October 17, 2011 by admin
Filed under Contemporary Romance, Larry Hammersley, Short Stories
Logan Miller sat in his college dorm room staring at his online lecture notes from Professor Crandall’s organic chemistry class. He groaned to himself at his low C grade. His roommate, Tyler, had already left on his Friday night date. Who was it? Hannah, Emily or was it Savannah? He couldn’t keep them straight but apparently Tyler could. Before Tyler left he gave his usual lecture about Logan needing a girl friend. What he needed was an understanding of organic synthesis, starting materials and how to get the final products. Ugh! He hated rote memorization.
He switched off his computer and closed his thick organic text with its cheap glossy cardboard covers and hundred dollar price tag. He looked out his second story window and saw the lights come on at the outdoor ice rink two blocks away. The rink opened at 7:30 and closed two hours later. He needed a break despite being faced with the organic exam the next morning at 9:00. What a horrible class schedule he had: organic chemistry on a Saturday morning.
The January night cold bit at him but his ski-style gloves, new jeans, two layered socks, black ear muffs and The North Face running jacket his older brother, Brandon, had given him for Christmas, kept him protected. The stars above gave their intense pin points of light despite the street lights as he carefully avoided patches of ice on the sidewalk.
The peppy organ music reminded him of the old roller rink back home. Sadly, it closed four years ago, preempted by other, more modern activities for the school kids.
Logan could see the rink was already crowded, numerous skaters of all ages sliding around at differing speeds. He picked up the rental skates and found a spot on the bench at the edge of the ice. As he laced up his skates, he heard a whistle blow. At the far end of the rink he saw two skaters shouting at each other, one a woman with a whistle around her neck, the other a man who stood three or more inches taller than the woman. Logan could tell she was winning the argument, her voice loud and angry above the din of music, skater conversations and ‘slice, slice, slice’ of the multitude of skate blades. From her gestures he surmised she was telling him to slow down or she’d throw him out.
Logan wouldn’t have to worry about breaking her speed rules. He was good on roller skates but with ice skating he would have to take it easy.
He waited for an opening and then launched himself into the crowd. At first his ankles buckled slightly but he finally overcame that wobbly stance as he picked up a little speed. Still skaters were passing him and Mr. Speedster went back to his fast mode as long as the woman wasn’t watching him. Logan felt his wind as he came dangerously close on his fast trip around the rink. Logan hoped the whistle woman did throw him out.
He paid close attention to nearby skaters. What he didn’t need was a fall and associated broken bones. A boy, probably seven or eight, cut across his path at a slow pace and Logan barely missed him. An elderly couple with arms locked passed him, giving him a good margin. He admired their fluid motion as they slid through narrow gaps of the skaters. Mr. Speedster nicked his elbow on his blinding speed around the ice oval. The
rink sergeant lady was at the opposite end helping a teenage girl regain her feet.
Logan almost reached her when she skated away. It was the first time he’d seen her up close. Her long black hair flowed from under her toboggan as she gained speed by her flawless action, leaning forward and swinging her arms gently. She wore a short dark blue coat with a fur collar. Her legs were covered by a black tight fitting material. Below her coat and reaching to her knees was a fully-flared woolen skirt that fluttered in the wind as she picked up speed. Logan shook his head at her striking appearance. He finally saw her face just for an instant as she turned near him and skated backward a short distance. She jumped and landed frontward to continue. Her lips were full, turned in a scowl, her dark eyes piercing, and her upturned nose delicate and the high cheekbones spoke of a possible American Indian connection. As beautiful as she was, Logan figured she was the female counterpart of his roommate, having a date with a different man every week.
A pre teen girl cut in front of Logan and he had to veer right to avoid hitting her. He managed to avoid a collision but the turn was too sudden for him and he went down. Sliding a few feet, he managed to avoid injury but he was in Mr. Speedster’s wild path. The fast skater jumped over him but his skate caught Logan’s forehead causing him to see stars. The speeding man never bothered to stop and check on him.
Logan touched his forehead and was relieved there was no blood. The whistle blew and the woman yelled.
“Everyone slow down. A skater is hurt.”
Through a cloud of pain, Logan watched her skate toward him and then make a sideways skidding stop, a shower of ice chips covering him. She went to one knee, her hair swaying forward, her brow creased with worry furrows.
“Oh, sorry about the ice shower,” she said, grinning and then continued as she gingerly touched his forehead.
“There’s no cut but you’ll have a goose egg if we don’t get an ice pack on it. Let’s get you over to the bench.”
She helped him up and Logan relished her gentle touch and marvelous strength as she hoisted him to his feet and led him to the bench. Once safely there she laid her hand on his shoulder.
“Stay here, I’m going to get an ice pack.”
He watched her skate away toward a box mounted on a pole and return with the ice pack. She took his hand, placed the soft ice pack in his palm and steered hand and pack to his injured head.
“Hold that against your spot. I have some unfinished business and then I’ll be back.” As she looked at the speedster Logan saw her gritting teeth and rippling jaw muscles. He decided he wouldn’t want to be in Mr. Speedster’s skates right now.
The speedster was going faster than ever but she easily overtook him. Logan was amazed at her speed and even more amazed when she grabbed his coat collar and did her sideways skid bringing both of them to an abrupt stop. The man looked down at her as she pointed for him to leave. He seemed to ignore her but that didn’t last long. She grabbed him more firmly and actually dragged him off, handling him like a rag doll. He wasted no time removing his skates and putting on his shoes while she stood with hands on her slender waist glaring down at him. That done, she returned to Logan and sat beside him.
“You’d better get checked at the infirmary to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” She removed the ice pack and peered at his bruise. Their eyes met and Logan gave her a feeble smile.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“It’s my job. I’m sorry you got hurt. I should have thrown that guy out at the start.”
“I hope I never get on your bad side,” Logan said, managing a weak chuckle.
“Oh, I don’t see you doing that.” She returned his smile.
“By the way, I’m Logan Miller.” He offered a handshake but she
got up and started to leave, before adding another comment.
“You’d better set the rest of this session out and if the headache continues don’t wait until the infirmary opens in the morning. Get to the hospital tonight… Logan.”
She skated away. Logan watched her another ten minutes and then removed his skates. As he slipped his shoes on he glanced her way one last time. She was on the far end of the rink and he thought she was looking at him but he wasn’t sure.
He returned his skates and the attendant told him to keep the ice pack and then pointed toward the rink. She had stopped at the entrance to the rink.
“How do you feel?” She asked.
“Still hurts but I don’t seem to be dizzy. No widespread headache.”
“Good, but you’d still better get checked out.” She turned to skate away and Logan started for the sidewalk.
“Brittany Crandall.” He looked back and she had stopped, and then turned away as their eyes met one last time for the night.
*****
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