The Skating Scaries

I’ve always loved recess. But right now, I want it to end. I sit on the monkey bars alone. I just moved from Florida to Vermont. I don’t know anybody.

Suddenly, a girl climbs up on the monkey bars and sits beside me.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if water fountains squirted out orange juice?” she says.

“Yeah! You could put a juicer inside the fountain so the juice would be super fresh. I just moved here from Florida, so I’m an orange juice expert,” I say.

“Cool!” the girl replies. “I’m Shanti, by the way.”

“I’m Reece,” I say with a smile.

Shanti smiles back. We climb down from the monkey bars. Shanti pulls out a notebook, and we start scribbling designs for an orange juice fountain. Two other kids join us, Theo and Ana.

Just like that, I have friends. The four of us click like a seat belt.

We design more awesome inventions. We play after school. We come up with a secret handshake. We call ourselves the S.T.A.R.s for Shanti, Theo, Ana, and Reece.

For a moment, my new life in Vermont feels perfect. But then, everything changes.

At lunch one day, Ana starts talking about how she just went ice-skating with her cousin.

“Oh, let’s all go on Saturday!” says Shanti. “We can meet at the ice rink
at the mall.”

Nooo, I think to myself. I’m horrible at ice-skating. But I bet all these Vermont kids have been skating since they could walk. I imagine them on the rink looking like Olympic gold medalists. What if my new friends realize I can’t skate and stop hanging out with me?

“Does Saturday work for you, Reece?” Shanti says.

“I have to . . . um . . . feed my neighbor’s guinea pig on Saturday,” I stammer.

“Does it take a whole day to feed a guinea pig?” asks Shanti.

“Yeah, this guinea pig has a weird disease. You have to cook special food for it. It takes forever. Sorry!” I say.

I can’t believe I just lied to my friends! But what choice do I have?

By Monday, the S.T.A.R.s (except for me) are obsessed with ice-skating. At recess, they jump and twirl in the air like figure skaters.

On Tuesday, we go to Ana’s house and watch videos of figure skaters and hockey players in the Olympics.

On Wednesday, Shanti draws pictures of us in matching ice-skating outfits.

By Friday, I’m sick of hearing about ice-skating. I hope everyone will forget about it soon . . . but they don’t.

“Reece, you have to come ice-skating with us on Saturday,” Theo says.

“I have a pogo stick competition,”
I answer.

“Where’s the competition? Maybe we can come cheer for you,” says Shanti.

“Pogo sticking is really serious. There’s no cheering allowed,” I say.

I wish I could stop lying, but I can’t.

After school, I tell my mom about what’s going on.

“Let’s go ice-skating, just you and me,” she suggests.

“I guess,” I say reluctantly.

At the rink, Mom holds my hands as I inch forward.

“You’re doing it!” Mom says. She lets go of my hands. I try to scoot forward and . . . WHUMP! I fall. I try to push myself up, and I fall again. WHUMP! I yank off my skates and stomp off the ice in my socks.

“I’m never doing this again!” I yell.

Every Saturday, my friends go ice-skating. Every Friday, I make up excuses for why I can’t go.

“I’m taking cupcake decorating lessons.”

“All the ants escaped from my ant farm, and I have to find them.”

“I have a rare toenail condition, so my toes can’t get cold.”

That’s three more times I’ve lied. Soon I’m going to lose count. The more I lie, the worse I feel!

One Saturday, Mom says she needs to run errands . . . at the mall. Nooo! I told my friends I was busy helping a cheese factory test out new cheeses all weekend. I can’t let them see me at the mall. I try to convince Mom to let me stay home, but she won’t listen.

I put on a disguise so my friends won’t recognize me. I wear sunglasses, a fake mustache, and a purple cowgirl hat.

At the mall, I start to get bored. Mom has been in the phone store for what feels like years. I make sure my mustache is securely attached, then I sneak a peek at the ice rink.

There are my friends! I expect them to jump and twirl, but they don’t. Ana scoots forward, and then . . . WHUMP! She falls! Theo reaches out to help her and WHUMP! He falls too. Shanti looks like she’s going to do a fancy spin, but then, WHUMP! She falls too! They’re all laughing. They get back up, skate a little more, and fall again.

“Mom, my friends are at the skating rink. Can I go?” I say.

Mom says yes, and I race toward the rink. I put on skates and step onto the ice, holding the side so I don’t fall. My friends see me and skate toward me.

“Reece? What are you wearing?” asks Ana. I’m about to lie and say I just came from riding a bull at a rodeo, but I stop myself. Finally, I tell the truth.

“I have to tell you guys something,” I confess. “I lied. A lot. I lied about my neighbor’s guinea pig, and the pogo stick competition, and the cupcake decorating lessons, and the ant farm.”

“And your toenail condition?” Theo adds.

“Yep,” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to admit to you that I’m bad at ice-skating. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be my friends anymore.”

“We would never do that, Reece,” Shanti says.

“Yeah! Without you, S.T.A.R. would just be, well, S.T.A.!” Ana giggles.

I giggle too. I feel happier than I’ve felt in a long time. I realize that real friends don’t need you to be good at everything. They just need you to be real.

Just then, I feel my legs begin to wobble. WHUMP! I fall down. Then, WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! My friends all fall down too.

“See, Reece? You didn’t need to worry about being bad at ice-skating. We’re all bad at it!” Theo says.

“But we’re good at having fun!” Shanti says with a grin.