CHAPTER 80
Ana
“DID YOU GET my messages?”
I snap around to find Naomi sprinting toward me from the opposite end of the rink’s lobby out of breath.
“We’ll see you later,” Emi says as Sasha and her give me a smile before heading toward the women’s locker room.
When they’ve left, Naomi gapes at me like she’s just spotted me canoodling with the enemy.
But when Eloise appears behind her, she blinks the shock from her face.
The two of them begin discussing something I don’t understand, since as soon as we sit down on the bench by the rink’s snack bar, I start scrolling through the sports headlines from today.
All relatively tame until I reach a tennis-related one, the article piquing my interest when I recognize Mason and Andre’s names in it and a scoring mishap that turned into a bloody fight on the court.
But then like a classic doomscroll that was bound to end in heartbreak, Pippa has a new one printed with the fresh date of this morning.
Will Ice Princess crack this time?
Pushing my phone off to the side, I try and make sense of my friends’ conversation, hearing Eloise comment about a comment Natalia shared with her.
More like offended her, she goes on to explain.
“She doesn’t understand how hard that combination is,” Elle complains. “It’s taken me years to work on it and I just can’t land it yet.”
“Don’t worry, Elle,” Naomi comforts. “She’s just jealous that she can’t smile with all those lip injections she has.”
“I don’t know,” I add, “she kind of has a point.”
Their faces shoot up at me.
“A triple lutz-triple toe loop combo isn’t that hard,” I clarify, “when you’ve been training for over fifteen years.”
“Ana,” Naomi chides me angrily.
And Elle suddenly looks embarrassed, lifting off the bench, avoiding eye contact. “Uh, I’m gonna head back to the shop. We’re a little busier today.”
When she leaves, Naomi’s staring grows borderline freaky.
“What?” I shrug.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps like she’s disappointed in me. “Why would you say that to Elle?”
Because it’s true?
Then the guilt floods through, wondering why I just said that to a friend even if it’s true. The damn Pippa article must’ve gotten to my head.
“And why have you been ignoring me?” she diverts, her brows raising in frustration.
“I haven’t,” I defend.
“Yes you have. You didn’t reply to a single one of my messages from yesterday but you had time to mingle with Emi and Sasha today, who you’re suddenly friends with?”
“Look, I’m stressed,” I can feel myself starting to snap, “I have a shit ton to study today, practice, work, and then I get to repeat that all again tomorrow. So I’m sorry I didn’t have time to respond to your texts.”
A snarky scoff escapes her mouth.
“Wow.”
“What.”
“You sound just like her.”
“Like who?”
“Violet,” Naomi blurts, chilling my veins by the clarity in her voice.
Then she lifts from the bench, stares at me with pure shame, and runs off.
And I should feel bad about it, except I don’t.
I’m pissed.
_________
While lacing up my skates on the bench inside of the women’s locker room, I hear the low snicker of a cold quartet of girls.
Feeling them drop to the bench in the aisle of lockers right behind the one where I’m still resting on, I sit in place to avoid from making any noise.
Maybe it’s wrong for me to stay and eavesdrop, but there is no level of principle when you enter this building.
And there is no loyalty that I owe to this group of girls.
Most of their conversation is pretty tame though, and at some point, I hear the rest of them bid a farewell to Natalia, and that’s when my shoulders both tense up.
Sheerin started the topic that I wasn’t paying enough attention to discern its beginning. But Tatiana’s words are ghostly clear.
“Maybe she’d land a triple axel if she spent more time with her coach than sucking all those dicks.”
“Seriously.” Sheerin snorts.
But I don’t hear Violet comment, except for the sound of her soft chuckle.
And my stomach twists. Violet controls their dynamic, that’s been a fact since freshman year of high school, which she didn’t exactly step in just now and say how fucked up it is at how they were talking about one of their very own friends.
Friends, isn’t that what they all are?
And aren’t friends supposed to be loyal to each other?
“Did you see how many followers Ana has now? Lucky bitch.” The immediate follow-up from Tatiana rips at my chest without warning, not realizing they ever paid that close attention to me.
“It’s all because of Troy,” Sheerin replies matter-of-factly. “Everyone knows that.”
“I hope they don’t qualify for the Games.” Tatiana groans. “I’d die.”
When the sound of expensive skates scurry out of the room, I finally lift to my feet, ready to go meet Troy on the ice for practice, feeling disoriented and at the same time completely shattered by the conversation that wasn’t meant for my ears, when a glimmering blonde shadow steps in front of me, her gaze in shock like a thief who was just caught.
An apologetic emotion rests in Violet’s eyes. But it’s entirely fake, the way her whole golden girl persona has been built by the skating world to be.
And it’s chilling—the truth is.
That no one here is safe. Even your closest friend is your enemy…what’s the saying?
Right.
The only way to burn a bitch is to become one.