CHAPTER 29
Ana
JUMP—JUMP—JUMP.
I’ve been practicing my jumps at the rink all week until Troy comes back from Greece.
When he first told me about his trip, my initial reaction was borderline furious. Part of it stemmed from jealousy. I’d choose skating over a vacation on most days, but I also can’t remember the last time I went on a vacation. Not that I could even afford the kinds that Troy goes on.
I’m not fantasizing about summer vacations right now, though. In a few days, Troy and I will finally start practicing our ice dance routine on the ice. Which means we’re on our way to starting our actual Olympic routines, hopefully sooner than our coaches told us we needed to wait until.
And it's already Friday. After the weekend, we’ll both be at this rink together. Finally.
Changing up my current pace, I switch to spins.
I’m barely gaining back my balance on the blades of my last spin, when I hear the Icy Trio’s skates scratch along the ice.
The sound is as rough and disturbing as nails on a chalkboard.
The only thing that would complete this nightmare from hell is if Violet were also here.
Wait.
Shit.
She is.
The trio’s leader waltzes onto the ice, striding toward her clique, while she pays me sideway glances every few seconds or so.
Ana, wanna play a game?
I focus on the plexiglass to ward off the terrible flashback from creeping into my brain.
But it’s too late. The girls—all four of them—Tatiana, Sheerin, Natalia, and Violet, start skating in large circles. And just like that, it feels like yesterday when I’d learn a lesson on this exact ice.
Whoever spins the fastest gets dibs on choosing their practice hours.
It was my turn. And the minute I went spinning, that’s when Tatiana decided she’d have a little bit of fun with me.
Oops!
She shoved right into me, and my body slammed onto the ice, my elbow scraping underneath the slippery cold weight. Streaks of blood ripped from my skin and stained my new leotard. The leotard that took a month of working myself to the bone at the diner to save up for.
Hey! I had yelled through the tears from the pain.
It was an accident, Ana. You were in the way, Natalia had defended her friend, while I watched the rest of the girls hover over me, looking at me like I was some freak.
That day was the first of many deadly presents I’d receive following my unexpected win at the PyeongChang Winter Games.
The lesson I learned: You can be great, incredible even.
Just don’t dare being better than Violet Dupont.
Then you’re a shoo-in to be on the receiving end of torment from her and her clique.
Her clique, whether they’re oblivious to it or not, weren’t selected on accident.
Violet doesn’t befriend anyone who’s at her level.
Meaning she views Tatiana, Sheerin, and Natalia as beneath her, in terms of skating talent.
And those who threaten her crown, so to speak, she will try and push toward insanity if you don’t look out for yourself.
When the hottest Canadian figure skating pair from rivaling skating academy, Aadland Academy, Celeste Walsh and Aaron Donovan, dethroned her and Troy at the Grand Prix Final a few years ago, her hate for Celeste also skyrocketed.
Violet’s hate for me started leading up to PyeongChang.
Her cold shoulder began when I joined The Academy a year prior to those Games.
She studied me carefully from afar. Wondering if I would be seen as a potential threat to her expected successful skating career.
The Golden Girl of figure skating as Pippa Collins titled her.
The perfect girl. The it-girl. Cookie cutter with no sharp edges from the public’s view.
The minute I became better than her after those Games, she hated me for it. And her orchestra of hate kicked off.
Silent bullying. Passive aggressive snide remarks.
Turning everyone at the rink against me when I didn’t do a thing to her to deserve any of it.
If Violet was one thing, she was strategic.
She’d strike her prey (me), and most of the time, not for any eyes to see.
When the guys were watching, she toned it down.
When Troy was watching, she toned it down.
When her family was around, she toned it down.
When she wanted the hate I received to be less, it suddenly toned down.
She controlled it all. Because everyone listens to powerful people.
Like the Phantom of the Opera, but a horror version.
She was the conductor of the most wicked symphony, and I was one of those string instruments tearing at its seams.
I picked myself off the cold ice with my bleeding elbow after Tatiana had pushed me that day, while the girls continued to snicker to themselves, and went straight to the trainer’s office.
My heart stopped when I ran into Marion Dupont there.
She was speaking with the rink’s famous costume designer, Esmerelda Ramirez, and welcoming the newest figure skating trainer, Tyler Sampson.
I didn’t tell Marion the truth in fear of what could’ve happened.
Violet was her granddaughter, and even if she would’ve believed me, she wouldn’t side with a nobody like me over her own cherished blood.
And the rest of the Icy Trio’s parents gave hefty annual donations to the rink, meanwhile I was skating on discount training from my own coach with my invitation hanging by a thread.
I had the golden title, but keeping it—that was another story.
Ana Petrov is the disruptor, they would say about teenage me.
The girl who wasn’t supposed to win. To make it.
People tend to root for you when you’re the wildcard.
Nicknaming you with praise like, that’s our Ice Princess!
But there’s always pushback to the disruption.
The system doesn’t want to budge, and while fans eat it up, some even finding you “inspiring,” the system operates in their own inner machinations.
If they want to build you up, they will, and if they want to see you crash and burn, they will push you toward the end of your career.
They will try to squeeze it out of you, making it appear like it was your decision all along.
They did it to Patty Dune, who got pregnant at the peak of her career, calling her all kinds of names like, a horny ditz when a year before she was still a prodigy, a god.
Patty Dune never returned back to the world of figure skating and the town didn’t take her exit with grace.
At least she seems pretty content nowadays, raising her family with her gorgeous husband.
Believe it or not, the flying vitriol the skater was attacked with was tame in comparison to what athletes at our academy face today.
From the exterior, it might seem like the glamour has only magnified—cleaner routines, sharper costumes, wider rink space—but the venom, the poison that chases the moment you show promising signs of talent, it’s multiplied.
And it’s become less and less visible on the ice. A hidden veil, where you’d see all the damage underneath the cold steel if you shined a light strong enough to bring the nasty pieces to your attention. Instead, it’s painted in glitter, lipstick, and the most dazzling gowns you’d kill for.
Then why do I still care this much when I know the game inside and out now?
It’s those damn figure skates.
When my fingers thread along those laces, creating the tightest knots, I’m teleported to another planet.
A universe where that frozen ground and I only exist. Underneath the crippling anxiety, my love for this terrifying world blooms enough to crack open a trace of light over my favorite palette of white.
_________
The girls continue to turn in circles, regrouping now closer to the boards.
Staring at them, all I can think of is,
Why did you trust them again?
After that, why did you trust them...again?
Stupid, stupid girl...
Circling around, spinning across, like hungry wolves waiting to attack, they all still look the same.
I don’t think this is normal. Or maybe it’s just me.
My thin skin wasn’t meant to survive cuts this deep.
Those were the lines in my diary the next morning.
My entries took a sad turn after that day. The reminder of the whimsical pages turned dark makes my stomach drop in shame. Slouching my shoulders, I skate toward the gate, leaving the ice.
Nathan and Antonio grin at me as I reach the hallway that exits our main skating rink.
To this day, I never know what those luring smiles mean.
They both exude serious sex appeal, so the gesture always makes my belly jump.
But maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just part of the game.
Something about it never felt real. It still doesn’t.