Chapter 22
Alisa desperately wanted to give in and snap into sweets, just eat an entire bucket of chocolates from every brand imaginable, but instead she sat before training, dangling her skates from her feet back and forth, waiting for her turn again after the hockey players left the ice.
She wasn’t exactly angry at them, but sometimes they really didn’t leave the ice in the best condition, and Alisa secretly dreamed they’d come here a little less often. Unfortunately, their training schedules sometimes overlapped.
She watched Hermann aggressively firing pucks at the goalkeeper, who caught every single one, which only seemed to make Hermann more irritated. Apparently, today was not his day.
He finally took off his helmet and skated over to the side, stopping in front of Alisa. He placed the helmet next to the blade protectors and bottles, ruffled his blond hair, half damp from the intensity of training, and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Then he nodded at her. “How are you today? You look sad…”
Alisa snorted and rolled her eyes. “Look at yourself!”
Hermann gave a small, almost pitiful laugh. “Yeah… definitely not my day. Anthony is catching everything today. Not a single goal…”
“Sorry for you, blondie…”
He just nodded again.
Alisa pulled a can of zero coke from her sports bag beside the bench, opened it with a sharp hiss, and slid a metal straw inside the can before taking a few sips.
Almost immediately, the urge for sweets dulled, coke was her emergency survival system whenever sugar cravings hit full force.
Before important competitions, though, she kept a very strict diet… painfully strict.
She noticed Hermann watching her drink with a kind of exaggerated interest, almost like he was considering stealing it.
Alisa raised an eyebrow and held the can out. “Want some?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a sip, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course, no problem.”
Hermann took a couple of sips, with no straw obviously, and handed it back to her with a satisfied nod.
Then he put his helmet back on and skated off toward the goalie, apparently returning to finish his training, while at the other end of the arena the gates were already opening for the Zamboni ice machines.
A heavy hand suddenly landed on Alisa’s shoulder, and she turned left, only to realize Anfisa was already there. Their joint training session again.
Alisa smiled instantly. Her mood lifted on the spot, because honestly… how do people say it? Everything really is more fun with a friend?!
“Did you just… give him your coke to drink?” Anfisa looked at her with visible disgust, which made Alisa burst into laughter.
She had known Hermann for a long time, he was basically like a brother to her.
They shared food, went to parties, had late-night hangouts… but strictly as friends. Nothing more.
“Well, yeah…” Alisa shrugged, slipping the straw back into the can and continuing to drink, even though there wasn’t much left.
“What a horse,” she muttered with a grin under her breath.
Anfisa just stared at her in horror. “So you just had indirect contact, you exchanged bacteria, and now his bacteria is in your coke. And now it’s in you.”
Alisa almost laughed again, completely unfazed. She wasn’t squeamish at all when it came to people close to her.
“Well, we’ve been sharing bacterial biomes for years already, so I think I’ll survive.”
Anfisa pressed her lips together and slowly turned her gaze toward Hermann, narrowing her eyes aggressively and baring her expression like a panther ready to bite.
And then she shifted focus again, digging through her bag until she found a transparent lip gloss. She pulled out a small heart-shaped mirror and started carefully applying lipstick.
Alisa immediately wanted to joke, “What, like, are you showing off for Hermann?”
Anfisa made an offended little sound, a dramatic “uh!” and playfully bumped Alisa with her shoulder, which made her burst out laughing just as the hockey players started approaching the gates and leaving the ice. Hermann was coming off from their side.
“Ladies!” he bowed slightly, placing the protectors on his blades, then headed toward the locker room, winking at Anfisa on his way.
“What was that just now?” Anfisa frowned.
“Should I be asking you that?” Alisa raised her eyebrows, while the ice resurfacer rolled out and began polishing the rink.
“We’re going to skate on ice ruined by hockey players again!” Anfisa closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.
“Oh come on, they didn’t destroy it today…”
“It’s the same thing every time. Every time I tell them not to use our ice. What’s so hard about them always going to the main rink?”
“Well… probably the fact that, unfortunately, they’re not the only ones allowed to skate there.” Alisa shrugged and stood up from the bench, stretching slowly, her neck first, then shoulders, waking her body up properly.
“What do you have today, by the way?” Anfisa asked.
“Hmm… Dana promised a short program to Deftones. You know that track? It’s dramatic, it gives me goosebumps. We thought we could redo the last short program around it.”
“You just decided to change everything suddenly?”
“Dana said too many classical programs are already being prepared for the final internal qualifiers. So I want something that stands out.”
“Oh, I heard something about that Dana decided to experiment with you right away. Well… good luck then.”
“What about you? What are you skating for your short at the qualifiers?”
“Oh, Alyona and I chose Michael Jackson. I love his tracks.”
“He’s cool, yeah… good luck to you too.”
“Are you rehearsing your program today already or?”
“Well, partially. You might see some choreography excerpts today. Just don’t copy them.” Anfisa giggled and got up at the same time as Alisa, both of them bouncing lightly in place as they warmed up.
“I promise I won’t steal it! I’m a good girl.”
“Oh, that’s for sure. The best.”
They nodded at each other, and after the warm-up, the ice was already shining perfectly, waiting for them.
Arkadiy came to the boards with Dana; they were drinking coffee and talking quietly while watching the rink.
Alisa began her warm-up routine, still with time before full training. She planned to fully warm up her body with jump preparations and element drills.
“Alisa, let’s start with a triple axel, then try a quad entry,” Arkadiy called out as she passed in front of him.
She pointed upward, her thumbs up, in acknowledgment and skated toward the jump section, while the other half of the ice was reserved for choreography work. The men were also training jumps and, as always, Alisa was right there with them.
She went into the triple axel and landed it cleanly… well, sort of.
“Messy! Again!” Arkadiy shouted immediately.
Alisa let out a frustrated growl, did a few more triples, then moved into spins and preparation steps before trying again.
This time she rotated, landed and nearly fell backward, catching herself awkwardly onto the other foot at the last second to regain balance.
A dull, unpleasant ache shot through her legs.
Yeah… definitely not my day either.
Alisa shook herself slightly, trying to reset. Arkadiy’s expression stayed serious as ever. She simply nodded and went back into the entry again.
* * *
At night, Alisa woke up from a terrible pain in both knees, a dull, gnawing ache that felt as if invisible cats were raking claws through the joints. She clenched her jaw hard to keep from crying out, curling into the blanket and squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the wave to pass.
Unfortunately, it happened like this twice a year, always during seasonal shifts, when the weather turned colder and her old knee injuries started “speaking” again.
Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes weeks, and she had to go to training on painkillers twenty-four seven just to exist, not even to mention skating.
Alisa growled softly into the dark room. The moon outside was absurdly bright, cutting through the curtains she had closed before bed, spilling pale light straight into her eyes as if it had something personal against her tonight.
Why is it so bright today…?
She pushed herself out of bed, movement stiff and reluctant, like her left knee simply refused to accept reality. Every step sent a sharp reminder through her legs.
“Perfect timing… just perfect timing, right before the internal qualifiers, blyat’,” she muttered under her breath.
She pulled the curtains wider and stood there for a moment, staring at the moon as if it might answer back, trying to breathe through the pain.
Her left knee had been injured years ago, when she was six.
Not from skating, not from anything dramatic really, it was just a stupid accident at school during physical tests, when she slipped while running a short distance on a hidden stone and fell hard, tumbling across the ground.
She remembered the sting, the shock and the scraped skin…
but at the time it had seemed like nothing. It faded after a few days.
She never even told her parents properly. She didn’t want to worry them.
But then, months later, it came back. And then the other knee joined in, as if it had decided to participate out of spite. Two knees at once. That was when the pain stopped being something she could ignore.
Doctors came and went with diagnoses that sounded almost insulting in their seriousness—arthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, words that felt too heavy for something happening to a child.
It was absurd. It still felt absurd in hindsight.
But at the time, she just took the pills, did the exercises, cried through training, and came back onto the ice anyway.
Because there was never really another option.
Now, she paced slowly through the apartment, trying to outwalk her own body and trying not to think too much about moving. Eventually she grabbed her phone.
Fuck, no signal again. Of course.
She wanted to talk to Tora.
“Tora…” she whispered into the empty room.