The Promise

CHAPTER THREE

Tiny Victories

A week later I still walked like a penguin.

"Good morning, Princess."

I looked up from the breakfast table. "Morning..."

Grandpa paused.

"Why do you so sound serious?" I sighed.

"I've been thinking."

"Oh?"

"I don't yhink I'm very good at skating." He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down.

"What makes you say that?"

"I keep falling." I counted my on my fingers.

"Yesterday, seven times." Coach Emilia had actually counted. "And last Saturday..."

I held up both hands. "Ten..."

Grandpa nodded thoughtfully. "I see."

I poked my scrambled eggs with my fork. "Maybe skating doesn't like me."

Instead of answering right away, he reached into the pocket of his coat and place something on the table.

A tiny notebook.

It's cover was sky blue, with little white flowers printed around the edges.

I titled my head. "What's this?"

"A skating journal."

I blinked. "For me?"

"For you."

I carefully picked it up as thought it were something fragile. The pages smelled brand new.

On the first page, written in Grandpa's neat handwriting, were the words.

For every little step you take.

I smiled. "It's pretty."

"I want you to bring it to every lesson."

"Why..?"

"So we can celebrate your victories."

I frowned "But I don't win..."

Grandpa smiled gently. "Who said victories only happen when you win?"

I looked confused. He pointed toward the notebook.

"After every lesson, write one thing you did better than yesterday."

"What if..." I hesitated. "there's nothing better?"

He shook his head. "There is always something."

"Even if it's very small?"

"Especially if it's very small."

That afternoon, Coach Emilia clapped her hands once. "Today's goal."

I straightened immediately.

"Don't fall?"

She laughed "That would be nice."

The other children giggled.

"But today's goal is even simpler." She pointed toward the opposite end of the rink.

"I want everyone to skate from here... to there."

My eyes followed her finger. It looked very far.

"Without flying?"

Coach blinked. "Flying?"

"You know..." I failed my arms dramticay. "...Like this."

The other kids laughed. Coach smiled

"Without falling."

"Oh... That's harder."

"It is."

One by one, the other children took their turns.

Some made it.

Some didn't.

One little boy fell halfway and laughed so hard that everyone else started laughing too.

Then Coach looked at me. "Ali."

My stomach flipped. "My turn?"

She nodded. "You can do it."

I wasn't so sure, I looked toward the glass. Right on time, Grandpa was already there.

He had arrived straight from the meeting, still wearing his gray suit. The moment our eyes met.

He smiled, then gave me a tiny thumbs up. I couldn't help smiling back.

"... Okay."

I took a deep breath. One foot, then the other.

Scrraape...

Scrraape...

Small steps.

Just like Coach taught me. My knees stayed bent. My arms stretched out like airplane wings.

Halfway there, I wobbled.

"Oh!"

The runk suddenly felt slippery again. I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm going to fall.."

But I didn't. I opened my one eye, then the other. I was still standing.

"I'm alive."

Coach covereyher mouth to hide a laugh.

"Yes, you are."

I looked at my skates. "...Good job."

A few more careful pushes... and then. I reached the end.

"I did it?!"

Coach beamed. "You did it!" The children clapped.

I immediately looked toward the glass. Grandpa wasn't clapping this time.

Instead, he placed one hand over hus heart and bowed dramatically toward me.

I burst into laughter.

"What was that?" Coach asked.

"My Grandpa, he always does silly things." As if he heard me, Grandpa pretended to dust off an invisible hat and gave me another exaggerated bow.

I giggled so hard that I almost lost my balance again.

For the first time, I had crossed half the rink without falling. Maybe it didn't seem like much to everyone else.

But to a seven year old girl. It felt like U had crossed and entire world.

After practice, Coach Emilia clapped her hands together.

"Excellent work today, everyone." The children cheered.

I sat down on the wooden bench with a dramatic sigh. "...I'm tired."

Coach smiled while kneeling in front of me.

"Tired already?'

"My legs feel funny."

"They're getting stronger."

"...Really?"

"They are."

I looked at my tiny legs. "They still look little."

Coach laughed. "They're supposed to." She began loosening the laces of my skates. The moment my feet were free, I wiggled my toes.

"Ahhhhh..."

"Better?"

"So much better." I picked up one of my skates and stared at it.

"... You're heavy." The skate, of course, said nothing. "I still don't like you very much."

Coach chuckled. "I think your skates are starting to feel offended."

My eyes widened.

"... They have feelings?"

"No."

"...Oh." I nodded seriously. "I almost feel sorry."

As I carefully put my sneakers back on, another little girl sat beside me. She had a short black hair tied into two tiny pigtails.

She smiled shyly. "Hi."

I smiled back. "...Hi."

"My name's Mia."

"I'm Ali."

She pointed toward the rink. "You skate funny."

I gasped. "...I do?"

She nodded. "Like this." She stood up and exaggeratedly waddled across the floor with her feet turned out.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

I stared at her for a second... Then burst into laughter. "I don't walk like that!"

"You do."

"I don't!"

"You really do."

Coach covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Ali..."

"...She's actually right."

I slowly turned toward Coach. "...Even you?"

"I'm afraid so."

I looked toward the glass.

"Grandpa!" He looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading.

"...Do I walk funny?"

Without missing a beat, he nodded.

"You do."

I dramatically placed a hand over my heart. "...Everyone is bullying me."

Coach laughed. "Mia wasn't teasing you."

"She wasn't?"

Mia quickly shook her head. "No!"

"I just think it's cute."

I blinked. "...Cute?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"My first day was worse."

"...Really?"

"I cried."

"You cried?"

She nodded. "I didn't want to come back." I looked at her in surprise.

"But..."

"...You're really good now." She smiled proudly.

"I've been skating for three years."

Three years that sounded like forever. "...Will I become good too?"

She thought for a moment. Then grinned. "If you keep coming."

A few minutes later... Coach gathered everyone into a circle.

"Before you all go home..." She held up a small basket.

"I have stickers." The children immediately cheered.

My eyes sparkled.

"...Stickers?" Coach nodded.

"One for everyone."

One by one, she handed them out.

A star.

A rainbow.

A little penguin.

When it was my turn, she smiled before placing a tiny silver snowflake sticker in my hand.

"...For me?"

"For you."

I stared at it. "It sparkles."

"It does."

"...Why did I get a snowflake?" Coach gently tapped the tip of my nose.

"Because today...you stopped being afraid of the ice."

I looked down at the tiny sticker.

It wasn't shiny because it was expensive.

It wasn't special because it was rare.

It was special because...

Coach believed I had earned it.

Very carefully... I peeled the backing off. Then opened the little notebook Grandpa had given me. On today's page, I had written in my crooked handwriting.

Today I crossed half the rink without falling. Below it, I carefully pressed the snowflake sticker onto the page.

Perfectly straight.

Well...Almost.

It was a little crooked.

I frowned at it. "...Oops."

Coach peeked over my shoulder. "I like it."

"It isn't straight." She smiled warmly.

"Neither is learning." I looked at the page again.

Then I smiled too. Maybe it was perfect anyway.

Outside the rink, Grandpa waited with two chocolate ice cream cones in his hands.

The moment I saw them, I gasped.

"You remembered!"

"I made a promise."

I happily accepted one of the cones. "Thank you!"

As we began walking through the mall, I proudly held up my notebook.

"Grandpa, look!" He stopped to admire the page.

"The snowflake."

"And I wrote something."

He read my uneven handwriting slowly. A smile spread across his face.

"I'm proud of you."

I looked up at him. "...Because I crossed the rink?"

He gently shook his head. "No, Princess. Because today you believed in yourself a little more than you did yesterday."

I looked down at my notebook.

Then at the tiny snowflake.

Then at my melting ice cream.

Life suddenly felt very, very good. I took a huge bite of the chocolate ice cream.

It was so cold that I squeezed my eyes shut. "Grandpa..."

"Yes?"

"...I think my brain froze."

He laughed so hard that several people walking by couldn't help but smile.

Hand in hand we continued walking through the mall. One carried a tiny notebook with a crooked snowflake. The other carried a heart full of pride.

That evening the house smelled like chicken soup. I sat at the dining table, absentmindedly swinging my feet beneath the chair.

"... Grandpa."

"Hm?"

"My legs hurt."

He looked up from the bowl he was serving. "They're supposed to."

"...Everything hurts."

He chuckled. "Even your eyebrows?"

I instinctively touched them. "...No."

"There you go."

I pouted. "I think my feet are angry."

"They'll forgive you."

"...When?"

"Tomorrow."

"...Tomorrow is too long."

He laughed softly as he placed a warm bowl of soup in front of me.

"Eat first."

I looked into the bowl. There were carrots. I sighed dramatically. "...The carrots came too."

"They always do."

"They follow me everywhere."

"I believe they're trying to make friends."

"I don't want carrot friends."

"You might change your mind."

"I won't."

He simply smiled. "We'll see."

After dinner I climbed onto the living room sofa with my little notebook tucked under one arm.

Grandpa sat in his favorite armchair, reading through a stack of documents from work.

The room was peaceful only the soft ticking of the old wall clock and the occasional rustle of paper filled the silence. I opened my notebook to today's page.

The silver snowflake sticker sparkled under the lamp. I traced it gently with my fingertip. Then I looked at the blank page beside it.

"...Grabdpa?" He lowered his glasses slightly.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Can I draw?"

"You don't have to ask."

"It's your notebook." I smiled, I grabbed my box of crayons and carefully chose the light blue one. My tongue peeked out the corner of my mouth as I concentrated.

First... A circle.

Then another. A tiny stick figure.

A bigger stick figure beside it. Then a huge white square.

Well... It was supposed to be the skating rink. After several minutes, I proudly held the notebook high.

"I'm done!"

Grandpa stood and walked over. He sat beside me, studying the drawing as though it belonged in an art gallery.

"...Tell me about it."

I pointed excitedly. "This is me."

"The little one?"

"Mhm, and this?"

"That's you."

He smiled. "I'm much taller than I expected."

"You are."

"And this big square?"

"The ice."

"I see." He nodded thoughtfully.

"It looks very cold."

"It is." I giggled. Then pointed toward dozens of tiny blue circles scattered across the page.

"And those?"

"...Those are where I fell."

Grandpa blinked. "There are quite a lot."

"I know." I counted them with my finger.

"One..."

"Two..."

"...Eight."

He looked at me. "So many."

I nodded proudly. "I got up every time." For a moment...

He didn't say anything. Instead, he gently ruffled my hair.

"I know." His voice was quiet.

"So did I." I tilted my head.

"...You fell too?"

He smiled. "Many times."

"When?"

"Oh..." He leaned back against the sofa. "When I started my first business."

"You fell?"

"Not on the ground."

"In here." He tapped the center of his chest. "I made mistakes."

"I lost money. I became scared."

I frowned. "...Did you cry?"

He laughed. "More than once."

I looked at him in complete surprise. "Grown-ups cry?"

"We do."

"...I thought only kids cried."

He shook his head. "Crying doesn't belong to children. It belongs to people."

I quietly thought about that. Then II scooted closer until my shoulder rested against his arm. "...I'm glad."

"Oh?"

"If grown-ups cry too...then maybe it isn't embarrassing."

His smile softened. "It never was."

Before bedtime Grandpa tucked the blanket around me like he always did. He reached over to switch off the lamp. But before he could...

I sat up. "...Wait!"

"What is it?"

I reached for my notebook on the bedside table. There was still one empty space beneath today's drawing.

Carefully...

Very carefully...

I wrote one more sentence in my uneven handwriting. Today I learned that falling is not the same as failing. I stared at the words for a long moment. Then closed the notebook with a satisfied nod.

"...Done."

Grandpa looked at the page. His eyes lingered on the sentence.

For just a second...

His smile wavered.

Not because he was sad. But because he realized something.

She remembered. Not the fall. Not the applause.

The lesson.

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "I'm proud of you, Princess."

I smiled sleepily. "...Goodnight, Grandpa."

"Goodnight."

He turned off the light. As the room slipped into darkness, the little blue notebook rested quietly on the bedside table. Its pages held only a few stickers...

A crooked drawing. And one sentence written by a seven year old girl. To anyone else, it would have looked ordinary.

But years later when the ice would ask Ali to make the hardest choice of her life. Those simple pages would remind her of where everything began.