Chapter 22 #3
“Yeah,” Tora nodded, “we know. We were selected a while ago.”
“Oh…”
Of course.
“Well… I hope you win your internal qualifiers anyway,” Tora said confidently. “And go to the Olympics… even with all of this.”
“Yeah…” Alisa closed her eyes for a second, then got up to pour the tea. The kettle clicked softly, the only sound in the kitchen.
But when she came back—
Silence.
It was too quiet.
The screen was frozen. The call had dropped, there was no signal again.
“Tora…”
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
Alisa sat back down anyway, wrapping her hands around the warm cup, and began to eat her dinner slowly in silence.
Tonight, that was all she wanted.
* * *
A couple of weeks later, the internal Olympic selection competition arrived, and at that moment Alisa was, objectively speaking, somewhere at the bottom of the singles ranking, after all, she had only performed internationally as a single skater once, in Beijing, for those additional quotas…
but she was still in the running. There was still a chance.
And that “chance” was exactly what made everything worse.
Alisa was worried, really worried.
She woke up that morning already anxious, her sleep broken and shallow, constantly interrupted by flashes of knee pain that dragged her out of rest again and again—how completely fucked up was that?
—and she could already tell it would affect her performance today, her head felt heavy, foggy, like she was thinking under the water.
She clenched her teeth against another pulse of pain and, for a second, genuinely considered throwing her phone against the wall. She didn’t want to go anywhere today. At all.
The apartment was freezing. Cold in that damp, unpleasant way that crept under the skin. Alisa curled tighter under the blanket, pulling it up to her chin as her whole body shivered, the alarm screaming at her from somewhere nearby, 6 a.m.
She lay there for a moment, staring into nothing, debating something stupid and simple: syrniki from the fridge… or just a banana on the way, quick and effortless?
The syrniki won.
With an irritated growl, she threw the blanket off, turned off the alarm, and forced herself out of bed, immediately slipping her feet into oversized dragon slippers. She grabbed a warm sweatshirt that nearly reached her knees and dragged herself into the kitchen, still half-asleep.
Her tablet was, as always, waiting on the kitchen table, it was her usual place for training replays, random shows, anything to fill the silence. She tapped it on, and when she saw there was internet connection, she perked up instantly, almost too quickly, opening her messages.
Nothing from Tora.
Should I text her?
Will she even answer?
Is she asleep… or already on her way to the rink?
Alisa grabbed her phone anyway. While the kettle heated and the syrniki slowly warmed in the microwave, she typed:
Alisa: Hi Tora, i miss you… today we have internal qualifiers for the olympics, they’ll decide who goes from our national team… i don’t know what my chances are, but i need to land everything. My knees are still being assholes, i’m basically at war with my own body.
No reply. Probably training already or on the way.
Alisa stared at the “delivered” status for a second, then sighed, well, at least it went through, and switched on a lecture about black holes.
Lately, she had been strangely obsessed with space even more than usual. Any free moment, she filled with lectures, videos, anything. It calmed her in a way nothing else did. Something about the scale of it all… how enormous the universe was, how insignificant she was in comparison.
The world didn’t revolve around her.
It revolved around black holes, galaxies, things that swallowed entire stars without noticing.
Somehow, that thought made everything quieter.
Her syrniki were ready, the tea poured, and she ate slowly, watching the lecture, letting the voice wash over her thoughts, until her phone buzzed.
Tora.
Tora: Sorry, i was on my way to the arena. Good luck today, babe, you can do anything! If there’s connection tonight, call me. Love you, miss you.
Alisa smiled faintly, something soft finally breaking through the tension.
Alisa: I hope so… Thank you. I love you too.
Alisa answered Tora quickly and smiled, the day got a little better.
Hermann was about to pick her up again that morning since they had practice in the neighboring hall today, and the internal competition was being held in the small arena.
He had promised her a few days ago that when she performed, he’d come watch and cheer for her, shout when necessary, whistle, clap, whatever, basically make some noise like it actually mattered.
And Alisa appreciated that more than she said out loud.
She had always loved when her grandmother sat in the stands and cheered for her during competitions… those memories were warm to her heart, her grandmother had been there for all the important moments, like some quiet constant in a life that otherwise kept shifting under her feet.
Outside, it was cold again and it was raining.
Endless, annoying rain.
Alisa stood by the window for a moment, finishing her breakfast and staring at the cathedral across the street, gray against the gray sky, when her phone buzzed, it was Hermann.
“Are you coming out?”
“Yeah, give me a sec.”
She shoved a pair of fresh socks into her bag, threw on yesterday’s tracksuit without even thinking about it, and rushed out of the apartment, running straight to the car waiting near the entrance.
“Hi,” she said, slipping into the passenger seat.
“Morning,” Hermann nodded.
In the car, Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit was blasting, and Alisa, catching the lyrics, just huffed out a bitter half-laugh.
“Fuck… yeah, that’s exactly my mood today. I want to kill…” she muttered, rolling her eyes and clenching her jaw so hard it hurt.
“Worried about the qualifiers?” Hermann glanced at her.
“Very.”
“I’ve only seen part of your choreography,” he shrugged, “but it already looks Olympic-level to me.”
“Did you really watch mine?” she shot back. “I thought you were busy staring at that cherry-colored girl.”
Hermann chuckled. “Well, she’s got a good choreography too. But you? You can fight for first place today. Where’s your competitive spirit?”
“Died back in March… when—”
She cut herself off abruptly. The memory hit too fast, that ISU competition, the pair program, Lev’s injury, the way everything had collapsed in a second while she somehow walked away from it.
Hermann didn’t push it. He just shrugged slightly, and Alisa shook her head, brushing it off like she always did.
She pressed her lips together, then said what had been sitting in her chest all morning.
“I’m scared I won’t land everything. That I’ll mess up the elements, and they just… won’t pick me. There are skaters from Moscow here too, a lot of strong ones, higher rankings than mine…”
“Rankings are nice,” Hermann said calmly, “but they’re not everything. You’re like a hidden diamond, you know? Our secret weapon. We’ll send you to the 2026 Olympics and shock everyone.”
Alisa let out a short laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” The sarcasm hung thick in the air, but it wasn’t entirely empty.
The song kept playing, looping into her head, feeding something restless and sharp inside her, well, it was anger, mostly, directed at herself.
She reached into the glove compartment, pulled out the anesthetic gel, and lifted her leggings to smear it over her knees again.
“Don’t overdo it,” Hermann said quietly with concern. He cared, that was obvious.
But pain… pain was part of the job, always had been.
Alisa had learned to exist inside it, like it was just another layer of reality, but sometimes it got too loud, too unbearable, and then came the pills, the gels, anything that could dull the edge enough to keep moving.
She only hoped that if she did make it to the Olympics, she’d have time to come off all of it… because doping checks, scandals, she remembered too well how athletes from Russia had been torn apart for less.
The gel spread cold across her skin, and she hissed softly at the sensation.
“Turn on the heat, please… I’m freezing.”
“Of course, baby. Anything for you.”
Hermann cranked up the heating, the seats warming under her almost immediately.
Outside, the rain intensified, drumming wildly against the windshield, syncing strangely with the music, until it turned into a full downpour and the road ahead became barely visible through the blur of water.
Alisa frowned slightly, watching it.
They were going to be late for warm-up.
Damn it.
* * *
They arrived on time, but too late for the normal warm-up, and Alisa was already behind schedule.
She rushed to the locker room, dropped her bag with her skates and other things, and hurried to the warm-up room, where everyone was already jumping over special aerobics boards they usually used for warm-ups and jump exercises.
Alisa stood off in a corner and began warming up on her own, at her own pace, then slowly joined the group exercises, catching up on the drills everyone else had already finished.
Later than the others, she finally left the training room and returned to the locker room, where everyone was already getting ready, and the air was thick with the smell of hairspray, the smell Alisa had always associated with competitions.
She liked tight buns for performances, like most skaters did, because then her hair wouldn’t get in the way while skating.
She changed into her costume and started brushing her hair when she suddenly felt someone hug her from behind, but she already recognized that sweet, cool perfume instantly.
Alisa turned around and hugged Anfisa back.
“Ready to shine today?” Anfisa asked with a satisfied smile, clearly at peace with herself, unlike Alisa, who felt like she’d woken up full of hatred toward the entire world, as if she had started the day on the wrong foot.
Well, maybe she had.