CHAPTER 18
Ana
IF ONLY I could avoid Violet until the Games, but typically she’s everywhere.
Although, other than the locker run-in a few weeks ago, our paths have barely crossed. She and Ethan must be skating in the afternoon, while Troy and I have been starting our sessions as soon as opening hours begin.
I’ve been practicing my skating in the evening since our ice dance rehearsals, unfortunately haven’t reached the ice yet, and there’s no time to fall behind.
I assume Troy’s doing the same, even though I don’t ask.
Discussing anything with him, especially outside of our practices, isn’t a favorable notion.
Today, however, I catch the middle of Violet and Ethan’s practice. Sitting on the far end of the bleachers in my skating gear, I watch them skate.
I wouldn’t consider Ethan a close friend, by any means, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a considerable weight of pain now added to my shoulders by his betrayal.
Being partners for ten years, I assumed, meant a lot.
Or at least something. Another moment, where I’m a disposable object, nothing more than entertainment for those in passing.
As much as I hate to admit, Violet’s good.
Incredible, actually.
Perfect frame, clean spins, tight axels. She’s the ideal skater on paper. It’s clear she’s a gold medalist. Even clearer why she won with Troy. Why I lost.
Where I went wrong, I don’t remember. But, I had it once. Then lost it.
Ethan’s already lifting Violet in the air, months progress ahead of my new pair and me. And the chemistry’s there. Not that I’m jealous by it, I never felt anything romantic toward Ethan, our connection being just decent enough to place with our routines.
Violet completes a final spin, while my ex-pair cheers her on. Regret rumbles my stomach, realizing this could be Troy and me if we could tolerate each other.
You can’t mess up again, I remind myself.
By the time the meltdown unfolds in my mind, their practice comes to an end.
While Violet shuffles through her bag on the farther end of the bleachers, my betrayer approaches the exit.
He tries to avoid me, but I make a point of looking at him, wondering if there’s a trace of remorse behind his eyes. When he spots me, all I see is hesitation, accompanied by a forced grin.
“Hey,” Ethan says.
“Hi.” I don’t bother exchanging a smile of my own. “You guys skate well together.”
“Ana,” he sighs, “it just happened.”
“Nothing just happens.” This time, my lips curve to their own accord, but from hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he struggles, biting on his lip. “I gotta go.”
His eyes flicker away from me as I watch the man who I spent nearly half my life training with leave the rink.
The one who stood beside me, while I celebrated the most momentous day of my entire life.
At 15, we stood, proud on that Podium in PyeongChang, gold dangling from our necks, a symbol of everything we worked night and day, years, for.
All to end with a cheap goodbye, consolation prize, and mystery I still can’t solve.
Coward.
_________
The peaceful no-contact streak ends while I’m lacing up my skates, when my ears detect her voice. “How’s practice coming along with your new buddy?”
Classic Violet, an intense glare paired with her trademark: that condescendingly nonchalant tone she loves to use with me.
“Don’t you have better things to do than ask me for a status report?”
“That bad? Sorry. Ethan and I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just sort of did.”
I see they’ve been rehearsing their responses together…
“I don’t really want to know the details.”
Well, actually, I do. But if that means listening to more of her belittling tone, then I’m good.
The thing is, Violet doesn’t stop until she knows she’s gotten under my skin.
“If anything, you should be thanking me,” she continues, the sureness in her voice fizzling. “Troy’s taller than Ethan. Tall enough to work with your dangly legs.”
“And Ethan gets to work with your sunshiny personality.” I slap on the same fake smile she’s wearing. “At least it was a fair trade.”
“You got lucky before. But luck wears out. And I have every intention of winning again.”
“It’s a team sport. Don’t act like you would have won without Troy.” Defending your enemy for a bigger enemy is almost as shocking as the look on Violet’s face by my comment.
“Oh, Ana,” she tries to brush past it. “Troy’s good. But I’ve always been better. You’ll see soon enough. This is my game. So do yourself a favor, and stay out of my way.”
A chill brushes past my neck by her empty threat as she walks away. Losing my motivation to skate now, I decide on later in the evening and make a trip to the gift shop.
A flashback of my journal entry from a few weeks ago delivers another onslaught of shivers,
One of these days I’m going to tell Violet exactly how I feel, how she’s made me feel since the first day of high school.
I tried to do it today, but I choked. Again.
_________
“Do they really need to kiss like that every time?”
“That’s how people kiss, Elle,” Naomi chides facetiously.
“I don’t think his tongue needs to be shoved down her throat like that.”
“And if it was in your throat?”
A flushed Eloise flips her off, earning herself a loud snort from both of us.
Naomi and Elle were about to finish their shifts, and the timing worked as we were all in need of a comfort meal. Sharing an order of fries, I make a mental note to watch how many I indulge in, while Eloise’s eyes remain glued to the couple who’s currently tonguing each other.
“I heard she’s been talking to the goalie on the water polo team,” she shares.
Invited to The Academy just last year, Perla Saab’s the gold medalist favorite for women’s singles at the upcoming Winter Games.
At 20, she made headlines on campus last fall for hooking up with the co-captain of the Hummingbirds, Troy’s older brother, Dimitri, and they’ve been dating ever since, to Elle’s extreme dismay.
“Perla and Chris?” I reply to the cheating rumor.
“Yeah,” Naomi agrees, “I can’t picture it either.”
Elle now licks her lips, watching them. “Is it bad that I hope it’s true?”
“Yes,” Naomi replies curtly.
“That was a rhetorical question, genius.”
“It’s funny how you and Donya’s love lives literally mirror each other’s,” I add. “Both in love with hockey players older than you who are never available.”
“Except she’s in denial about it.” Elle has said it to Donya’s face before. We all have. But she insists that she and Xavier are just friends. Friends who happen to eye fuck every time they pass by the other.
Elle makes a run for her already late shift, leaving Naomi and me the updated audience for the rink’s it-couple.
A loud chattering competes for our attention as we turn around to find a sweet-talking Violet, whispering something into the ear of the newest member of The Academy, Katya Sharapova.
Her skating partner, Max Sulewski, is the second and only other invitee this season, two less than the typical four pair skaters at the top senior level that are accepted here each year.
The competition is only getting stronger, not just at our Academy, but also the rest of the ones in the US and globally. And at 19, Katya and Max are an impressive duo, younger than those of us who’ve reached what I like to call it, our “halfway mark.”
Young enough to be at the peak of your career, but old enough where any new and hungry skater is a threat to the years you’ve dedicated to the sport. There’s a reason I doubled the hours I organize for practice these past few years.
I’m not ready to lose my spot anytime soon.
I try my best to avoid eye contact with Violet, who looks pleased by their conversation, once our newest member’s glossy burgundy-dyed strands brush past Violet’s shoulders.
She carries the same intimidating presence as Violet, the one that commands any room they enter.
If earrings could also make someone seem regal, then she’s definitely the archetype, with silver hoops reflecting crystals so bright the sun’s reflection projecting into the rink is practically blinding us.
Approaching the exit, Katya pays a brief glance our way. I offer her a welcoming smile.
“Hey, I’m Ana.”
She doesn’t slow down her pace, her brows scrunching together with disinterest, the uncomfortably slow once-over she gives me deciding for her that I’m not worthy of her time. Or a response.
Naomi pats my back at my now parted lips as she passes us without a word. “That went well.”
“Why do I even bother?” I say, defeated.
Violet must have put me on her hit list already. Should’ve known better.
_________
My current shift at the diner interrupted my evening plans to skate, but if I leave before midnight, I’ll still have enough time to get a few hours of sleep.
Zoe, my favorite manager at Rudy’s Diner, is working today, so it’s a perfect time to ask for an extension to my hours.
Other than her, I’m not too familiar with the rest of our staff.
I’ve worked here long enough where I should, theoretically, know everyone who works here.
But the employee turnover rate is pretty high since our team mainly consists of college students from Faerieladle.
I wait until she’s checked on a few tables before I ask. My manager’s not too keen on the idea of more practice. She thinks I skate too much and prioritize it more than I should, and it’s been entirely fruitless trying to convince her that, if anything, I’m constantly falling behind.
“Hey, Zoe,” I finally strike up the courage, “is there a way I could have some extra hours in July?”
“Next month’s schedule is pretty tight,” she says, “but I can see what I can do. Please don’t tell me this is so you can add more hours into your skating?”
Guilt strains my chest, knowing she’ll see right through my lie. “I don’t have a choice.”
“No. You always have a choice.”
I smile, but she’s wrong. The same financial luxury the rest of the skaters at our academy have are the ones I’m constantly fighting for a fraction of.