“Fiona had a fever this morning, so I told Mack to stay home with her.” Egg digs into the bucket of sudsy water in front of him and pulls out a part for some machine in the snack area. “God knows I didn’t have anything else better to do while I was waiting on you.”
“Sorry my education is so inconvenient for you.”
“A necessary evil.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“She went home after her last private lesson this morning. I told Midori I’d give you a ride home since I have Mack’s car.” Egg dries off the piece and holds it up to the light to make sure that it’s clean. “Go change while I put the soda machine back together. What? In between classes, I work at the campus pizza shop. Got my food handlers’ card and everything. Gotta have a plan B if I don’t get this skating job, because I’m not going back to college in the spring.”
I give him a look. “Whoa.”
“Which is why I am staying with Mack and not at my parents’ house. They will not be on board with this. I might as well pull the plug on this failed experiment before Tech kicks me out. I don’t have the grades to keep my pity scholarship anyway.” Egg screws the machine back together with unnecessary force. “Don’t get me wrong. I want to go to college and get a degree. Eventually. But I want to do it on my terms. Not somebody else’s. I need to start looking out for number one for a change.”
Erika’s question from lunch haunts me.
“Do you ever regret having all of your eggs in one basket?”
Egg scrubs another piece of the soda machine for so long, I start to think that he didn’t hear me.
Finally, he looks up at me and says in all seriousness, “I don’t know yet. It depends on how this audition goes. Working at a pizza shop in Phoenix for minimum wage isn’t exactly a sexy plan B.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“Sorry. This is my problem, not yours.” Egg strips off his gloves. He pulls a computer bag out from underneath the counter. Egg digs around and then places a large pile of twenties on the counter.
“Motivation, not pressure.” Egg slides the bills toward me. “Now you can take Jonah to the movies next weekend and buy him some popcorn. Maybe even candy. Be a normal teenager, since I never got to be one.”
I laugh. It’s the three-quarters mark of the short track season. The likelihood of Jonah being able to go to the movies next weekend with me is about as likely as him eating candy.
“Take it,” Egg insists, and I slide the pile of bills into my backpack. “I need you on the ice and warmed up in thirty minutes. Twenty would be even better. And we need to talk about that triple-double-double.”
“It’s fine, Egg.” I’m glad he can’t see the bruise on my hip.
“You haven’t landed one yet, Livy. And you haven’t landed the throw triple lutz cleanly yet either. Let’s take it out of the choreography? It’s not really showcasing me anyway. I’ll pull one from past footage and put it in.”
He’s right, but pride won’t let me take it out. “I’ll land it tonight. Every element that we didn’t nail last season needs to be in the new piece. We have to prove the haters wrong.”
“Are you sure your hip is up for that?”
“It’s fine, Stuart,” I say, though I catch myself rubbing my hip.
“I hope so, because we’re skating until Ernie and Crystal come in at five thirty to prep for Open Skate. Then we’ll take a dinner break and strategize until the rink closes. Your mom said as long as you are home by one, she’s cool with you skating really late.”
“No problem.” My feet beg to differ, though. I hope I have enough moleskin to make it through the night.
* * *
Once upon a time, there was a figure skater who didn’t blink an eye at six hours of practice. I’m not sure where she went.
“Please take it down to a double-double-single instead,” Egg says when I crash into the ice yet again.
“No,” I growl and pull myself back to my feet. My hip feels like it’s on fire. “I’m fine. Cue the music again.”
“Seriously, Livy, you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up. Let’s face it. You hit the Puberty Wall last season. Hard. You’re going to have to relearn everything with your new body and new center of gravity. Nobody expects you to land a triple-double-double tonight. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s my audition.”
“I expect me to land a triple-double-double tonight. And I will land one tonight if it kills me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Egg grabs my arm as I start to skate away. “Okay, we’re done for tonight.”
“I’m fine, Stuart.” I jerk my arm out of his hand.
“No, you’re not. And you are so stubborn that you are going to permanently injure yourself. You’re tired. I’m taking you home. Take a hot bath. Ice your hip. Sleep. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow, and we’ll get in a couple of hours of practice before the rink opens to the public.”
I want to protest. I want to cuss Egg out. But I don’t have the energy. I want to take my cramping back, blistered feet, and bruised hip home and curl up in the fetal position for the next three days. I bite my lip to keep the sob of desperation inside me.
How did I do this day after day? How was this my normal?
Once upon a time, I did occasionally have one of these types of practices where nothing seemed to go right. Dad would pull me aside, dry my tears of frustration, and give me a hug.
“One time, Livy. One time clean and I’ll call a Code Peach,” Dad would whisper in my ear. “Can you do it?”
I’d nod and use Dad’s Ice Dreams jacket to dry my eyes.
“Then grab it and growl, tiger.” Dad would give me a final hug to balance me and then send me back out on the ice.
“Livy? Olivia? Hey.” Egg waves his hand in front of my face. “You went blank there for a minute. I thought you were about to pass out.”
“Can you give me a minute to figure things out and then we’ll call it a night?”
Egg yawns. “Figure quickly, please.”
Egg enters the men’s locker room as I loop around the rink one last time. I pull up all the memories I have about Dad coaching me on a triple salchow–double toe loop–double toe loop. I walk through it over and over in my brain. Why isn’t it working? I keep popping out too early on the triple, which doesn’t give me enough momentum to make the first double clean much less the second one. I either make a sloppy, two-footed landing or under-rotate and hit the ice.
What are you afraid of? Grab it and growl, tiger. One last time. Then we’ll call a Code Peach.
I push off the ice and dig deep, trying to find the last bit of energy stored in my aching muscles. I align myself for the triple-double-double. I don’t have the strength left to control it, so I let it go instead. I throw all of my energy into the combination I know my muscles still remember how to do.
And. I. Land. It. I whoop.
“What, what, what!” Egg sprints out of the locker room clad only in his sock feet and skate pants.
Part of me is mad that Egg missed it. Another part of me wants to keep this small triumph to myself, at least for tonight.