Okay, so here it is! And just a little FYI, for the page breakers, I am going to be using a single period, and not the horizontal line thingy.

Breathing in deeply, she skated forward as she let go of her breath and broke free off of the cold ice, her whole body floating parallel to the ice through the air as if she had just suddenly grown wings of her own. But she knew all too well that these so-called "wings" were dead and that she'd eventually fall—she only hoped the fall wouldn't be too big of a drop…

As soon as the beating music blaring loudly from the speakers throughout the ice skating rink sounded off the cue of a loud crash! (sounding much like a glass cup or vase had just fallen and hit the cold hard ground) her snow white skates hit the ground. The timing was perfect, as usual, and her performance landing…well, it was almost perfect. Almost—meaning: both of her skates landed on the glazed ice ground—that was a plus—except during her process of going into a spin, she had lost her balance and her elegant frame came crashing down; she could only assume the reason as to why this happened was that since her skates hit the ground, the rest of her body felt the need to complete this movement so she was flat on the ground like a pancake.

"Wh-whoa!" she panicked as her graceful frame came crashing down, also causing her to take her performance with her down as well. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips as the music was shut off. "So much for being graceful," she gritted as she pressed her hands against the cold floor in attempt to bring herself back up to save the little dignity she had left since her fall.

Sighing as she struggled to come to a stand, she could hear her ice skating coach already mumbling and muttering all of the mistakes she had made during her performance from a mile away. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes waiting for the blow. Her coach always drilled down on her hard after each practice. It was only a matter of seconds now...

Five, four, three, two, one—

"Elsa! What in the world was that?"

She tensed up and slowly began to skate over to where her coach was standing on the other side of the wall, where there was no ice.

"I mean—what the heck?!" he continued. "Elsa, what happened back there? You were nearly doing everything perfectly! Of course, there are a few things you do need to perfect," he muttered off to the side as a note, "but that's not my concern!—as long as that butterfly jump is flawed—argh! Why can't you just make the landing? You've got the perfect parallel jump, your position and grace is absolutely beautiful, but then all of that beauty gets shoved down to the ground in a messy, messy mud pile as soon as you make that transition from your landing to your spin!"

Elsa nodded her head at each word as she chewed on her lip tensely. She slowly brought her left hand up to hold her right arm, but stopped her motion when she realized how red her hands were from the fall. And not to mention they were still wet. The whole front of her body was wet. She frowned in dismay as she brushed herself off. She didn't make the transition from the landing to the spin the way she had hoped she would ever since she had slapped her hand down on her alarm clock this morning. She continued to brush as her legs and arms as the pain of the fall began to sting and bite away at her fair skin. The cold didn't bother her much or play a big role in her discomfort from the fall since she was used to it; ever since she was little she's been living with the cold practically every day of her life. In a way, the chillness of the air was her friend.

"Do you understand?" her coach spoke firmly.

She snapped her head up to look him face to face. "Yes, Coach Sprinx," she exhaled. "I understand."

"I know this is from the aftermath of your absence in skating since your accident…but that was six months ago, Elsa. You used to be so good with everything!—the jumps, spins, turns…just everything!" Coach Sprinx strained with a sigh. "You've been working on this jump for the past month! Before you know it, that single number will become more than just one! And you know we don't have forever… You're only just barely getting your introduction to your solo completed with perfection, and we've got only so much time to get through the rest of the choreography to get your solo perfected! Your competition is coming up, and what, we only have five or six months left for you to get through your whole dance? Elsa, I know this is hard for you, but I need you to let go of whatever is holding you back—whatever fears you may have developed about skating—and just allow yourself to go with the flow."

Coach Sprinx pat Elsa on the back as he said, "Now get out of here. Your practice is over. And make sure you get a good night's rest tonight, and eat well…and I'll see you tomorrow bright and early, here at six, okay? And Elsa, remember: you've been skating since you were a little girl, and even then you were amazing. You've got raw talent. You just need to believe that, okay? Now don't stress too much about it, alright?"

She nodded her head with her gaze frozen to the ground, and Coach Sprinx smiled with a hint of empathy written across his face before walking off.

By the time he had walked quite a distance and had turned a corner, Elsa pursed her lips, breaking her still composure, bringing the palms of her hands up to her forehead, and crouched over as her skates began to glide her smoothly off on the ice and away from the wall. Why couldn't she get that jump down? Why was she having such a hard time? She was so frustrated. What was the big deal? She had that jump…she had that landing…at least she should've had that landing.

This morning she was so confident she would get that down. She even looked herself in the mirror and told herself seven times that she would make the landing and get that transition spin down.

Suddenly the lights that lit up the rink shut off, but it wasn't pitch dark. The windows from the entrance doors allowed the light that reflected off of the snow outside to brighten the room a little, so she wasn't alone in pure darkness.

Elsa slowly fixed her poise after she had eased up the tension in her body that overflowed with stress and frustration. Taking in a deep, soothing breath, she glanced over to the clock which read 6:00 P.M.

Normally she had ice skating practices early in the morning before school started, but since these past two weeks she had school off for the holidays, the time changed to 4:30 P.M. She would normally practice for at least an hour or more if possible, and if she could, she would practice for days on end. But because her coach wouldn't let her practice that long, the longest she would ever practice for would be a little over an hour; rarely would she ever get to two full hours. And it wasn't the idea of "practice makes perfect" that made her want to constantly be out on the ice in her skates, it was the idea that the more she would do something she loved, she would be able to embrace it and somehow become one with it…she would bond with it…and the sad thing was was that she used to actually have that. She used to be more than just a girl that loved to ice skate. She used to be more than just a figure skater.

And now, here she was, falling face down on the ice. She used to understand everything about ice skating. She used to feel everything about it.

It felt like she had lost her touch, or something. She didn't glide on the ice like she used to always. She didn't feel the ice carrying her along its surface anymore; all she felt was herself forcing her way across the ice. It didn't feel right. She was still able to do some moves and fancy tricks on the ice and somewhat make them look the slightest bit audience-worthy. But that didn't mean anything. That just meant that she was good, and had had some practice.

Just because she had the title of being an ice skater didn't mean she was actually who she was seen to be. She was no ice skater…if anything, she was a disgrace to the sport. It was like finding a book claiming the title of being able to show you the future, yet when you opened it, all you would find would be blank empty pages of nothing; it didn't show you the future. It was only a false statement that somehow titled the book to be what it supposedly was, or was intended to be, or was hoped to eventually become—yet it never did fulfil to that title—and no one ever bothered to change that title.

How was she supposed to become a professional figure skater if she didn't even connect with it anymore? She did once have that connection…but ever since that accident …

Elsa shook her head. She didn't need to reminisce on those memories. Those memories only made her bones ache and her body cringe. Those memories brought back the day she had suddenly lost connection with the ice, and herself, and what it meant to be a figure skater.

Slowly she began to push herself, gliding on the ice as if she were hauling a heavy ball and chain behind her. By the time she had made it to the exit to the ice rink, she closed the entrance that lead to the icy grounds and bent over to take her skate shoes off. When she had them off, she brought them in front of her, stared at it for only a moment, and shook her head. Maybe tomorrow she'd get down that butterfly jump.

When she had managed to gather all of her belongings and had shoved her skate shoes in her light blue sports duffle bag, along with placing her white ankle snow boots on, she marched up to the glass doors. Her hand never made it as close as an inch to the door, though, for as soon as she spotted her reflection, she couldn't help but stop and stare.

As she examined herself up and down, dressed in her plain, crystal blue practice dress, a small frown tugged at the edges of her lips and she forced herself forward and pushed open the door, followed by the next set of doors. You probably will never get that stupid jump down, a voice had echoed in her head. But she immediately brushed the thought off as if it were dust.

The cold immediately hugged at her body like it were a blanket when she stepped foot outside, and her exhaled air could be seen. She took a moment to stare at the foggy air that would puff up after each breath she took. Slightly smiling, she began heading on her way back home. Alright: she'd get the stupid jump down tomorrow.

.

The very next morning Elsa was up and about, practicing at the skating rink. The time read 6:45 A.M., and all she could hear was her coach shouting out at her, telling her all of these mistakes and problems she needed to fix. This only kept pulling at her heartstrings and she could feel her body tensing up out of frustration. Today was clearly going to be a long day. How in the world was she expected to be able to properly focus on school when she had better things, like practicing her solo for the upcoming competition? Oh how her school days were going to murder her. And if not that, well…they'd be ripping her mind apart, piece by piece, like taking apart a giant, billion pieced puzzle that had finally been completed within the time span of seventeen years.

"Elsa! Straighten your legs!" Coach Sprinx shouted.

She pursed her lips as she immediately made the corrections.

"Your arms! What are they doing?! You're not trying to make this look like a horror film! You're trying to make this look elegant and graceful with a hint of sadness! Relax, Elsa! I can see you're tense!"

She then tried to make an attempt at loosening her arms, but that only made her muscles tighten even more.

"Okay, you've got this! Make that land and transition for me!" he yelled when it was near the time for her to do the butterfly jump. She had to frown at the thought of the two simple words of "butterfly jump." In her mind the jump didn't deserve to be called a butterfly jump—especially when she was doing this jump—really it should be called the black widow jump, for whenever she was doing it, she would always land in a way that made her legs feel and look like the legs of a spider.

Sucking in a deep breath, she threw herself into the air, the whole time the thought of how should would land in the most disgraceful way ever, stuck in her mind. When her skates touched the surface of the ice, just like how she thought she would land became a reality. So much for completing her main goal to get this jump down…

Sighing, she continued on with her skating when she heard her coaches' voice telling her to just continue on. She could already see him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he normally did when something got so terribly messed up; he used to never do this to her. The only times she would see him do this was normally to his other students. He would oftentimes invite her to come to some of his lessons to be an example and help those who were trying to learn new moves or were trying to perfect their moves. She used to be the best out of everyone…now she wasn't even sure where she stood. Probably at the very end of the scale now…

This ice dance she was practicing for—she knew the whole dance by heart and she had listened to the whole entire song she skated to more than enough to have it memorized; she knew the beats she needed to hit and she knew what her timing was supposed to be fairly well. The only problem was she just didn't seem to know how to do the more advanced moves with the appearance of effortless and undefined beauty and grace anymore. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for this solo like she used to be six months ago, before that accident, anymore. Why was her coach even having her do this solo for the competition? She wasn't even at the top of the scale—not even close to being at the top of the scale. If anything, she was at the very, rock bottom end of it, and for her to be able to claim her podium at the top would take more than a zillion years, probably.

As she began to cross her feet in attempt to cross chasse before she would have to go into arabesque, her skate blades ran into each other and she nearly fell over. Thankfully, however, she managed to somehow save herself from the fall that really would've made her lose all of her dignity for good. "Oh, my gosh…" She groaned. Just watch, before you know it she wouldn't even know how to do the basics of figure skating in a way that wouldn't make her appear like a five year old child anymore.

By the time the music began to come to an end like a lingering echo barely fading away, yet never truly coming to a complete silence, Elsa held still in the pose she was supposed to end in, with her arms both up and slowly falling down like they were supposed to be fading, much like the role of her character in the solo, who was supposed to be fading as well.

In her dance, she was supposed to be a beautiful white swan princess that eventually turned black and became nothing but a graceful nightmare in the end, and never turned back. It was supposed to be a tragedy. The storyline of her ice skating dance was supposed to be a little based off of the storyline to Swan Lake, but not quite. The idea of the theory of the black swan was also behind the inspiration to her dance. She had originally choreographed this dance by herself, and had chosen the music herself as well, just for this competition, way back when she wasn't stuttering her moves and was actually good—when she actually considered herself good—even great. She had created this dance before her accident.

In truth she was actually sort of glad her coach wasn't asking her to give up her dance and allow some other figure skater to do her dance for her. She had this pride that made her only want to allow herself to perform this piece, for she was the only one who knew how to express it in all of the right ways.

When she was sure the music was officially over, she then broke free from her performance mode and turned around, almost a little fearful to see how her coaches' face would look. Probably one of total disgust. Who knows how many mistakes she had made! It wouldn't be a surprise if she found her coach lying on the ground, seeming to have fainted from her atrocious performance. No one needed to tell her that she wasn't doing that great of a job… She could feel that she wasn't doing that great.

Elsa's breath hitched in her throat when her coach was giving her the stare while too pinching the bridge of his nose. Oh gosh. This was not good. Not good at all. This was even more worsethan having him faint or drop dead from her performance!

Taking in a deep breath, she began to skate herself towards him, twiddling her fingers together. Pursing her lips, she looked at her coach with ocean blue eyes that were overflowing with fear. She wasn't sure whether or not she felt like she wanted to cry or not, but whatever feeling was tugging and causing her eyes to slightly start to heat up was really freaking her out a bit.

"Coach Sprinx…?" Elsa hesitantly called out to him, causing him to shake his head a little. She immediately began to bit down on her lower lip. She felt like crying in a corner.

Coach Sprinx sighed and readjusted his white branded cap while putting on a smile. "It's okay, Elsa. We still have tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and so forth. Just…don't stress too much, alright? I think the stress you've been forming over these few practices have really started to get inside of your head because it's really starting to show. Don't worry, alright? You'll get this down. You know, there's a reason why I haven't cut your solo out of this competition."

"Wait, what?" she blinked, nearly having a heart attack. He considered having her solo cut from the competition? "I-I-I…" She sighed deeply and dropped her gaze. She wouldn't blame him if he did end up cutting her solo out… "I understand if you want to throw my part out," she mumbled softly.

"No, no, Elsa, don't be ridiculous—I'm not going to cut your solo, alright? Although, if worst does come to worst, I may have to. But I don't think I will have to because you have something special, Elsa. Now all you need to do is believe you can do it." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him. He grinned at her before speaking, "Now get out of here. You have school to get ready for."

She slowly nodded her head, pursing her lips, barely able to pull off a smile at him. "Okay, Coach…"

He then straightened his matching jacket to his navy blue sweatpants and waved goodbye to her, saying his wife was expecting him to pick up the kids for school or something. Elsa waved him off before making her way to the exit of the ice rink.

Quickly glancing to the clock, she made no effort whatsoever to rush herself. It was three minutes away from being 7:00 A.M. School started at 7:45, and it took her twenty minutes to walk from here to her house. She didn't take that much time to get ready like some of the girls she knew at her school, and the drive was only about five minutes to her high school, so she had time.

When she finally exited the building all ready to go, she had to roll her eyes at the jet black jeep that was now passing her by. The driver was clearly turning his head to stop and stare at her. And even when he was past her, he was still turning his head to look at her. She grimly grinned and gave him a small wave before he seemed to have hit the gas a little. She heaved out a sigh, barely getting annoyed. This reaction from most drivers was normal. They gave her this look because it was winter, and that she wasn't wearing the warmest clothing. They were looking at her like she was crazy or some freak because the thoughts that were clearly running through their minds were: What the heck is that girl doing out in the cold dressed like that?! Does she want to catch pneumonia or something?!

Yeah…this was exactly what they were thinking because someone even decided they'd have the "curtesy" to shouting it out to her as they drove by. Ugh. It was even some boys from another high school, too, that hollered this out to her. In fact, it was her high school's biggest rival, where these boys came from—and if she remembered correctly, these boys were on the basketball team?—wait, no, it was baseball—or was it football—no, no, it was baseball—not that that meant anything, however—she wasn't too spirited with the whole rivalry thing, so it didn't matter to her as to who they were. She didn't take their words to heart at all because she knew so much better than to allow some jerks to get to her. Especially when these boys meant nothing to her, and she meant nothing to them.

Pursing her lips, she then rolled her eyes as she swiftly unzipped her duffle bag and yanked out her white winter jacket. Quickly zipping her bag back up, she gently set it down as she stuffed her arms down the holes meant for each of her arms. As she readjusted and fitted her jacket, she placed her bag back on her left shoulder. She'd rather not receive any unwanted remarks or comments from random strangers who knew absolutely nothing about her, and that included the stares they would give her as well. Today she just wanted to walk home in peace and comfort. Heaving out a sigh, she began to pull out a few pins that held her white-blonde hair in the braided bun she had it up in for her practice. Soon enough, her hair fell down to the usual French braid she wore and she ran her fingers through her bangs, pushing them back and out of her face like she normally did.

As she headed on her way home, she couldn't help but admire the glittering snow. Despite the fact that the grey clouds covered the sky and sun, it was still fairly bright. The empty sidewalk she walked on was clear of snow, only having a few frozen splotches here and there from the melted snow.

Readjusting the black shoulder strap from her bag, she then noticed a boy off to her left. Her pacing slowed down and she contorted her face as she tried to get a better look.

The boy was merely throwing snowballs at the trunks of trees. As she continued to stare, she eventually came to a complete halt as soon as her realization dawned on her: he was quite a distance from the leafless trees. And he, quite amazingly, was hitting each trunk, straight on, splat right in the center. How in the world…?

Elsa's jaw slightly gaped as she watched the show in awe. Her boots crunched in the crisp snow as she went to hide behind a fairly large tree trunk to get a closer look, and when she gently placed her hands on the cool bark that felt somewhat soggy, she froze. What exactly was she doing? This was completely ridiculous. Was she seriously spying on a boy? She mentally slapped herself. "C'mon, get a grip, Elsa…" She whispered to herself in encouragement for herself to leave. Oh but this guy had fantastic aim!—how could she not watch? She's never seen this before…ever. He clearly knew how to throw…

And that's when she froze.

He knew how to throw…

As those words echoed throughout her head like a ghost haunting, her cyan blue eyes widened. Gasping loudly, she instantly jumped away from her spot and went back on the sidewalk, trying to act inconspicuous as much as she possibly could, and slowly began to walk. This boy wasn't just any ordinary guy, sadly enough. As it turned out, this boy was the infamous baseball pitcher to her school's rivalry high school.

"Of course!" she huffed to herself when she looked at his hair. It was white. How could she not know who this guy was? He was none other than—

"Jack!" a voice suddenly hollered.

Elsa nearly had a heart attack when she suddenly realized a black SUV pulling up to her side of the street, coming towards her from the opposite direction she was heading in. She began to chew on her midtone fuschia pink lips when she saw a bunch of guys that looked awfully, painfully familiar coming out of the black, glistening car when it came to a stop—thank goodness it didn't stop right next to her!—or else she really would've dropped dead. As her look of horror deepened, her walking pace immediately slowed down even more than from the speed she was already going at, which was already abnormally slow enough for her.

She so desperately wanted to run…

And as she took that idea of running away into thought, it didn't sound too bad. And the more and more she thought about it, it began to sound like a brilliant idea—almost even genius!—but that's when she had to stop herself. No! she scolded herself in her mind. She couldn't! How absolutely ridiculous would she look to them from a distance, running? Oh gosh…and she wasn't exactly a grand runner…no! She was a figure skater! There was a big difference!

Plus, these were the same guys that decided to have the "curtesy" to tell her that she would catch pneumonia from the cold and that she was crazy!—and she remembered clearly that the driver was none other than Jack Frost!—the stuck-up moron she just so happened to be staring at earlier. She didn't need any more of their stupid comments to trail after her like a shadow! And not that she really cared what they thought of her…it was just that she didn't want to have to deal with their tyranny for the rest of her life in high school and possibly even college, which hopefully that wouldn't ever become a case. These guys, she knew for a well-known fact that they would do this kind of thing.

"Okay, Elsa, just breathe, relax, and act normal," she pep-talked to herself. She was going to do this. She was going to stay on the sidewalk and walk on it like a normal person. "And don't make any eye contact," she had to add on as she noticed the group of boys all heading to the black car, including Jack. "You've got this…"

Soon enough, the pitch black car pulled off from the side of the road ever so slowly and began to head in her direction.

She began to shake her head. "No…no, no, no, no—okay, just kidding! You don't got this!" And with that said, she quickly jumped off of the sidewalk to her left and hid behind a large tree trunk. She was quite positive they didn't notice her (at least that's what she hoped), for she was somewhat quite a ways away from them, so she only figured they probably didn't notice her. Plus, lucky her, people like her normally don't get spotted too easily. Some certain people you would be able to spot a thousand miles away in a large crowd, whereas for her, well, it was quite different. She could be right next to someone, out in the wide open, and they wouldn't even notice her. It was as easy and simple as that.

Pursing her lips, her eyes began to glance all over the place, and she held her breath, waiting for the sound of the car to pass her by. When what felt like forever had passed her by, but was really only a few seconds, and she was about to come out of her hiding, the rolling tires of a car reached her ears and she froze. While the rolling tires faded in, then faded out, indicating it was gone, she waited a little longer, just in case, before emerging out of her hiding.

By the time she had emerged out and had found that the coast was clear, she could only lean back against the cold tree trunk in relief. Blowing out through her lips, she heaved herself off of the tree and carefully stepped in her sunken footprints back to the sidewalk. The cool ice air didn't do much help for her, for she could feel herself burning up—possibly even start to sweat under her thick jacket. As she began her walk briskly, she couldn't help but glance behind her to see if there was any black SUV parked off to the other side of the road or anywhere near.

Shaking her head, she brought her gaze forward, noticing how close she was coming to the few trees that had snow splattered on their centers. She slowed her walking for a few moments, but then abruptly shook her head and continued on. She's already had enough to think about for the morning at the moment. Right now she just needed to get home—somewhere she felt safe and sound. She didn't want to deal with the excitement that came from having to deal with people from rivalry schools…

If only she had remembered that things rarely ever go the way you want it to, the events that were slowly creeping their way through to happen wouldn't have taken her by surprise.

M'kay, I know, I know. This chapter isn't all that exciting...but I hope it was enjoyable to read to some level. This chapter is barely getting the story officially started - I promise things should start to pick up and get more exciting after this chapter.

And just so you all know, I don't ice skate, however I am doing my homework about figure skating and such, so...the details about ice skating should be mostly, somewhat correct. ;D And even though I'm not pro at ice skating, I do do dance, and that does relate to figure skating in many ways, so there's that... ;P

Anyways, thanks so much for reading! - and expect an update soon! :)