The rink had just been resurfaced, but adjusting to the extra stickiness of the floor was only Ryan’s second problem. His first was a tall bottle-rocket of a girl. Jessica.
Seconds before, Ryan had been practicing his backwards dance moves. He was getting better, but he knew the real jam skaters didn’t knock so many sixth graders off their feet. They practically floated around the rink moving together in perfect synchronicity. That’s what he was thinking when he felt strong hands pull him past the deejay stand. He heard Jessica sneer “payback” into his ear. By the time he thought to do something—squat, wiggle, turn around—he was sailing past a row of stalls the color of guacamole. A girl screamed when she saw him in the mirror, which made the other lip-glossed girls stop their unnecessary reapplications and turn around. Ryan looked to the floor and that’s when he remembered how to stop.
“What are you doing in here, perv?” Jessica snarled.
Just as quick he was back on the rink. He wracked his brain trying to think of a reason for Jessica’s revenge. Ryan had no idea, but he wasn’t going to practice dancing backwards anymore.