CHAPTER 23
Ana
TONIGHT IS MOVIE night at the Yamamoto household.
Well, it was supposed to be.
Every Friday night during summer, Naomi, her younger brother, Sam, Rina, and her parents, and I would watch a movie together. But ever since Naomi’s parents started fighting a lot more the past year, the tradition pretty much fizzled out.
Naomi and I have kept our own tradition going, but movie nights haven’t been as easy to manage with my schedule lately. For tonight, we decided on a rewatch of our favorite Japanese film, Spirited Away.
It’s still awkward walking past her parents now, because I have to be careful with what I say.
Usually, anything I opt with ends in an argument from one of them when they take my words to segway the conversation into something wrong one of them did to the other.
Though, tonight is a rare exception. They’re dead silent.
As Naomi and I move past the dining room, we spot them having their dinner, both on their phones.
Naomi frowns once we each her room and find her brother plopped right in the middle of her bed on his laptop. “Sam, what are you doing in here? Is that pizza sauce on my bed?!”
He holds a hand up to her, still typing on his device. “It’s just some tomato, it’ll come right off. Chill out.”
“Get out of my room!!”
He covers his head dramatically. “You’re hurting my ears.”
“Am I being loud? I’m sorry,” she mocks. “Leave! Why are you even in my room?”
“The internet’s better in here.” He finally looks up at us. “Nothing’s loading from my room, again.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Go downstairs or to Mom and Dad’s room, or on the roof, I don’t care.” She gestures toward the hallway. “Just leave.”
“Pass.”
He drops his head back down to type.
“Okay, fine. But Ana and I are going to talk about boys and kissing and lip gloss. With lots and lots of juicy details.”
“Ew,” Sam snickers, finally jumping off the bed. “And mom wonders why my IQ’s higher than yours…”
Sam knows what’s coming, so he quickly sprints off toward Naomi’s door as she throws her white sneaker at it, missing her younger brother by a good foot. He dashes away, laughing loudly from the end of the hallway.
“I swear,” Naomi says, “he was so sweet ten years ago.”
“You mean when he was 3?” I say.
“Yeah, I miss those times.” She sighs, while plummeting onto her bed.
I laugh as I turn the TV on. After skipping past all the cable programs and variety of movies, I finally find the sports channel I’m dying to check. So far, it’s just hockey commentary regarding the upcoming Hummingbirds game.
When Naomi realizes what I’m doing, she jumps up and tries to wrestle me for the remote. “Gimme that!”
“Just one second, Naomi, please. I have to know what she said.”
“Garbage. Everything she says is garbage!”
Our arms are still tangled as an announcement takes over the screen, the sports reporter that was pinching my mind earlier during Troy and my practice, now appearing before us.
It’s Pippa Collins.
And she’s talking about me.
“It’s interesting how Ana Petrov is competing with Troy Larsson, but something tells me it’s not going to be enough to beat Violet Dupont, who’s now skating with the lesser regarded, Ethan Kasoff.
And it’s not that I don’t want her to win, you know how much I’ve rooted for Ana since the beginning.
But, I’m afraid whatever spark she had in her before, something’s changed her for the worse.
I love being proved wrong, though. But I just have to say it: the magic Ana once had isn’t on that ice anymore. ”
The remote slips from my hand, landing on the covers. “We can change the channel. Here,” Naomi scrambles, most likely at my stunned look.
She was right.
I shouldn’t have checked.
Not having had a chance to catch up on Pippa’s latest social media post, now I realize why Donya warned me that her subsequent commentary and new interview she gave, wasn’t pretty.
The magic Ana once had isn’t on that ice anymore, I can’t unhear it.
“No, it’s fine,” I say, devastated on the inside. “Leave it.”
“You know everything she said, it’s all a bunch of poop.”
Naomi always opts with “poop” instead of “shit,” and it still makes me laugh. I think she’s also relieved that it works this time, though not as well.
“But she’s right,” I confess.
“No, she’s not.”
“What did she say that wasn’t true? That I choked last time. That I barely moved back up at this year’s Worlds. That even with Troy, I’m still the same, lesser version of me that I am right now.”
“You need to stop reading about what others are saying. And yes, that includes Pippa’s scathing reports that you keep obsessing over.”
“Ugh, but even when I’m not on her page, I still run into something she says. It’s all the stupid social media algorithms.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be on social media right now.”
“You know I can’t do that. I need it for work. And no, I can’t lose the two brands I have left that I’m working with. Zoe’s already trying to squeeze extra hours for me at the diner.”
“Okay, maybe then you need to block Pippa’s account. Here, I’ll do it for you.” She reaches for my phone from my bag.
“I’d still see her related posts. Look, I really appreciate your advice on this, and I agree with you. But I can’t avoid social media. Believe me, it’s the first thing I’d do if I could.”
Naomi nods, handing me back my phone. “I know you respect that crazy lady, but Pippa’s just a sports writer who makes unsolicited opinions and then sensationalizes them to the rest of us. And she’s just one person.”
One person whose opinions matter greatly in the figure skating community. Which means her opinions matter greatly to me.
Pippa Collins, believe it or not, respected me, once upon a time.
She was the critic I wanted to impress, and when I did, it validated that I had made it.
I was one of them. One of the figure skaters who you’d remember long after retirement.
I tend to fixate on critique over praise, and Pippa’s comments over the years start shouting for space in my head now:
Her first words about me in 2018:
“Wildcard figure skater, Ana Petrov is titled as Ice Princess from fans.”
- Pippa Collins, The Faerieladle Times
After my first Winter Olympics in 2018:
“Ice Princess steals the show in PyeongChang.”
- Pippa Collins, The Faerieladle Times
After my second Winter Olympics in 2022:
“Ice Princess’s crown gets stained in Beijing.”
- Pippa Collins, The Faerieladle Times
The words of a critic shouldn’t weigh much on my routines, but it does when our sport is so mentally straining.
The focus it takes to perfect each spin, each jump, each lift, each movement we do, is equally as tough on the mind as it is on the body.
Then the criticism and hate that explodes after your every move on the ice is dissected online is enough to leave you feeling paralyzed.
Maybe Pippa would still see me with a high regard if I didn’t slip at the last Games. If I had tighter spins at last year’s Worlds. If I could still slip into the same costumes I did at 15. Maybe then, she’d talk about me the same. The way she used to.
“Yeah, actually, let’s change the subject,” I tell Naomi, my stomach growing queasy at the rewind of skating headlines.
“Winter Formal.” Naomi claps, pointing an index finger in my direction. “I need your help to plan for it.”
My brows knit together. “In summer?”
“Yup, I already planned a decent portion of Homecoming, and I figured you’d be busier in January because of the Games.”
“Gotcha.” I nod as she brings out her mint green scrapbook from her study desk.
Naomi’s on the leadership team at Faerieladle High, and part of her tasks include event planning for Homecoming, Winter Formal, and Prom.
While we browse her current set of ideas for the most anticipated dance at their school, I try and ease into the topic I’m wondering how best to bring up. “So, your parents.”
“Yeah, did you see them? They were in a good mood, for once.”
I recognize her sarcasm. Naomi pretends like she’s fine with her parents’ falling out, though I can’t help but sense that it’s got to bother her at least somewhat.
“We can talk about it if you want, you know I’m here for you.”
“I know.” She looks up at me, smiling. “And thanks. But, it’s pretty simple. They hate each other, so they should just end both their misery and get a divorce. I don’t understand what’s taking them so long.”
This is classic Naomi. Pointing out all the logical things and shoving out any emotions from the equation.
Remind you of anyone? I chide at myself.
Part of me now wonders if I’m partially to blame for how she deals with her emotions.
Though maybe things just don’t get to her the same way they do to everyone else.
It’s the impression of her I got when we first met.
That can be possible, right? Because I shove out my emotions, but things still get to me, so in that sense, we’re not the same at all.
“You’re coming to Winter Formal, though, right?” she asks.
“Yes, of course.”
“I know you already said you are. I just really want you there since it’s my senior year.” Hope swims from her eyes.
Besides all the lavish decorations, Naomi loves planning a grand event.
Her organization skills are killer. And she always has endless ideas.
To me, she’s a genius in any skill she wants to pick up.
A natural, if you will, to those of us who have to continuously try until we master an art.
She wants this Winter Formal to go down in the books for the biggest winter dance Faerieladle High’s seen yet, and I’m not going to let her down.
“You know I’d never miss it.”