The Blue on Her Skates

Beatrice bolted out of the arena, shock and fury engulfing her body. She felt her fingertips turn into cobalt as she stopped to rest, turning strictly away from the blue-eyed boy who had just watched her leave. It was a moment of pure panic, but a satisfying result: she could win.

Stumbling back inside, she felt her emotions pound in and out of her like a heartbeat. Everybody's dress sparkled the same way, all skates shined. Yet the double jump Marianne performed seemed too perfect; it had to be from an older girl, docking points for not competing in the proper league. 

Marianne sat in a plastic chair in the bare room, looking down at her blades. Her cherry-colored dress sparkled brightly, the way only homemade costumes can. 

She looked at her ID card. 

Age: 17 was plastered on the front. Her true age. A young age, perfect for road trips in sunshine, dancing through poppies, or competing in teenage ice skating contests like this one.

"I don't know how old she is," Marianne heard Beatrice say in the corner. 

Blue filled her face.

Instantly, flames rose in her cheeks, and she turned to see Marianne just as flushed. 

Seeking refuge from her shame, Beatrice battled between going outside or going back to the ice rink. The sunset had seeped through the large window, casting the sky into dazzling scarlett hues. But Beatrice floated towards the sapphire gates of the rink, where the others were. She found solace in them.

"Until we figure this out, Beatrice gets 1st place. Marianne, I'm sorry," she heard the boy in the corner say. 

She winced.

Marianne's rosy cheeks sagged. Yet she stood there, long and good, watching her friend take gold. 

In the corner of her eye, she saw the blue-eyed boy from the side of the room snicker. It was a familiar face; she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Then he smiled. Marianne's eyes popped. Atop the podium, Beatrice stayed.

 Night had set in by that point, and the red dawn faded into a deep navy.