“I was so surprised to see you and Stuart here this morning.” Britney side-eyes me while I line my lids with Mack’s glittery eyeliner. “I heard you two quit skating after Skate Detroit. ’Cause, you know, that last performance.” Britney adds a dramatic cringe. “Ouch.”
Not today, Satan.
“You, of all people, should know better than to listen to the gossip.” I tap a little red glitter over top of my bloodred lipstick. “Don’t worry. Team Kennedy/Trout is stronger than ever. You’ll see.”
“You know Stuart texted me about being his partner.”
“Yep. But you were in London and couldn’t get back in time to film with him. It’s okay. We worked out the problem, fixed the choreography, and here we are.”
“I didn’t get a text while I was in London.” The corner of Britney’s mouth pulls up in a sneer. “But Stuart and I have been texting each other off and on since Skate Detroit.” Some people club their opponent in the knee, Britney’s preferred technique is a knife to the back. “Stuart is the one who suggested I audition for Olympians on Ice.”
I clasp my hands together to keep them from strangling Britney. And then Egg.
“What can I say? Washed-up skaters don’t have a lot of career choices.” I keep my words measured, but everybody is looking at us, their phones at the ready in case a good catfight breaks out. “I’m just here to support my partner and make him look good. Then it’s back to training for the Olympics for me.” I hop off my stool and throw my gear into a locker. “I hope you have a good audition, Britney. Who are you skating with again? I can’t keep up with all your partner changes.”
“Nathan Vedders.”
I do a dramatic cringe. “Ow.”
More than one person in the room snickers. I hold my head high and own this performance. I slam my locker closed and strut out the door in all my glittery extra-ness.
Egg intercepts me outside of the women’s locker room.
“Sign this.” Egg is channeling his inner chipmunk with the amount of protein bar crammed in his cheeks.
He points to a couple of specific places on the paperwork that he already filled out for me. Before he can race back off, I grab his arm.
“Since when are you and Britney BFFs?” I say, and Egg gives me a puzzled look. “According to her, you two have ‘been texting each other off and on since Skate Detroit.’”
Egg snorts.
“It was three texts and a quickly deleted inappropriate drunk text selfie. Her selfie. Not mine.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you fell for the oldest trick in the book. Your performance earlier must have rocked Britney to her very shallow core for her to overcompensate so much and drill down into your insecurities. My God, I just used my Psychology 101 class in real life too! I guess I did learn stuff at college.”
Egg throws an arm across my shoulders. “So, though I am flattered to have two lovely ladies fighting over me, I’m happy with the partner I have. Also, I would partner Mr. Egotistical Choi before I would partner Britney Xiao.”
“Thanks.” I wrap my arm around Egg’s waist and close my eyes. “I gotta get back into the Skater Bubble with you. No distractions. No drama. No regrets.”
“And we will do that.” Egg peels me off him. “After I deliver these papers back to your new BFF Faina.”
* * *
I clap politely after Britney and Nathan’s performance. It’s not bad. Especially for someone who has a stick up her butt. It’s not gold medal material, though.
“Couple number seventeen, you may take the ice,” the announcer says as Britney and Nathan do a cooldown lap.
I don’t care if maybe ten people, including the judges, are watching me. I pretend like I’m at the Olympics.
“Grab it and growl, tiger,” I say, kissing my fingertips, and smack Mom and Dad’s poster for good luck. Egg does the same.
“One last request,” Egg whispers as we walk hand in clammy hand to the boards. “I want you to kiss me at the end. For real.” I recoil. “Hear me out. I want you to kiss me so that one day when somebody does kiss me for real, I’ll know exactly what it’s not supposed to feel like.”
“Hey, I haven’t had any technique complaints from Jonah.” I remove my skate guards.
“Just like today, Short Stuff, it’s not about technique.” Egg grabs my hand, and we skate out to the middle of the rink. “It’s about the passion and the commitment behind it.”
“You got it. Now let’s get it.”
We take our opening pose. Britney Freakin’ Xiao yawns. My heart pounds though I’m standing still. My whole body buzzes with adrenaline. I will my hands to stop shaking. I look at the judges. It’s do or die. No regrets.
When the music starts, I hear an “oh” echo around the rink. It causes a genuine smile on my face. They were expecting Alexei’s phoenix number. They have no idea what is about to come out of the ashes of our previous skating life.
The music fills my heart and vibrates every cell in my body. I let it all go, allowing my body to move around the space with no limitations. I skate my love letter to Jonah. And. We. Nail. It. Every lift. Every jump. Every spin. Egg and I are in perfect synchronization. Egg loops me around him in the lowest death spiral of all the couples today. When I come back up, we press together for our final spin combo. Three … two … one. Egg jams his toe pick into the ice to slow our rotation. I close my eyes and picture Jonah’s face as Egg dips me back for our final pose. Egg’s lips press into mine with passion and commitment. Someone in the rink whoops as we sell it to the cheap seats. When Egg rights me, I glance over at Britney. She puts down her phone after probably recording the whole thing. Good. I want her to remember that skate.
“Annnnnnd?” I say under my breath as Egg and I take a bow.
“Nope. Nothing. But your skating was awesome.” Egg’s now red, glittery lips part in a triumphant smile.
“Fair enough. Wipe your mouth.”
“Couple number seventeen, approach the judges’ table, please.”
Egg laces his fingers through mine, and we skate in front of the judges’ table. We have so got this. Especially since the old man in the middle of the table—who looks suspiciously like Stan Lee—is smiling at us.
“You are Mike and Midori’s daughter?” the man says.
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought so. I’m sorry.” The man rips my headshot in half.
My yelp echoes around the silent rink.
“Olivia,” the man continues, “I would sign you up in a heartbeat. I will sign you up in a heartbeat. When you are out of high school.”
“Please. I can do this. My parents will sign off on anything. I don’t care about school. I can get my GED or do online school or whatever,” I say, but the man continues to shake his head. “Send us out on my dad’s tour so he can be legally responsible for me. I’ll skate in the corps. I’ll be the giant snowman. I’ll deodorize all the skates. I’ll carry luggage. Please let me do this. Please.”
“I’m sorry, Olivia. Honestly, I am. If you had an Olympic medal, I might be able to work something out, but you don’t.” The man pulls out a small golden case from his pocket and slides one of his business cards across the table to me. “If you want to be in the corps, come back and audition again after you’ve finished high school.” When I reach out for the business card, he puts his fingertips on top of the card and looks me in the eye. “Or, if you want to be a headliner, go after that Olympic medal first. I know that’s not what you want to hear today, but one day, you’ll thank me.” He removes his fingertips so I can take the card. “Now then, Mister … um … Trout, I presume you’ve already graduated from high school.”