Chapter 11 Stefan
Stefan
Iam as ready as it's possible to be. With one glaring exception, I've spent every minute this morning doing things the way I'm supposed to.
My father has joined me when he's supposed to.
He's left when he's supposed to. I'm even wearing my lucky socks.
Which I don't wear that often anymore because it's a stupid superstition, but today I'll take any extra bit of luck I can get my hands on.
The glaring exception is, of course, Evan. Who was there when I woke up, and who again brought breakfast up while I meditated. We ate together in silence, but we did eat together.
I did not tell Dad.
I've warmed up, styled my hair. Put on my eyeliner.
I'm in costume. A silver and black monstrosity that someone, somewhere decided would be amazing.
My choreographer, my costume designer, maybe my mom, possibly all three.
I picked the music. They picked the costume.
I look like a villain, which is exactly the way I am supposed to look.
I am ready.
I make my way to the rink. Headphones on, blocking out every noise that isn't my music.
I will not be distracted at this late date.
Dad watches me put my skates on silently.
He knows the routine. And when we're called to the rink for the group warm-up, he signals, and I take the headphones off, handing them over. Then my jacket, phone in the pocket.
After a nod, my blade protectors are off and have been handed over as well. And then I'm on the ice. And oh, it's beautiful. The white ice, the spotlights, the crowd screaming.
After a morning spent doing things exactly right, it's not hard to turn myself on.
To wave and smile at the audience when my name is called.
To give them a quick quad toe and let myself revel in the screams and cheers.
A triple triple combination, to keep myself loose.
I'm half tempted to throw in something tricky just for fun, but no, I'll save that for the program.
I won't have the luxury of seeing what Max does before me today. Maybe it’s for the best.
But do I go all in or play it safe? I'm starting 10.
43 points behind. Any other year, that wouldn't be close to insurmountable, but against Max, I don't know.
I've been working on this program all season, and I've never shown it to its full potential in competition.
I've been waiting for Worlds, and here I am, at Worlds. And I'm second-guessing myself.
Which isn't like me. I have to let go. If I fuck up and fall, Jan's still in position to medal, and there shouldn't be any problem with our places combining above thirteen. No matter what everybody tells me, the weight of my country is not on my shoulders alone.
I'll play it by ear, like I normally do. See how my legs feel when the moment comes. I don't need to over think this.
The warm-up finishes, and for the first time in years, I don't leave the ice. I don't have to worry about cooling down between warm-up and program. This is a bonus, no matter that my mind keeps yelling that I should be following the others off the ice. Not today.
And hey, I can’t remember the last time the ice has been this clean for my free skate. There are advantages to starting in sixth.
I've got this. I am ready.
I will perform the most brilliant free skate anyone has ever seen. I will do exactly what everyone expects me to do.
And then some.
A last skate around the rink. And then I'm in my starting position. Arms up, legs crossed. Ready.
The music swells and thoughts disappear. The lights, the audience, the judges all go away. I am where I belong.
I open with my quad Lutz to make sure everything is working as intended. A flawless landing, and I’m off to the races. The quad axle that made me a folk hero. Perfect.
And now it's the moment of truth. I shove my pick into the ice and lift into the air, my rotation starting so quickly the cameras will struggle to catch it. Once, twice, three times, four. Something's off, but I keep pushing. I will manage this. One more time around.
The excited screaming starts before I hit the ground. But I am off center, just off my rocker. The audience is cheering so loudly I can't hear myself think, but I'm wobbling, fighting with everything I can to stay on my foot. I will not fucking fall.
I fight and I fight, but I’m overbalancing, and my hand touches the ground, taking my weight for a moment. Fuck. Why does my right rocker hate me so much this week?
But I'm up again in an instant and skating. I didn't win the few extra points for a successful quintuple toeloop, but I can still hope I didn't lose too many overall either. Dad and I have mathed this to death, and it’s a risk. The base value isn’t high enough that, if I make any mistakes, I’ll gain over doing what I normally do.
But I also shouldn’t lose too many, since I didn't fall.
It should be ok, as long as I can stay up for the rest of my program and deliver on everything else.
But damn it, I wanted to land it clean. I wanted to come out the gate and show it off. To have the perfect first quint in competition. And that will never be an option now. It'll always be the first attempted quint in competition. I can't dwell on it though, not if I want to finish this out right.
The audience is a dazzling roar around me as I spin and spin.
Let myself flow back into the music I can barely hear over the screaming.
I don't take it easy afterward, but I don't push as hard as I could. Instead of six quads and a quint, I end up with five quads and an attempted quint. One very good triple-triple combination, when I don’t quite feel up to the planned element. It's enough. I hope.
Even though I halfway fell, the audience is breathless with excitement as I take my bows.
They've all but cheered themselves hoarse, and I smile at them in response.
Trying to enjoy the moment. It wasn't the flawless skate I'd had planned.
But it wasn't bad. It might still be enough to win me Worlds.
And I'm still the first man to attempt a quint in competition.
I think I hit the full rotation on it. I can't be certain until the judges come up with their final score, but I should receive the base value for quintuple toe loop, even if I lose half of it on GOE.
Which I shouldn't. It was only one hand down.
Twenty to thirty percent. Unless they come up with something else.
Decide the hand down was too weight-bearing.
But it's a win. No matter what, it's a win.
Which is exactly what my father tells me when I get off the ice.
He's not angry today, not even a little.
I appreciate that. It could have gone the other way.
He could have been irritated I didn't do it perfectly.
But he knows that I just made history. And if that program isn't enough to medal, then the other skaters are welcome to it. They’ll deserve it.
I catch a glimpse of Evan skating out of the corner of my eye and turn toward him.
He's circling the rink, waiting for my scores and his name to be called.
He's not looking my way, but even lazily pushing himself around, he's as graceful as ever.
If anyone should be the one to beat me, it's that man right there.
But due to the weight put on the technical elements, he won't be able to.
It's not right. He is such a better skater than I am.
I'm a one-trick pony. He's grace personified.
Dad's holding my hand on one side, one of the national coaches on the other as we wait for my scores. I don't bother to look over and ascertain who the second coach is. I don't care. All I care about is the scoreboard.
It's taking for-fucking-ever. I'm ready to scream.
I know what my point value should be. But I don't know what it will be.
This is uncharted territory. All of us want to find out how they're going to react.
How much they're willing to punish me for trying and failing.
They've made it clear over the years that this isn't something they really want.
But if I'd pulled it off successfully, they would have been the first to congratulate me.
The most excited cheerleaders because the publicity would have been insane.
So what happens now that I didn't? Now that every clip showing my attempt is going to show me touching the ice, hard, at the end. I didn’t fall all the way, and was clearly uninjured, but how's it going to look to them?
How many voices are going to speak out and say I shouldn't have tried it, that it's too dangerous?
These are the conversations I'm sure they're having with themselves right now. The reason they're taking so long.
There shouldn't be any question about the GOE deduction.
Not really. But when the question is as much politics as skating, they might decide it was a fall.
Argue I shifted too much weight onto that hand.
I've seen them punish people with scores in the past. The chance that it could go either way makes all the difference.
Fuck, half of them probably didn't even see the second half of my program. Maybe that's part of the problem. They're going over every element to give it the score they missed the first time, too caught up in shock and decision paralysis.
Poor Evan is still circling the rink. Still waiting.
A few years ago, they would have gone ahead with his performance and announced my score after his skate, but now they give it time.
It's a good thing, I think, not detracting from the skater who's performing.
But how often does someone have to wait this long before they can start?