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Informationen zum Autor Gail Nall lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with her family and more cats than necessary. She once drove a Zamboni, has camped in the snow in June, and almost got trampled in Paris. Gail is the author of the middle grade novel Breaking the Ice , the coauthor of You're Invited and You're Invited Too , and the author of the young adult novel Exit Stage Left . You can find her online at GailNall.com and on Twitter as @GaileCN. Klappentext Kaitlin has given up a lot to pursue her dream of being a champion figure skater, but after she throws a tantrum at a major competition, she is dropped by her skating club and can only get a spot in the much-ridiculed Fallton Club.Breaking the Ice Chapter One I have my fingers crossed for a gold medal. Not where everyone can see them, of course, but hidden in the sleeve of my maroon-and-white Ridgeline Figure Skating Club jacket. If I win this competition, it’ll show the judges I’m the skater to beat at Regionals in October. My stomach rumbles. It’s almost three o’clock, and the last thing I ate before I performed was a bowl of Toasted Oats cereal early this morning. And by morning, I mean even-the-birds-are-still-asleep morning. So by now, the concession-stand popcorn smells like something gourmet. I try to ignore it and stand on the tiptoes of my plastic blade guards to look for my friend Ellery. I can’t spot her in the sea of girls in sparkling dresses crowding the hallway. “Aren’t you cold, Kaitlin?” Mom pulls her wool coat tighter around her. I shake my head. I’m rolling back and forth on my blade guards. Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe. Mom and Dad got me new pink-and-white guards for my twelfth birthday, to match my competition dress. I glued some rhinestones to them, so they kind of twinkle in the lights when I walk. My coach, Hildy, always says you want every little detail to be perfect. Mom checks the time on her phone. “Where are the results?” Like magic, a competition volunteer threads her way through the anxious crowd in the hallway and tacks the results to the bulletin board. Everyone swarms forward. The volunteer has to elbow her way to safety. A tingling feeling shoots through my body. This is it. Dad squeezes my shoulder as we shuffle toward the board. Mom sips coffee and grips her phone, ready to post the good news online for friends and family. Hildy keeps trying to guess who’s placed. “It’ll be a toss-up between you and that tiny blond girl from Detroit for first,” she whispers. “It depends on whether the judges dock your double flip for under-rotation. The girl in the green dress from the Fallton Club was dreadful. She’ll place last, for certain.” I tune Hildy out and squint at the eight-by-ten white sheet of paper. Ellery’s in the very front. She hugs her mom, which can only mean she’s gotten good marks. She’s clutching the bejeweled pink water bottle I made her. It took me all day last Tuesday, but I finished one for every girl in the club, with their names in silver and tons of glitter to make them really sparkly. Another girl runs off, her eyes red and watery. I can’t see the names or scores yet, so I concentrate on not stepping on anyone’s toes with my skates. I’m not going to think about how the results of the Praterville Open can determine the course of my entire season and whole skating career. If I win here, then it shouldn’t be hard to do the same at Regionals, where I can qualify for Nationals. Ever since I’ve known what Nationals is, I’ve wanted to go. And if I make it this year, I’ll be on track toward the biggest competition of all—the Olympics. ...
