Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Kirby made her way to the exchange zone where the press was waiting after the sprint final. She was buzzing.
There was an Olympic doping officer following her, waiting to collect a drug testing sample. That was a fun little novelty she’d forgotten about since her medals in Beijing. They would take a sample as soon as she made it through the exchange zone and back inside the Tesero facility.
She walked down the line of press. In Beijing, there had been a complicated dance of microphones, masking, and social distancing because of Covid. But now it was a free-for-all.
“Kirby Bonham! Kirby Bonham!” reporters yelled to get her attention.
She spotted a journalist named Henrik Jensen. “Hi, Henrik.”
He was a reporter for a popular online winter sports magazine. She’d done an interview with him once in Park City.
“Congratulations,” he said. “How do you feel about the results of the sprint?”
“Great! After almost missing out on the final heat altogether, I couldn’t be happier about a bronze medal. I haven’t hit the podium in that event in a few years, so it’s very exciting.”
“Your teammates were there cheering you on after your race. It seems like there is a lot of camaraderie in this group of skiers,” Henrik said.
It was a leading comment. Everyone knew the team got along, but not her and Mara. He was clearly guiding her in that direction.
But she didn’t mind being led occasionally.
“Not all of my teammates, but most of them, yes,” Kirby said with a smile. Mara had been absent. Which Kirby had expected, but it still stung. “It’s a special team. Lots of young and hungry skiers.”
Jordan and Brandilyn were so talented, and they would only get better.
As long as Brandilyn’s injury wasn’t career ending, but Kirby wasn’t letting her mind go there.
The men’s team had a ton of rookies and first-time Olympians too.
Skiers like her, Lindsey, Apollo, and Mara were the millennials whose days were numbered.
Which was why Kirby had worked so hard at the Hollywood stuff. She wasn’t going to be able to ski competitively forever.
“This is the first time in the Olympics you haven’t raced the sprint against Mara May. Did you miss competing against her?”
“Of course. Mara is the best, and it’s a lot more fun defeating the best. I would know. But I’ll get my chance soon. I’ll get her in the fifty kilometer.”
There. That had been nice. And also not so nice.
Maybe it would send Mara running back to Kirby in a fit. A girl could dream.
She hadn’t spoken to Mara since the night after the skiathlon. Kirby wasn’t avoiding her, but she wasn’t seeking her out either. And Mara seemed to be on the same page.
Mara hadn’t even been there to watch the finals.
“There are rumors there has been conflict between you during training,” Henrik Jensen said.
“Oh? Me and conflict? Never!” Kirby said, putting her hand to her chest. She assumed teasers of their Janette Collins interview were starting to air.
Not that that was the only proof of their animosity.
The proof was prolific at this point. Their condom unboxing video had exploded online.
Mara’s sexual repression had read as seething dislike on camera.
“I’m a little sweetie. I would never cause conflict. ”
Henrik smiled, but she could tell he wasn’t going to be satisfied with a little sarcasm.
“You’re known for making tactical, sharp, strategic moves. You’re not conservative.”
“No. I’m not. In any arena of my life.”
“But Mara is a conservative skier. She doesn’t take strategic risks like you.”
Kirby was aggravated he kept returning to that well. She’d won a medal. Not Mara. And anyway, Mara didn’t often need to take risks. She made the podium just fine without doing so.
“Mara doesn’t matter. I’m racing the relay in four days. The team sprint in six. She’s opted out of competing with me in either, which was the right thing for her. I’m putting my focus toward those races. I’ll take care of Mara after that.”
Kirby moved on, answering questions from other reporters. Mostly innocuous, repetitive ones about preparing for future races. Henrik’s were the only spicy questions.
Everything went fast after that. Kirby gave her urine sample. Then it was time to celebrate.
In their designated changing area, Apollo picked her up and swung her around. Lindsey and a few other athletes were jumping around and cheering, and it was a big pit of hugs and excitement.
Apollo was beaming and acting as excited as if he’d won a gold medal. He’d unexpectedly made the final, which was thrilling.
And that was the cool thing about their sport. You raced against your competitors, but it was also an individual challenge. Every skier had their own personal goals. Their own demons to overcome.
Once the celebration settled, Lindsey gave Kirby a side hug.
“No Mara?” Kirby asked, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Mara didn’t do the team shit and celebrations.
“She bailed in the middle of the semifinals.”
“Bummer.” Kirby put a fake smile on. Mara had a regimented schedule. Watching your secret booty call win a bronze medal clearly did not fit in between light cardio, lunch, weight training, and yoga.
“She just doesn’t like sharing the podium attention.”
“Oh, I don’t think…” Kirby genuinely hoped Mara would be happy for her, but she knew she shouldn’t come to Mara’s aid. It would be too revealing. Too strange. “She was happy for you to win your silver. Disappointed about falling, but happy for you.”
Lindsey shrugged. “Mara’s a mystery. It’s almost time for the medal ceremony. You need to get in your podium outfit.”
It was the third time Kirby had made an Olympic podium.
If someone had asked seventeen-year-old Kirby what her life would look like as an adult, she would have said she would be working somewhere in her hometown.
The tag agency or the diner or maybe, if she was lucky, the school.
She would still be stuck in her dysfunctional and bigoted family’s orbit.
She would never have imagined she would be stepping up onto the Olympic podium with a bronze around her neck, waving a bouquet of flowers, and trying not to cry.