“Oh. Okay. Maybe.” Jonah looks at the flier a little closer.
I shrug. Whatever. “Did you need something? I’ve got work to do here.”
“Do you ever feel like your parents are watching you?” Jonah nods at the line of giant posters of my parents in various skating costumes that extend from the snack bar area to the skate booth and beyond.
“You get used to it.”
“Is this you?” Jonah points at the framed picture closest to his side of the skate counter.
“Yeah. And my partner, Egg.”
“Egg?”
“Stuart, but I call him ‘Egg.’”
“Do I want to know why?”
“Stuart is a triplet. His brothers are identical. He is the single,” I say, and Jonah looks confused. “He got his own egg.”
Jonah still looks confused.
“Look, I’m not explaining reproduction to you. Pay attention in biology or google it or something. I started calling him Egg back in the beginning, and it stuck.”
“Oh, okay. Were you any good?”
“Well, there is a medal around my neck in that picture. And in this one. And this one. And, oh look, in this one too.”
“Then why’d you quit?”
“Who said I quit?”
“You said you weren’t sure when your next competition is. The Olympics are in February. Shouldn’t you be out convincing the Olympic Committee to pick you instead of making plans to go to a roller derby bout?”
I step back like Jonah has punched me in the face.
“C’mon, Jonah. We’re on the clock.” Mr. Choi slaps Jonah on the back and then pushes him toward the locker rooms. Mr. Choi doesn’t realize how much his voice carries in our now-empty rink. “I know you’re lonely, son, but we’re here to train, not to find you a girlfriend. Focus.”
Mom snickers as she hands her well-worn skates over the skate counter to me. “He’s here to train, Olivia. Don’t be a distraction.”
“He came over here to talk to me, not the other way around. It’s not my fault he has focus issues.”
“True.” Mom tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and smiles. “And Mack needs to keep a professional distance too. We don’t want to give the Chois anything else to complain about.”
Subtext: We can’t afford to lose another client.
* * *
I think we’re both relieved when Mr. Choi is the official lap counter for the day.
When I take a break later—after Jonah takes his egg-eating break—I pull out my phone and text Egg at Virginia Tech.
How’s it going?
Less than a minute later, he texts me back a GIF of a dumpster fire.
Overly dramatic much?
I wish I was exaggerating, Livy. College life as the third wheel of the Trout Triplets Freak Show got old about Day 3. People are like, “Oh, you’re the brother who DOESN’T play football.” And then they give me a pitying look.
We were the freakin’ World Juniors Pairs Champions!!!!
Yeah, that doesn’t help me at parties. AT ALL.
Come back to Phoenix then. I’ll let you scrape the gum off the tables at Ice Dreams with me and everything.
Normal life going that well for you too?
I don’t know how to answer that. Our last disastrous performance together at Skate Detroit is still fresh in my mind.
I’m fine. School is fine. Mack is fine. The rink is fine. My mom’s back … not so fine. As always.
Mack says you have a prom date.
I drop my phone.
What?!?! We met yesterday. I wouldn’t go to Sonic with him for a Slushee, much less prom.
Tell Matchmaker Mack that she can’t marry you off yet. I need your help soon.
Boy, bye. To both of you. What do you need?
Your dad sent me an email about openings in the corps next summer with Olympians on Ice. I need to make an audition video over winter break.
Are you sure about this?
Yeah. If it means escaping from Football-is-King Land, I would gladly skate with a snowman costume on, be a tree, carry your dad’s luggage …
No, I meant skate with me.
Yes! That’s why I want to shoot a completely new video instead of piecing together a highlights reel from our past performances. I want to get out of the shadow of our last couple of competitions. I want them to see the new-and-improved version of me. The more mature, artistic version of Stuart Trout.
My heart clenches. I look at the picture that Jonah admired earlier. World Junior Pairs Champions Kennedy and Trout. Back when we were on top. Back when leveling up to seniors was the natural choice. Back before my body betrayed me and my whole life came crashing down around my skates. The USFSA rep’s words after Skate Detroit still shred me.
This is the senior level, sweetheart. Raw talent is no longer enough.
What if it’s not enough?
It has to be. I’m not going back to Tech next fall, so I need a plan B. We can do this, Livy. Or should I call Britney instead?
I send a series of No, Nope, and Oh hell no GIFs to Egg.
Okay, then get off your ass, make me look good, and redeem yourself. And you should definitely wear the phoenix costume. The adult one not the little kid one. I’ll send you all the deets as soon as I have them. Gotta run. Bye!
The Ghost of Bad Skates haunts me all during Jonah’s skate time. It doesn’t help that Mr. Perfect just broke his personal record according to his dad, who is yelling that piece of news to everybody in the nearly empty rink. I run my fingertips over the laces on my skate boots. I can’t wait until Jonah’s practice is over. I want my ice back. I want my normal back. My favorite little skater, six-year-old Lina Kitagawa, comes in at six thirty but that still gives me time to practice solo for a bit. Lina is my favorite because she doesn’t care about being an Olympic skater. Her mom doesn’t question my coaching techniques. Lina can’t do anything more complicated than a waltz jump and a scratch spin, but she loves it. You can see it on her face. I want to find that skater in me again. Then maybe I can be the new-and-improved version of me.
Mr. Choi’s whooping interrupts my brooding. “That’s it, son. One more time. Just like that.”
I can see Jonah’s smile all the way over here. He gives himself a fist pump and a “Yeah!” I know that feeling. I miss that feeling. Is it 5:00 p.m. yet? I want to go find some of that.
Chapter 3
Taking Brandon up on his invitation, Jonah gloms on to our lunch table again the next day. He slides in across from me and my tuna-and-cucumber sandwich. I prefer PB and J, but I have to squeeze back into the phoenix costume in a few weeks.
Jonah looks me in the eyes. Challenging me. “Stuart is dizygotic, while his brothers are monozygotic.”
Brandon, who sits next to me, flips his lab paper over. “Where does it ask that? And how do you spell it?”
“It’s not on the homework, Brandon,” I say.
“Then why are we discussing it? What’s the answer to number four?”
“Are you guys talking about the Trout Triplets?” Naomi pulls out her lunch, a bento box with rice on the bottom and some fried chicken pieces, cherry tomatoes, and kiwi slices on top.