I Was a Teenage Popsicle by Bev Katz Rosenbaum

Author:Bev Katz Rosenbaum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

16

Unable to come up with any more brilliant ideas to save the center (not that going to talk to Jones was a brilliant idea, exactly), I decide to visit a sports psychologist about the hoverblading thing.

I can hear you laughing.

Trust me when I tell you this is no joke. I’m going to get the hang of this if it kills me.

And it probably will.

And this time I’ll be dead for good, cuz there ain’t no way Sunny’s gonna freeze me.

Back to the sports psychologist. I remember a guy from VBA who was a couple years ahead of me in school who competed at a really high level and was always raving about his. (If I’d lived and gone on to compete at that level—as if!—I’d have used one, too.)

When I actually remember the guy’s name (Dr. Lawrence Tanz), I look him up—weird, he’s moved to Cactus Hill—and make an appointment.

His office is in (what else) a nearby strip mall. He sure looks the part, I think as he ushers me into his office. Very motivational speakerish. Tanned, white teeth, et cetera.

“So, Floe,” he says, reading the sheet I’ve filled out, most of which remains blank because I can’t very well apprise him of my true medical history.

His brow wrinkles when he notices. “I guess you don’t remember when you contracted all these childhood diseases. We’ll have you take this home so someone else can fill it out.”

No one else at my house is gonna remember, either, I think, but don’t say.

Putting the paper aside, Dr. Tanz turns his thousand-watt smile on me and says, “What can I do for you today, Floe?”

“Hoverblading,” I say. “I can’t seem to get the hang of it.”

He leans back in his chair. “That’s not exactly uncommon.”

“Well, the thing is, I used to be a great inline skater—even competed at a low level—so I don’t get why I’m having such a problem.”

He looks at me. “What’s odd is that someone your age was even involved in inline skating. It was already sort of passé when you grew up. I guess your parents were really into it.”

“Uh, yeah,” is all I say.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on his desk, steepling his fingers. “How did it make you feel when your friends were out hoverblading and you were made to inline skate?”

Oh, jeez. I can’t tell him he’s on the completely wrong track, and now we’re going to have to go through some Freudian baloney, have me work through some trauma that never happened.

He leans back again. “Hard to put it into words, isn’t it? Maybe you can think about it for next time. Your anger and resentment is obviously blocking you from putting your all into learning how to hoverblade.”

Wrong again, I think.

“Fortunately, you won’t have to wait until you’ve worked through those feelings of shame and embarrassment to improve your hoverblading technique.”

Thank God.

“Even people who haven’t experienced what you have develop blockages. There are mental exercises that can help.”

Yes! That’s what I’m talkin’

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