CHAPTER 20
Ana
THERE’S NO WAY I’m telling Troy I landed the triple axel last night.
That’s an open door to have my pride roasted by him. In fact, he’s probably waiting to gloat once he finds out I landed the jump after taking his advice. Hence, why he’s not going to find out.
Swinging the ballet studio doors open, I pause when I notice the room isn’t empty.
He’s already here? It’s 5:50 am.
Troy’s always been punctual for skating practices with Violet, but a trace of surprise strikes me, seeing he’s making the same effort for our rehearsals.
Am I actually impressed by something Troy did?
Punctuality isn’t that impressive when he has like a trillion other irritating qualities, I remind myself, immediately feeling better.
He’s stretching an arm over his chest, pausing in place when he sees me, his eyes lifting to mine. “Sleep tight?” he stirs.
Tossing my bag in the opposite corner from him, I reply dryly, “Yeah, got a full one hour. I feel great.”
“Maybe we should practice together next time,” he surprises me with. “I mean, not that I want to. If it was possible, I’d skate with like your hologram, but you can’t always win.”
“I’m amazed how you have any friends.”
He smirks, finally dropping his arm. “Mm, does it bother you that we’re not friends?”
“Sometimes,” I drag out, while I slip off my sneakers, “but then I remember, I have taste.”
Troy’s expression shifts as if he’s in search of a new, most likely equally as stupid comment to buy time until our instructor arrives. “So did you land it?”
I stop, a brush of nerves filling my chest. “Land what?”
“A backflip,” he deadpans, unzipping his jacket. “What do you think? The triple.”
“No, I didn’t,” I lie. Guilt tries to creep in, but I quickly push it down with all the times Troy’s needed an ego check. “I guess your advice wasn’t as helpful as you thought.”
“Well I’m good, but I can’t make magic.”
I scoff as he holds my gaze. Our eyes travel to the door as Colette flounces into the room, wearing a bright blue leotard and a hopeful smile that contrasts the expressions of my new pair and me.
“Good morning,” she peps. “How did your practice go?”
Troy and I briefly glance at each other, wondering which one of us will break the news to our instructor first. How we went out of our way to avoid practicing with each other after our rehearsal ended yesterday.
Colette told us to practice the new movements for an additional hour together after each session, so that it would help our muscles better familiarize with the ice dance positions.
Understanding dawns across her features. “You didn’t practice together.”
Silence.
Troy and I both know better than to fabricate an excuse right now.
“I won’t tell your coaches.” Her voice firms. “But starting today, you need to practice for at least an hour after our rehearsals. It’s critical to get as comfortable with the routine before you practice it on the ice.
As talented as you both are, your technique in the skates you’re used to isn’t going to translate as smoothly as you think.
Think of it like this, an ice dancer isn’t going to land a triple quad overnight if they’ve never practiced one before, and you’re not going to be able to do the more complicated ice dancing lifts if your balance isn’t as sharp as it can be on the ground.
” Colette pauses to anchor in her point. “Do you both understand?”
“Yes,” Troy replies.
“Yes. We’ll practice after.” I look at him, swallowing my pride. “Together.”
“Good.” She nods. “Let’s start with a different lift from yesterday, and then at the end, we will practice the previous ones for you to continue once we’re done for the day.”
_________
Three hours later and Troy and I are both dripping in sweat, sore and tired from the collection of flexible movements.
We have a short fifteen minute break, which I use to stretch out my right hip that’s sorer than usual.
My orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Lao, said pain even a few years after my surgery was to be expected, and that eventually, it’ll all dissipate.
Some wrong moves can trigger pain that ranges from a slight soreness to a brief stabbing pain.
I underestimated my body’s response to learning skating positions I didn’t grow up practicing. And now my muscles are crying out.
When I felt the first shock of pain after the procedure, it was odd since no other injury I had had before had a lingering impact on my practices.
But I knew it was temporary, and every skater has their fair share of pain so I sucked it up.
And now, the pain is less and only comes and goes when pressure hits a specific nerve on my scar.
I bite into the green apple I brought with me then chug loads of water to try and steady my breathing, while resting on the hard wooden floor.
Speaking of pain, before Troy returns to the room, I have the strong urge to check my social media. Donya texted me that Pippa Collins has published her latest figure skating sports column.
Pippa Collins is the top sports reporter at The Faerieladle Times, the most respected pop culture and sports magazine in the US. If she pronounces you a star, you are a star, and if she announces your downfall, well…you get the idea. In our world, her opinion—what she thinks of you—matters.
My adrenaline begins to spike, while my mind battles with my body, debating if it’s worth it to check. I pull out my phone just to take a peek…
Were the last Games just a fluke for Olympic fan favorite, Ana Petrov? Or will Milan 2026 be a repeat of disappointment? We’ll find out in less than 9 months, the headline reads, and my heart does four summersaults.
The door rattles, and Troy enters back into the room.
Taking a final deep breath before I turn to face him, I wiggle my damp t-shirt and tighten the waistband of my leggings as I push to my feet.
“Colette didn’t leave us the track to practice to,” he says.
“I think the music is the least of our problems,” I say. “Our routine’s going like shit.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you refuse to listen to a single thing I say,” he chides, crossing his arms.
Of course he’s blaming our lack of progress on me.
“And that’s somehow why you couldn’t lift me in the right spot?”
“Uh, I couldn’t lift you the right way because you kept fidgeting.”
“I wouldn’t have fidgeted if you knew what you were doing.”
“Because you’re an ice dance expert, Petrov, of course. My bad that I forgot.”
Frustrated, I motion for him to come forward. “Okay, if you’re so confident, come here and try it again.”