Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Kirby set her phone up to record her, Apollo, and Lindsey to see who could do the most pullups. She and Lindsey were doing theirs with a fifty-pound weight tied to their waists, and she would post the video later that day.
Kirby knew where her bread was buttered. It wasn’t in gold medals. It wasn’t with US Ski and Snowboard or whatever narrative they had wanted to drum up about her and Mara May.
To them, Kirby was the villain. The class clown who had unexpectedly squeaked out a gold four years ago in the biggest upset in years.
She didn’t train as hard as Mara. She didn’t take herself, or skiing, as seriously. She lived a very fulfilling life outside of skiing. She didn’t keep her mouth—or legs—shut. Or her queerness quiet. Or her opinions to herself.
And worst of all, she kept baiting Mara into lowering herself to Kirby’s level.
But it felt pretty nice down at Kirby’s level.
“Jesus, Kirby, why did you insist on filming this?” Apollo gritted out as they all pulled themselves up in unison, and Kirby snapped back into the moment. She had to stop thinking about Mara freaking May.
Apollo was going to drop first, which made every competitive bone in Kirby’s body sing.
He let go of the bar and landed on his feet.
Lindsey laughed and did one more rep before dropping as well.
Kirby could practically see the comment section in her head as she did another rep for good measure before lowering herself carefully to the ground.
Apollo helped her down and disconnected the weight from around her waist.
She leaned toward the camera, grinned, and made a funny face with her tongue sticking out. She would cut the video there.
She tried to make a video or a post every day to stay in the headlines and to keep the algorithms working for her. She didn’t enjoy the social media aspect as much as being on television shows, but she did it for the money.
“I actually need to work out now,” Lindsey said. It had been nice of her to do a video for Kirby. Lindsey was notoriously private. Her socials weren’t even public.
“Sure, sure.” Kirby gave her a hug. “Thanks for humoring me.”
Lindsey smiled at Apollo, and he watched her walk away.
They were the only three in the weight room, which was odd.
It was rare to get alone time. Kirby had been to the training center in Oberhof a million times since it was one of the US team’s main European training hubs.
It was just as much her home as anywhere else, which was to say, it meant nothing to her.
Apollo threw his arm over her shoulder. His tatted arm was heavy, and his skin stuck to hers. She was in shorts and a sports bra. They were both glistening from their warm-up run.
Tattoos. Bare skin. Sweat. Thirst for attention.
Hello to her bread and butter.
“All right, what’s wrong with you?” Apollo asked.
“What? Nothing.”
“Seriously, KB? You’ve been weird since you got back from LA. You don’t usually ghost me.”
She gritted her teeth. She hadn’t told him about the interview.
Or about all the weirdness with Mara. That felt like a special little secret.
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit, baby. I saw you doing that breathing thing at breakfast, so I know you—”
“Don’t call me that.” She shoved him away playfully, even though she wasn’t feeling playful at all. They fucked occasionally, but she was no one’s baby. And she definitely didn’t want to talk about “that breathing thing.”
“I heard a rumor,” Apollo said. He glanced over at Lindsey, who had her back to them.
“About what?” Rumors, gossip, drama. Typical for cross-country skiing.
“That you fucked up an interview, and everyone’s pissed at you.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face. “No one should be pissed at me but Mara.”
Kirby and her agent had debriefed yesterday, and her agency was smoothing things over with everyone who needed to be smoothed.
“What did you do?” Apollo whispered. He didn’t sound judgy, bless him. Just concerned for her.
“The usual. Opened my mouth and said the wrong things. But Mara followed suit, which was”—amazing, wonderful, fun—“maybe less than ideal. Chandler Wendleton could make my life harder if he wanted.”
She squirted water into her mouth before jumping up to do another round of pull-ups. Apollo leaned against a pole and watched. There was no one more allergic to conditioning than Apollo.
Once she dropped, he said, “Who cares what Chandler Wendleton has to say? I don’t even think US Ski and Snowboard cares. And they’re not who matters anyway. Your teammates matter. Your coaches.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope I haven’t fucked up my place with my teammates and coaches then.”
“You prove you deserve your spot every time you ski, KB. The other stuff is just noise.”
That was true but didn’t feel like it was. Some people didn’t love that she made headlines and money for things other than skiing.
“You’re my family,” Apollo continued. “Nothing will ever change that. Even if you stopped skiing tomorrow. And Lindsey loves you. She let you win the pullup competition.”
“Hey!”
“Brandilyn and Jordan would walk across hot coals for you. Coach Wu would burn the world down to help you.”
Kirby shook her head. She hoped that was true. The fear it wasn’t true, or wouldn’t be one day—one day in the future when she said the wrong thing or lost the wrong race or let her fame-chasing go too far—was overwhelming.
Apollo grabbed her hand and squeezed. He was her family.
It wasn’t conditional. She had learned to trust that after years and years.
He’d taken her home at Thanksgiving once when they were nineteen and she’d had literally nowhere else to go, and the rest was history.
Found family had supported her much more than biological ever had, but it was hard to believe they would always be there for her.
Even if she wasn’t on TV. Even if she wasn’t one of the best skiers in the world.
Tears bubbled up in her throat. She pushed them down and breathed through it.
She wasn’t usually such an easy mark, but her emotions were all right at the surface. It felt like at any moment her brain might deceive her again, push her into another anxiety attack, and she wouldn’t be prepared.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Kirby said. She gave Apollo a side hug, and he kissed the top of her head, holding her close for an extra minute.
The door to the gym opened, and a physio came in. “KB? Coach Wu wants a quick chat.”
“Uh-oh,” Apollo sang under his breath. “Remember what I said. You belong. Even if you piss people off.”
“If you say so.” Kirby followed the physio to a hallway of office suites. She was sure she was about to get a talking to. She’d been waiting for it all morning, but she’d hoped it would be from Chandler Wendleton, or the head coach, Coach Redman. Not Coach Wu.
She cared what Coach Wu thought of her. It mattered.
As she reached the door, Mara came out. They both pulled up before running into each other.
Mara was wearing pink, and her ponytail fell in a perfect waterfall of curls. Her Disney looks tricked people. They tricked the media and coaches and fans into thinking she was sweet. That she was the heroine of cross-country skiing.
It was all an illusion. A lie.
“So nice to see you, Mara,” Kirby said.
Mara’s eyes flashed, and a riptide of adrenaline hit Kirby full force. She braced for Mara’s words. She couldn’t wait to see what Mara did. What Mara said. How she reacted to something as simple as a greeting.
“Enough,” Coach Wu said from the doorway, her voice wry. Coach Wu enjoyed Kirby more than most people, but there were limits. “Come in here, KB.”
Kirby slipped by Mara and into the makeshift office. Coach Karlsson was also there, but he didn’t glance up from his laptop as Kirby sat down. He had headphones on.
“You need to focus the fuck up, Kirby,” Coach Wu said. No lead up or pleasantries.
Heat rushed over Kirby’s face. “I will.”
“Look, I get it.” Kirby must have made a face at that because Coach Wu said, “No, really. I do. You have every right to push against anyone’s effort to make you palatable.
I like that you do. I want you to have that chip on your shoulder.
I want you to race angry. But no one should matter to you but you.
Focus on your own training.” Coach Wu tapped her own temple. “Get yourself together in here.”
“I am.”
Coach Wu shook her head like she knew that was a big fat lie.
“Stop letting her distract you,” Coach Wu said, dropping her voice low.
Kirby sighed. “She’s not.”
“We both know that’s not true. You don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Kirby said, mimicking in the most respectful tone she could. “Did Mara get this same speech?” She looked at Coach Karlsson, but he either couldn’t hear her with his headphones on or was pretending not to.
“Mara doesn’t need anyone to tell her when she’s fucking up. She does that just fine on her own.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll be separated for the pre-Olympics press conference. They don’t want to risk a repeat.”
Kirby shouldn’t have felt disappointed about that, but she did. She loved sparring with Mara. And the press conference before the Beijing Olympics had changed her life.
“That means we’ll do press day individually?” Kirby asked.
“Mara will do hers individually. You’ll do yours with the rest of the team.”
So Mara was getting pulled out for special treatment. Classic.
Coach Wu leaned back in her desk chair and flipped a page in her notebook. “Now, let’s talk about the team sprint. You’ll be racing with Brandilyn and—”
“Wait, that’s it?”
Coach Wu studied Kirby, and Kirby felt so seen. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
“You and Mara are big girls. You both have agents who can help you determine media strategies. I don’t give a shit about that as long as your head and body are where they need to be when you put your skis on. Understand?”
“Yeah. Hey, Coach?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Win.”