Chapter 10 #3
Early that morning, Alisa and Lev were sitting in the locker room with Ilya and Maria, lacing up their skates while the arena around them was still silent.
Nobody was on the ice yet, and throughout the whole complex there was that strange, muffled quiet that only existed before dawn practices, when the building still seemed half asleep.
The only sound came from the low conversations in the locker room and the sharp pull of laces through metal hooks.
“Did you see what that guy from the U.S. did yesterday?” Ilya said suddenly. “He landed so many quads, judges are already saying that’s he’s the only one who can do it. But they haven’t seen our program yet, haven’t they, Maria?”
He grinned and tilted his head toward Maria.
“No,” Maria replied with a smile. “And he’s definitely not the only one who can jump quads.”
Ilya winked at her, then stood up from the bench and held out his hand.
“But you’re in different categories,” Alisa said tiredly. “Why the hell do you even care?”
She let out a slow breath. Her whole body ached from the pressure of the last few days.
Either they would earn the quota place, or they would lose it and have to go back to Russia having failed the team, and that thought sat somewhere deep inside her like a stone.
There were so many good athletes back home, so many people who could have been sent here instead of them, and if they lost, it would feel like they had wasted that chance.
“Alisa,” Ilya said, looking at her as though she had said something absurd, “what kind of world are you living in? One with pink ponies?”
He laughed softly.
“We’re all competing with each other here. You never know where you’ll end up skating someday, alone or in pairs, in another country, with another coach, with another partner. Anything can happen.”
The words made Alisa tense immediately.
Because he was right.
Nothing lasted forever.
“And besides,” Ilya added with a snort, “he’s American. I have a special relationship with Americans. Same as they have with us.”
He reached for Maria’s hand and led her out of the locker room.
Alisa only shrugged and bent over her skates again, lacing them more slowly now, staring down at her hands without really seeing them.
* * *
It’s time for the free program. Everything would be decided today.
Alisa nervously bit her lips, peeling away tiny flakes of dried skin.
She stood in a red sequined suit with black stripes on her skirt, a living embodiment of red and black sequins, while Lev watched the stands with calm precision.
The crowd had been buzzing since morning, but their performance would come near the very end of the day.
As all the couples lined up to warm up for six minutes before the performance, Alisa felt her heart pounding, but it was not in her chest, it was in her temples and ears.
Tension and pressure pressed against her from all sides, and she had to close her eyes to steady herself.
The outcome of this day loomed unbearably over her: even earning a quota might not guarantee a place at the Olympics.
The decisions were already in motion inside the Olympic committee; this was not the end of the path, only one of its most crucial steps.
Out on the ice, couples began practicing choreography, feeling the freshly rolled surface beneath their blades. Today it seemed colder than usual, but that was inconsequential. This wouldn’t stop them from performing, Alisa told herself as she stepped onto the ice and gripped Lev’s hand.
As Alisa and Lev spun together, practicing a twizzle near the boards, Tora and Loke sent their blades flying dangerously close, slicing the air so near Alisa and Lev that the crowd gasped.
“What are you doing, critters?!” the Lev shouted, lunging forward, but Alisa held him back in time.
“It was an accident, Lev,” she hissed, though Lev’s anger only grew.
“They want to throw us off! Don’t you see that?” he snapped.
Alisa hesitated, saying nothing, bowing her head as she took his hand, rolling through a few more elements in silence, perfecting them before their performance, they were performing under the number 3 in the group. Loke and Tora were slated to perform fifth.
Lev’s face was so tense that Alisa feared speaking; she let the moment pass.
Tora and Loke could not have deliberately cut that close—Tora would never hurt her—but their indifferent response spoke volumes.
If they cared, they would have apologized?
Yet they skated on and on, rolling back their elements as if nothing had happened, while Lev fumed, barely containing the surge of fury that made him appear almost rabid.
“The warm-up is over. All couples who are not performing first must leave the ice,” the loudspeaker said, and the couples began to disperse.
The first two pairs skated well, but imperfections lingered, and adrenaline ignited Alisa’s competitive spirit. A smile spread across her face as she moved toward the performance gate. Lev remained unsmiling, taut as a bowstring, as she nudged him.
“Enough. It’s time to shine,” she whispered, feeling the coach’s hands steady her back.
The coach gave a quick, encouraging phrase: “Come on, show your best. The quota should be yours, my dears.”
Nodding, they stepped onto the ice as the presenter’s voice boomed through the arena: “On the ice, representing Russia, Alisa Voronkova and Lev Pobedinsky!” Waving to the crowd, they glided to the center, hearts racing, ready to begin their program.
* * *
Tora was sitting in the stands with Loke, and they were watching the Russian performance.
Tora felt strange; she was happy for Alisa, but at the same time, Alisa was her rival, and they had to secure the quotas for their country — the tension was crazy.
However, they still felt light, as if it were just another competition that did not really matter, as their coach used to say, “Take life easy, my dears. Do everything with a smile and passion, because you’re skating for your hearts and souls, not for something higher, right? ”
The coach always encouraged them with some kind of life philosophy, so they skated for their souls and trained hard, but it was still a joy, no matter how difficult it was, because it was their life, and they were in love with it.
Alisa and Lev launched into their program with precise, fluid grace. Every step sequence, every spin, every twizzle, the small and rapid turns on one foot that make skaters look like they’re spinning on air, they were executed flawlessly.
Even the lifts, where Lev hoisted Alisa above his head in a horizontal glide, seemed effortless.
To an untrained eye, it looked like magic: she floated, he steadied, and the air seemed to bend around them.
Above the ice, a giant screen lit up with green and yellow boxes marking each completed element for the judges.
Tora leaned forward, eyes fixed on the display.
Each flawlessly executed move sent the crowd into frenzied applause.
Alisa and Lev had completed the minimum elements required, yet they pressed on, pushing into more daring choreography.
When Lev lifted Alisa into a high, spinning overhead rotation, her body perfectly horizontal, arms extended like wings, the audience held its collective breath.
And then… a scream.
“Oh no…” Tora whispered, the sound of dread catching in her throat.
Alisa’s rotation ended, but Lev stumbled.
His grip faltered just slightly, and Alisa’s body hit the ice with a sickening impact.
She staggered, but Lev, bent awkwardly on one knee, caught her before she could fall completely.
Pain shot through him, and he pressed his hands to his own knee, grimacing, yet his focus never wavered from Alisa.
Miraculously, she regained her balance and continued the program, finishing the element, but the audience was frozen in a stunned silence, their cheers gone.
The music ended. Alisa skated urgently toward Lev, her face a mask screaming of fear and disbelief.
He remained on the ice, writhing in pain, eyes closed, the agony was there for everyone to see.
Medics rushed forward, lifting Lev onto a stretcher and carrying him out of the arena.
Alisa froze where she stood, her gaze locked on the empty space where he had fallen, unable to move.
An escort guided her off the ice, but her mind seemed elsewhere.
In the Kiss & Cry Zone, she sat motionless.
Her eyes were empty, lips pressed into a thin, emotionless line, blinking only when forced.
She stared through space and time at the ice, the screen above showing the moment over and over.
When the scores were announced, she didn’t even react.
Only when the coach gently guided her away, shutting down the camera that had captured every expression for the world to see, did she move, the weight of the moment settling like stone in her chest.
* * *
Alisa sat in the arena’s medical center, clutching Lev’s hand as he waited for the painkillers to take effect. Silence wrapped around them like a heavy fog, broken only by Pike pacing nervously, phone pressed to her ear, speaking in hurried, measured tones to Lev’s parents.
“Yes… he has a knee injury. While they’re figuring out how serious it is, we’ll go to the hospital for X-rays and an ultrasound. Yes, we’re waiting for the car. I’ll go with him. Alisa will have to wait for the results and the end of the competition.”
Pike’s serious eyes met Alisa’s, but she only nodded, her gaze still distant and empty, as if her life had cracked open and all the color had drained away, which in a sense it had.
If Lev’s injury was severe, he might not skate again for six months.
The quotas, the culmination of all their efforts, could slip through their fingers despite the flawless execution of nearly every element.
That one disastrous final move had thrown everything into chaos.
Alisa squeezed Lev’s hand tighter.