I give myself ten seconds to feel weird about my brand-new, good-for-an-ice-chopper, figure skating partner before shaking it off. I don’t got time for doubt.

So what if it’s not exactly what I imagined? So what if he’s not Roman Henley? Henley’s laid up; he’s no good to me.

Reggie's going to skate with me, which means my Olympic dreams are a go, baby!

I'm so excited, I gotta show it. I drop it like it's hotter than hell and turn it into a perfect sit spin, twirling on the ice. After a full 180, I stand back up, posing for the judges.

Coach claps, and after a second, so does Reggie. He adds a whistle, too. Extra, but I kinda like it.

“Nice, Shauna, very nice,” says Coach. “Okay, team. Rest up. We’ll meet back up tomorrow and really get going.”

I head to the side of the rink to swap my skates for my kicks and put my street clothes back on over my practice leotard. Slinging my duffel over my shoulder when I’m done, I head for the door.

Reggie’s back dressed too, looking pretty good in a Black Panther tee and purple hoodie. I catch his eye and say, “Hope you’re ready to practice, boy. I’m gonna skate rings around you.”

He shrugs, easy, full of chill and confidence. “Hey, I can hustle. You just wait and see what I can do. I’ll skate so graceful, you won’t even remember that Roman guy’s name.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Big talk. We’ll see if you can back it up.”

He squares up, pulling a serious face. “I don’t spit nonsense. I’m good for it, girl.” He relaxes and opens the door for me. “Wanna go for some food? I know a great burger joint.”

I toss my hair, my thick curls bouncing. “You trying to get something out of me? Don’t get cute now.” I don’t want him to think he’s got me wrapped around his little finger.

He laughs. “Woah, Shauna, chill!” He gives me a smile--a little shy, a lot sweet--and my stomach swoops. “We’re partners, yeah? Let’s act it.”

Partners. That word is music to my ears. Olympic music. I can’t help but grin. “Hell, yeah. I could murder a burger.”

Reggie’s place is just a ten-minute walk from the rink, a cute building with a red roof and faded sign. Inside, it’s got a lot of booths, a long counter, and smells like grease and sugar. Heaven.

My stomach growls like Wolverine on a bad day. I get myself a double cheeseburger, large fries, and a large strawberry milkshake. I figure I’ve earned it.

Reggie gets himself two burgers, two shakes, fries, and onion rings. “I’m a growing boy,” he says when he sees me eying him. “I’ll share the onion rings, though, if you want.”

I put a hand on my hip. “Takes energy to skate. You won’t see me counting your calories, and you’d best not mind mine.”

He shakes his head, eyes crinkled in amusement. “I would never. You clearly got your figure well in hand.”

Ooh, this boy is too good. He can turn anything into flirting. I need to watch myself.

We get our food within a few minutes, all steaming hot and making my mouth water like Niagra Falls. Reggie leads me to a booth in the back corner. I sling my bag down and sit across from him.

True to his word, he sets the onion rings between us. “So, what’s a fine girl like you do when you’re not murdering on the ice?” he asks as he unwraps his first burger.

I take an onion ring, biting into it. Smells too good to wait for it to cool. The onion is soft and perfect. “The usual--school, read my comics, watch movies, hang with my crew. Skating’s my main thing.”

“I figured. Olympics ain’t for just everyone.” He’s already half done with his first burger. Not just a wolf on the ice, I guess.

“I ain’t anyone. I’m a star, and I’ll show it.” I hesitate for a second, but Reggie’s my partner now. I’m gonna trust him with my body on the ice. I can trust him with my dreams. “I’m gonna get out of here, just you wait and see.”

“Where you gonna go?” he asks, watching me with a lot of focus, like he’s really listening.

“Out of town. Out of all of Canada. Everywhere I’ve ever been here, people want to tell me I don’t belong. I’ll show ‘em.” I snap a fry in half with a vengeance. “They’re gonna beg me to notice them in my DMs.”

He laughs, unwrapping his second burger. Boy really can eat. “What about your folks? They cool?”

“Yeah, they got my back,” I tell him and take a deep breath. Might as well go all in. “They adopted me, y’know? I don’t know my birth parents at all.”

His eyebrows go up, but that’s all. He gets points for not flipping. “Damn, Puck. That’s rough shit.”

“It don’t matter,” I say fiercely, wishing I could believe it a little more than I do. “Their loss.”

“I’d say so,” he says, shaking his head. “Anyone not backing you is a fool, no mistake.”

I dip my fries in my shake. “Those mean girls at school don’t matter one bit. They can tear me down all they want, but I’m making it to the Olympics.”

He twists his lips like he smelled something bad. “I know the type. Wanna spit on anyone doing it for themself, hate seeing us succeed.”

It’s like he’s seen it himself. “The Winter Olympics have been my dream forever. And I’m gonna make it and get that gold medal and rub it in Mercury Parker’s smug little face.”

“Mercury Parker, huh?” He snorts. “That’s a real white girl name.”

“Uh-huh. Her daddy is the principal, too.” I roll my eyes, digging into my own burger. Don’t want it to get cold. “I got more grit and talent in my pinky toe than she got in her whole damn body.”

He chokes on his soda mid-sip. “Nah, you playing me? Principal’s daughter?”

I nod. “True shit. And she thinks it means she can do anything she damn pleases. I ain’t gonna let her just dump on me, though. And neither are my friends.”

Reggie takes a big bite of his burger and nods. There’s a bit of lettuce stuck to his cheek. He licks it off. “Talk shit, get hit.”

“Easy for a hockey player to say,” I say. It’s nice to picture Mercury on the ice, checking her into a wall. I point a fry at him. “You got plans, or you just skating with me to get close to the talent?”

He lifts his chin, offended. “Hey, I’m not staying here either.”

“Yeah? What you gonna do?” I take another bite of my burger. He can talk for a bit so I can eat.

He shrugs one shoulder. “My people’s blue collar. I’m proud of them, proud of their work. But I wanna do more than that. I wanna be able to support my folks when they’re old.”

I swallow, a little surprised. I didn’t think he’d be that kind of good boy. “That’s sweet.”

He shakes his head, dead serious. “That’s what you do. I’m gonna be a doctor. Sports medicine. That means a lotta school, lotta money, lotta what we don’t have.”

I can really see that for him. Picture him in the white coat, giving that serious look to an injury, making his younger patients laugh. “Lotta work, too.”

“I’m good for it. Just need to get there.” He ruffles his hair and sighs. “Hockey’s a tight field. I’m good, but good ain’t good enough. Figure skating though, not as many guys going for that.”

“True ‘nuff. It’s hard to find a real good partner.” Part of why losing Roman Henley had hit so hard. The male talent pool was shallow AF.

He grins at me, boyish again. “Lucky you, then, huh?”

I brush him off, but it’s just playing. I am lucky, and we both know it.

Burgers and shakes became our post-practice routine. We talk about our lives, our hopes for the future, Marvel comics of course. But mostly we just open up. It feels like I’ve known him for forever.

“Let’s make a pact,” he says one day, when our food’s down to wrappers between us.

“A pact? Sounds a little corny,” I tease. “You want me to protect your secret identity?”

He frowns. “Puck, I’m serious. We gotta look out for each other. I’ll always lift you up, push you to the next level, and you do the same for me.”

For a second, I can’t talk. Seeing him so serious, wanting to look out for me, it’s a lot to take. He ain’t my parents or my coach; he’s tying his dreams to mine.

But it’s not really different from what we've been doing. “Deal.” We shake on it, and I put on my best Storm voice. “They were beaten before we began.”

He cackles, turning the handshake into a fist tap. “Hell, yes, that’s what I wanna hear, girl!”

I’m so pleased, my body feels warm all over. But I also wanna escape all these big feelings. Luckily, I have a perfect distraction.

“Oh, hey, I thought of what we should do after the second turn.” I grab a napkin and start scribbling down some ideas. We’ve been working our routine out this way all week.

He leans over to see what I’m drawing. “Nice, that looks good.” He puts his finger on the napkin, after a series of spins. “What if we add a lift here?”

I nod, hitting him with my curls in my excitement. “Yeah, yeah, that’d be sick.”

He sits back, snatching a fry out of my abandoned bag. “Now we just need a theme. Can’t really settle on a routine until we got the music.”

The idea hits me like, well, lightning. “I should be Storm.” I whisper it, so wrapped up in what I’m picturing, I barely know he’s there.

“You’re Storming all over that ice every day,” Reggie says. He knows I imagine her for confidence, but I’m thinking way bigger.

“No, I wanna literally be Storm out there.” I grab a fresh napkin and start sketching. “Do my costume like her, skate to the movie soundtrack.”

His smile lights up his face. He sees it, too. “Now that sounds killer.”

“I can do my nails in purple and lightning, put a lightning bolt on my costume. Maybe do a longer skirt so it’s like a cape.” A white wig would be too much. Or would it?

He’s leaned over, too, so our foreheads are nearly touching. He loves it as much as I do. “The judges’ll be blown away. This is it. We’re gonna go all the way on this one.”

Reggie and I spend another hour planning. It’s getting dark by the time I get home, but I’m too happy to care about my homework or anything. Nothing on my mind but how we’ll skate tomorrow.

“I’m home!” I shout as I come in. My dad’s in the living room; he waves to me from his chair.

“Shauna, hey, baby,” my mom says, coming out of the kitchen to hug me. “Why you out so late?”

“Working on my routine with Reggie, Mom, just like I’ve been all week.” I wanna roll my eyes, but I know I’ll get in mega-trouble, so I don’t.

“That’s my hard working girl,” Dad says. “ But you gotta relax, too. You don’t win by breaking down. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

“I hear you. But we got to work right now. We’re brand-new partners, and we got regionals.”

“It’s your birthday soon,” Dad says, quiet and kind of tired. “No working late then.”

I shrug. “I’m turning seventeen, it ain’t special. Probably just gonna do something chill with my friends.”

Mom gives me a look. “Not special! Uh-uh, I won’t hear that. Your birthday’s special every year.”

“And especially this year,” Dad adds.

I look at them both, confused. Why are they being so serious? “C’mon, let’s just keep it low-key, please?”

Mom’s face is stern and serious. Dad looks like he’s gonna cry or something. She reaches for my hand, pats it between hers. “Honey, you gotta understand. This birthday’s gonna change your life.”

“All right, sure.” What the hell are they bugging about? The vibe is super weird. “I got homework, so I’m gonna hit my room. Call me for dinner, k?”

I hightail it to my room, stomach twisting. My parents aren’t like that. You’d think someone died or something. Something weird is going on.

I put on my headphones and cue up the soundtrack we’re skating to. I need to focus on this. Can’t worry about anything else.

I almost make myself believe it.