His mother takes him to the rink the next
morning, just as he knew she would. On the way, she tries to ask
him about the races, about Dante’s chances at winning, about
anything to get him talking to her again, but Ryan stares balefully
out the window and answers in guttural, one-word replies. He’s
still mad at her about last night, even if she did wake up early to
take him to watch Dante skate.
In the parking lot, she stands by the chair
lift and keeps up a steady stream of babble that Ryan ignores.
Finally the chair is set on the ground and he hurries to get the
safety harness unstrapped before she can help. “I’ll see you later,
Mom,” he says as he starts to wheel towards the ramp that leads
inside the rink.
“What time do you need me to pick you
up?” she calls after him.
He
