CHAPTER 100
Ana
“WHAT’S THIS?” TROY asks me when I arrive to practice the following morning with my diary, handing the booklet to him.
Our first practice back at the rink since my break.
“Everything I can’t say to you,” I reply. “But want you to know.”
Words like, I’m opening up to you, I finally trust someone again. Words like that.
“It’s my diary,” I explain. “I’ve been writing in it since I was 12.”
“You don’t have to give this to me,” he reassures.
“I know. I want to. Just promise me you won’t make a big deal about what you read.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
Accepting that this is all part of the whole honesty thing, I hand over the collage of bittersweet memories.
Returning home feeling just that much lighter, I pull out my drawer, remembering another item I’ve been holding onto. The grudge. When my gaze lands on the tiny figure skate pendant still tucked in the corner, I reach for my phone, dialing an old friend.
“Hey,” I say once I hear the familiar voice on the other line, “could I ask you for a favor?”
_________
Troy
I don’t know why I’m this nervous.
Maybe because of the way Ana built it all up? What will I find in here that she’s so nervous to tell me—that she thinks I’d make a big deal out of?
Waiting until I’ve returned to my apartment in the evening, I plop onto the smaller sofa, the one she hates, smiling at the reminder, before finally opening the soft purple diary only to find a sticky note covering the first page:
There are some not-so-nice things about you in here,
but it’s how I felt before I knew you better.
I hope this doesn’t change how you see me.
- Ana
That’s not helping my flickering heartbeat.
I begin to read.
I just had my first kiss with Andrew. It was weird. And sloppy. And dry? Was it supposed to be dry? I don’t think so. He smelled a little, too. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe I’ll wear a scented lip balm next time.
I sigh at the panic I was thinking I’d run into. I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at another guy kissing Ana before me. But hey, at least he smelled. That makes me feel really good.
Troy took my parking spot today. For the 6785th time.
I wanted to dump my smoothie over his head.
But I was thirsty, so I just ignored him when we walked past each other in the halls.
He smelled really good today. The asshole always smells good.
I’d bet his butt doesn’t even smell. The universe is really unfair sometimes.
I cough out a laugh. That’s my Ana.
A guy stopped me at the rink today just to say how good I looked in my costume at Nationals.
He said I finally grew tits. He looked like he’s in college already.
I just turned 15. I don’t know why I said ‘thank you.’ I was uncomfortable and it felt gross.
But it was the only compliment anyone’s given my body before.
My fingers clench onto the sides of the paper, wanting to smash the guy in question’s head in, nausea spreading all around my stomach.
If I just breathe, this year will be over soon.
‘You finally have everything you want’, Pippa Collins told me in my interview with her today. If she read some of the comments I got after the Games, I don’t know if she’d have said that.
I almost don’t want to keep reading. But if Ana had to go through all this, the least I can do is read through it.
No one at the rink wants to be my friend.
I brought my own birthday cake to the lobby, and Tatiana and Natalia took my cake and threw it in the trash.
They told me no one cared that it was my birthday.
My mom asked me why I was crying in the car.
I said I tripped during practice and was just in some pain.
I don’t know what I would’ve done if Donya hadn’t brought me a cookie later that day that we shared together.
I feel like a jerk for ever thinking Ana was stuck-up. I always admired her intensity on the ice, but sometimes thought she was stand-offish. Yeah, I feel like a big fucking jerk right now.
Troy’s mom just died.
I put the diary down.
And take a deep, slow breath before picking it up again.
I really liked her. I think she was one of the only moms at the rink who liked me too. I cried when she died. I didn’t tell him that. I tried to be nice to him today, but I really think he does hate me. He just laughed in my face. Whatever, it’s fine by me, because I hate him even more.
In this moment, if there’s one day I hate myself for is the day Ana tried to be nice to me. Now that I know she remembers it too, it makes me feel even more sick inside.
The anger I felt when Mom died was so visceral that it extended onto the entire world. I hated everyone. But never her. I never hated Ana. The fact that I made her feel like I did is eating at my skin right now.
I stopped crying.
I can’t cry anymore.
I’m sad. But I can’t cry anymore. And it’s freaking me out that I’m not crying when this one social media account keeps harassing me. ‘No matter what you do, the rink will never be big enough for you, Big Foot. So use those skates to good use and end it all.’
Like most logical people, I’m against murder. But right now, I want to kill whoever sent those words to her with my bare hands.
I flip the page abruptly to stop myself from tracking this account down with the zero evidence I have to help me see my current violent thoughts through.
I’ve never liked telling anyone my feelings.
Maybe because it feels like I’m living all those horrible things over again.
If I just leave them in the past, it dies with the memories.
But lately, they’re all trying to push in front of my face and tell me, hey you, remember me? Yeah, let’s talk about what happened.
Oh Ana.
Troy thinks I don’t trust him.
How can I tell him that he has it all wrong?
I’m not scared to trust him.
I’m terrified at how easy he’s made it for me to trust someone again.
I keep reading until I reach the end, feeling like I just lived through a horror movie.
And my stomach twists, knowing that this was her story. She actually lived it.
She is living it.
I didn’t know before. I mentally slap myself for not knowing, before.
But now that I know, there’s no excuse.
I make a promise to myself in this moment, that I’m going to show this girl that someone will always be here to care for her if she wants. Even if it’s not anything more than just being there for her. Without being with her.
And while she was doubting if she was ever loved, I have never loved anyone more.
_________
Ana
Finishing lacing up my skates on the bleachers the next morning, I turn over my shoulder to the sound of footsteps.
I lift myself up once I spot Troy coming out from the rink’s tunnel, his eyes filled with an intimidating kind of intensity, his jaw tight, the skin all over my neck starting to heat, wondering what he’s about to do.
Closer, he gets much closer, walking like he’s almost about to—
He hugs me.
“Are you listening to me?” he asks. I nod, terribly confused, but not complaining being tucked into his arms like this.
God, I miss how he feels. “Good,” he continues, his mouth so close to my ear it makes me shiver.
“Because I want you to listen carefully when I say this to you.” Another shiver.
“Nothing you tell me will ever change how I see you, Ana.”
Tighter, I hold him much tighter.
“I need you to tell me you heard me,” he demands.
“I heard you.”
I love you.
“Good.” He pulls back before we step onto the ice as our coaches arrive.
I love you, I could almost hear myself say it out loud this time.