soaring. Slowly, she began to get her hopes up. Way up. Maybe, just maybe, Dad was planning to surprise her—take her to skating for once!

Too excited to sleep again, she took a shower and dressed for practice.
Wait’ll I write Jenna about this
, she thought, wishing she hadn’t already sealed the envelope.

Finding it, she toyed with the notion of including a big, fat P.S. on the back. But no, she wouldn’t want anyone to read her comment. Least of all Dad.

She would wait and send another note. After practice would be a good time. She’d tell Jenna all about her dad’s first visit to the rink, watching her practice her jumps and spins. He would observe her stamina training . . . her technique study. Everything! This was too good to be true!

Livvy brushed her auburn hair back into a quick ponytail. She studied her full bangs in the mirror, wondering if she should let them grow out so she could wear her hair pulled back, like Michelle Kwan. Or trim them and make them fluffier, like Tara Lipinski.

She set her hairbrush back on the dresser, unable to decide about a new look. Standing in front of the mirror, her eyes fell on another framed picture of her mother. Her all-time favorite.

Holding the familiar image up to her face, she compared the picture to herself. “Mom and I actually looked like sisters . . . almost.” Having made this discovery, her tears threatened to spill over.

Quickly, she placed the picture back on the dresser. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Too much thinking made her super hungry, but before she opened the cereal box, she peered out the back door.

Dad was nowhere to be seen.

Her heart sank as she poured milk over the cereal. Livvy knew as sure as she was Olivia Kay Hudson that her dad had probably gone back to bed. He wouldn’t be available to take her to the rink. Not today.

Probably not ever.

She would have to catch a ride with a skating friend. Once again, she was on her own.

After lunch, Livvy dashed to her bedroom and tore open her letter to Jenna. She sat at her desk and wrote the longest P.S. ever.

She began by explaining how miserable she felt. How totally disappointed . . .

Livvy found another envelope in her skinny desk drawer and rewrote the address. Without mangling the self-adhesive stamp, she removed it from the old envelope. She secured it to the new envelope with a thump of her fist.

Before mailing her letter, she took time to clean the bottom of Coco’s cage. She also gave her parrot some fresh water and more food. “Say ‘thank you, Livvy,’ ” she prompted him.

“Coco, cutie-bird.” He turned his neck to preen his feathers.

“No, say ‘thank you,’ ” she repeated.

“Cutie Livvy” came the unexpected reply.

She couldn’t help but smile. “You’re just too much, you know?”

“Too much . . . too much.”

“I’m leaving now. Bye!” She closed her bedroom door, but Coco kept chitter-chattering.

Letter in hand, Livvy hurried down the hall to her
dad’s studio. She stopped to peek inside, expecting to see him consumed in the latest art project.

Instead, she found him draped over the sketching table, snoozing. Soft music, featuring flowing water and chirping birds mingled with guitar melodies, played in the background. The music and the wilderness sounds were relaxing. No wonder he was sound asleep in the middle of the afternoon.

Tiptoeing inside, Livvy went to stand near his chair. She looked down on her grieving father and noticed dark circles under his eyes. And his face seemed horribly pale.

Oh, Daddy, I love you, she thought and felt her heart breaking all over again. Whatever happens to my skating dreams, even if I have to give it all up, I can’t let you go to Colorado. Not without me!

Dreams on Ice

Chapter Four

It was a cloudy Saturday. Just two more days before doors opened at Alpine Lake Middle School. The
only
middle school in town.

Big whoop
.

Ordinarily, Livvy would be practicing her routines on a day like this. Back in first-class Chicago! But she busied herself with cleaning and organizing her new room, trying to shove away thoughts of future competitions. Of skating buddies and the best coach in the world.

Her dreams had been put on hold. She’d even missed out on the Summer Ice Revue—something she’d worked for all year. But worst of all, she’d had to leave Elena behind. No coach . . . no skating career. Yet she couldn’t
blame anyone but herself for landing here in Podunk. A place precisely in the middle of nowhere!

The realtor had shown them only three houses. All of them run-down Victorians. One far worse than the others.

Amazingly, her dad had purchased the most hopeless of the bunch. He said he was going to “remodel the seventies away” and recapture the heart of the house.

Whatever that means
, Livvy had thought at the time.

So here she was rattling around in an old fixer-upper, awaking each morning to pounding and sawing. “Dad’s taking his misery out on this poor old house,” Livvy informed her parrot.

“Poor house” came the answer.

“Right, the
poorhouse
is exactly where we’re gonna end up.”

“End up . . . end up.”

Livvy laughed and blew kisses to Coco. “Try to behave yourself today. Is that possible? Because I’m going school shopping.”

“Missing Liv . . . missing Liv . . .”

She shook her head, wondering how Coco had gotten so smart. She’d worked with him repeatedly their first years together. As a result, he could carry on like a chicken, sneeze like a human, and repeat most any phrase she’d ever taught him. But sometimes he actually
seemed to think for himself. Uncanny. Never a dull moment with Coco.