Chapter 11 #2
God, I’m such a fraud, and for an instant I hate it, until he glances over at me after he finally posts it on our joint account and smiles. It’s impossible not to smile back at Brayden when he’s really smiling, when his eyes crinkle at the corners and that one dimple appears in his cheek.
“They all think…” I trail off when he reloads the app and hearts and comments start to appear on his screen.
“That we’re together, yeah,” he finishes for me. “I guess it’s working.”
I press my lips together and stare at the stream of notifications building on his screen. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“And not fake working.”
“Definitely not,” I say, laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Elisa says from one of the tables lining the windows.
It looks like she’s been there for a while, a cup of coffee in front of her, her phone and a small notebook strewn around it.
Some of the other coaches are standing around.
Jimmy and Ben are stretching with Maria and Charlie in the corner.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Katya and Gillian are both at a table a few feet away.
Great, we’re doing this with an audience.
My laughter fades and I try to slide away from Brayden, but his arm tightens around my shoulders.
I have no idea what to say to her. Still.
Because there isn’t anything to say. She knows what she’s looking at, or at least what we want her to see.
I look up at Brayden and he’s already looking down at me.
“Really? My little sister and my ex-boyfriend get together behind my back and they have nothing to say? Fine,” Elisa says, pulling our attention back to her. She’s standing now, looking back and forth between us. “I cannot wait for this to blow up in front of the whole fucking world.”
“Elisa,” Dad’s voice chides from behind us. “That’s enough. I know you’re still upset about what happened in Beijing, but that’s no excuse for being cruel to your sister.”
Elisa’s eyes widen into saucers, her mouth dropping open, completely stunned. I wheel around, pulling away from Brayden, and blink at my dad too. I’ve never heard him use that tone of voice with her before.
Letting out a frustrated shriek from between clenched teeth, Elisa shoulders past, making sure to bump into me as she runs out the front doors.
I follow her, but by the time I make it through the doors, she’s already nearly to the house.
I could chase her, but I still don’t know what I’d say.
What is there to say? The only thing that would make it better is the truth, and I can’t tell her that.
We might not be super close, but we are sisters, and I hate that I hurt her, especially when, like my dad oh-so-sensitively pointed out, she’s already hurting.
I can’t make it right, though. There’s nothing I can do right now, maybe nothing I can do ever. This is on me; it’s what I decided to do and now I have to live with it.
· · ·
There’s something familiar about the two suitcases laid across my bed. A few weeks ago, I sat in Elisa’s room helping her pack her bags for the Olympic Games. Now she’s home and I’m in my room, staring at two empty suitcases, my closet door open, and not filling them.
It’s not that I don’t want to pack or don’t know what to pack; that’s easy enough.
I’ve been packing for my competitions since I was eight.
No, it’s that packing for this competition feels different.
We’re headed to our last junior competition ever, the last time we’ll skate out on the ice with that safety net.
That’s what it is, after all. Once you’re not a junior, no one cares how old you are or if you’ve been there before or what your last name is.
You go out onto the ice against the best in the world and you see whether or not you measure up, and if you don’t, you don’t.
Simple as that. Elisa learned that the hard way.
Elisa, who, apparently, has decided she doesn’t want to talk to me after all and has been pointedly ignoring me since her little outburst at the rink.
I square my shoulders against it, even though there isn’t anyone here to see it.
With a deep breath, I dive in, pulling workout clothes from my dresser drawers and rolling them into neat rows inside the first suitcase.
Shoes, boots, street clothes I might get at least some use out of if we have an off day to explore after the competition go in next.
I glance at my costumes hanging on the knob of my closet door.
We sent them to be cleaned and checked over after Nationals.
I’m supposed to try them on before carefully putting them back into their garment bags, where they’ll stay until I open them up again in France.
I should probably do that now. If there are any issues, we’ll still have time to get them fixed before we leave.
The first costume is for “Vienna.” We’re supposed to be skating as a young couple caught up in the world’s expectations, but letting our love slow everything down and keep us grounded against burning out too early, like the vibes in the song.
Living life and not just existing. We brought that to our costume designer, and we decided we should look like a couple going out on a date.
Simple, maybe, but I love the dress even more for its simplicity.
It doesn’t look like a typical ice dance costume.
It almost looks like something you’d wear normally.
A deep cream color, it has long lace sleeves and is designed to sit off my shoulders leading into a bodice of the same color in a very fine silky material.
Sliding it on, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt prettier than when I’m wearing this costume.
I check myself in the mirror, front and back, to make sure there are no stray threads or buttons. It all looks good, though. I look good.
“I love that costume.”
“Me too,” I say, catching Riley’s eyes in the mirror as she peeks her head in through the bedroom door. I wave her in.
“Sorry, I texted you, but…” She trails off, stepping fully into the room and shutting the door behind her.
“I shut off my phone. After Brayden posted that last pic, it got a little bit insane.”
“And speaking of Brayden…” she says, sitting down on my bed. “I want details.”
I wave a hand in the air, turning to her. “You know, we sort of talked about it the other night and it felt like the right thing.”
Riley’s eyes sparkle playfully. “I don’t want to hear about the talking part.”
“Not much else to tell.” And that’s the truth, even though she shoots me a totally incredulous look. “Did you talk to Freddie?” I ask, feeling like I already know the answer.
“No, totally chickened out. I just…sometimes I think he really likes me, he’s so sweet and fun to be around, but he’s like that around everyone, so I don’t know if I’m reading into it too much. What do you think?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m terrible with this stuff. I’m…with a guy and now my sister is furious. And Brayden’s not exactly known for long-term commitment, you know? I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“So we’re both completely screwed is what you’re saying?” She falls back onto my bed with a sigh.
“Completely.”