CHAPTER 109
Ana
“TROY LARSSON AND Ana Petrov won!”
Somehow, we managed to place first at Nationals, which officially meant, with our combined technical scores and placement at the Grand Prix Events even with missing the Final, we’re on our way to the Milan Winter Games.
Ah we did it.
Even as the journalist who’s about to interview us separately makes the announcement, it’s still a gigantic shock.
I credit a major part of it, oddly, to Coach Yamamoto’s speech. Or rant. Or lecture. Whatever it was, it’s like her words struck this fizzling nerve inside of me, feeling a bit fearless ever since.
Ever since I was reminded who I was doing all of this for.
Maybe the trophies and medals at some point were for validation and to prove to my family that their sacrifices were worth it, that I’d continue on the family name.
When all along, it was for me.
It’s almost like the universe wanted to make this day extra special because while a bunch of skaters were interviewed by Pippa today, I had a chance to meet this new and up-and-coming sports reporter, a young intern from a university in Sweden, Diana Nielsen.
And from the few minutes I’ve met her, she seems super sweet and not like she’s drooling to dart questions at me in hopes of forcing out a trick response.
Not like Collins.
The interview goes really well, but the final question has me scratching my head a little.
“What’s a fun fact that your fans might not know about you?”
The question sits in my head for a few moments, for some reason, remembering Donya’s words.
But I hope you realize how lucky you are. To look the way that you do. Because you’re fucking wasting it.
I hated the sadness, the heavy anger that drowned over my friend’s eyes when she told me that, that she’s been working herself so hard, as hard as the rest of us, and there’s just no recognition.
How many girls probably feel the same way that she does. How many never felt included in our sport, the promise I made to myself to do this for us, never having had someone to turn to, to look up to when I was inspired by this world as a kid.
So I reply to the question with my first name.
My full first name.
_________
And these were just some of the comments waiting for me all over my Instagram, TikTok, and the Faerieladle Waves Pod:
She’s Persian???
New type unlocked: Persian
If they all look like that, wow, I’ve been sleeping on Persian women.
Another reason to hate Ana #leavetheacademynow
Wasn’t sure why I disliked her so much. Now I know why. Take your family and go back to your country
How can you be representing Team USA but be from THAT country. Disgusting...
Omg. Ana Petrov is PERSIAN?! I love her even more now
I’ve been skating since I was ten, and Ana’s always been my role model. And now I found out she’s ALSO Persian, I’m actually crying, this is amazing!!
My parents still think skating is a waste of time. I’ll be telling them that THE Anahita Petrov is one of us. Thank you, Ana
How is it that people are JUST finding out Ana’s Persian?
She used to skate at the Wisteria rink all the time, and I’d see her mom bring her lunch a few times a week, and it was always Persian food.
She would also speak a little in Farsi with her mom.
I guess maybe she didn’t want people to know. Weird...
Technically she’s just half, so I’m gonna happily keep pretending she’s full Bulgarian...
Are we actually positive that she’s Persian? Someone pull a piece of her hair out so we can double check her DNA. I’ll pay for the test
Ewwwwww. Just ew.
Thank GOD she dropped her full first name. The fuck is a name like Anahita?
I thought Ana was short for Anastasia. I’ll be having nightmares tonight.
Who the fuck cares about any of this shit? She’s a shit athlete at a shit sport. Hockey rules.
Ah, the Internet.
A lovely, magical place.
_________
You know you’ve reached Naomi Yamamoto’s house when it’s the only home on the street with all the Christmas lights up even in mid-January.
To her parents and brother Sam’s extreme dismay.
A shadow glows against the glass window by the entrance, branches of illuminated pine sticking out from behind the curtains as Troy and I step into her driveway carrying boxes of fabrics and beads.
With some last-minute help from the rink’s designer Esmerelda, we gathered enough shiny materials to try and make our own costumes.
Except, none of us really knows how to sew so we’re relying on group effort and a shit ton of YouTube tutorials.
And hoping Rina can help us out a little.
Naomi immediately answers the door before we quickly get to work, her grandmother coming in shortly after with an electric purple dress in one hand.
She grabs a seat at the kitchen table that’s puked with all sorts of items: sewing kits, packets of multi-colored gemstones, tulle, lace, fringe, more fabrics in matte, metallic, and satin finishes.
When she drops the dress onto the table, I immediately recognize the piece.
It’s the skating costume she wore during her short program at her final Winter Olympics right before Rina was crowned the most decorated figure skater of all-time.
“I wanted you to have this, Ana,” Coach Yamamoto says sincerely.
My eyes shoot up to her gaze, feeling them already watering.
“Maybe you can use some of it for this new dress,” she adds with a proud smile.
I quickly lean in to hug her tight, Naomi shushing us both as her and Troy are deeply focused on the third sewing tutorial video they’ve found.
When the front bell rings a moment later, I run over to get it, laughing against the snowflake paper cutouts dangling from the doorway’s ceiling that I bump into.
But as the door parts open, my brows pull together in shock.
“Donya?!”
“Oh thank God,” Troy groans out, hearing him sigh in relief from the kitchen, dropping the fabrics that none of us had a fucking clue what to do with.
“What are you doing here?” I say in both excitement and disbelief.
“I heard you needed a dress,” she says shrewdly.
“How did you?” I barely manage to say, still in surprise.
“Naomi’s pretty annoying when she has a request,” she explains.
I pull in my best friend so tight she nearly starts coughing.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I cry out. “I was so shitty to you. That day. In general.”
Donya pushes me aside, batting my shoulder. “I told you to stop apologizing, so stop it!”
I nod, helping her bring in her sewing machine and extra materials as we stroll down the hallway together.
“I heard your interview,” she says. “That was really cool.”
“Well a really cool person told me I was wasting what I had and she was right.”
She squeezes me tight, giving me the brightest smile as we reach the kitchen table, filling the whole space now.
Everyone greets her before the five of us quickly get to work.
To her credit, Donya does most of the work with her fashion expertise and freakishly impressive sewing and designing skills.
She uses a bunch of fabrics that we brought from the rink’s designer, some of her own, and combines the sheer, transparent cutouts from Rina’s costume to the tops of the new dress, its sleeves and chest area.
A vivid purple costume, Donya adds lilac edges to the top layer to give it some more dimension and layers.
The long sleeves now sheer and covered in soft purple crystals.
A backless cut and a strip of fabric flowing on just one side of its bottom edge, the extra touch she decided to give to the piece in a subtle shape of a mermaid’s tail, insisting the dress would match the pirates theme perfectly like this.
And we took her word for it since none of us have a clue what to do with the costumes, while she seems to know every single detail. She selects a simple navy violet long sleeve and matching pants for Troy, a few midnight purple gems lined around the shoulders to match my dress.
And Karl’s friend Kyle did pretty good with the music composition before we all argued about it for a good full day.
At first, it felt impossible to narrow down which songs would fit best and would bring the most impact for the performance.
It was kind of a miracle we all ended up settling on the final cut, selecting scores from a variety of the movies and its sequels: “Will and Elizabeth”, “Up Is Down”, “Drink Up Me Hearties Yo Ho”, “Angelica”, and “One Day”.
But our costumes, ironically, are probably the hardest part of this last-minute routine switch.
As the mess of purple and blue ripples all around the kitchen table like a storm out in the sea, Troy takes a single tiny butterfly bead, gluing it to the inside of my dress.
Noting the precision in his eyes, I joke, “No one’s even going to see that.”
“It’s not for them to see,” he says, flicking his gaze up at me only for a moment before it’s back on the dress.
“Would you choose butterflies or stars, if it came down to it?”
“A star in the shape of a butterfly.”
Something in his eyes is so peculiar it’s like he knew how much I loved butterflies when we were little kids.
I take a seat back, my eyes falling all over the room.
How there’s a shit ton of glitter and crystals over the brown table. The mugs of hot cocoa we’ve all finished. The bright red candy cane tinsel all over the living room.
Even Sam playing video games in the background and annoying his sister every couple of minutes.
And the dress, it’s starting to,
Actually look like a dress.
How everything was starting to crumble there for a moment.
More than a moment.
How did we do it? I’m still pondering the fact, realizing as angry as I still am by the situation, at Violet and Ethan for sabotaging our free skate, for taking credit for our work—our blood, sweat, and tears—if they hadn’t done what they did, we wouldn’t be here right now, a pool of vibrant purple for a new performance with an entirely new story to tell, a story so mad it kind of works.
Sometimes when things fall apart we have no choice but to try and make something better out of it.
“It’ll all come together,” Naomi says, bringing the fabric to her chest.
The jewels start slipping off one by one.
“It’ll all come together,” she repeats nervously.
I laugh.
It’ll all come together.
Yeah, it just might.