I nod. “Yes, I was explaining to Jonah yesterday why I call Stuart ‘Egg.’ When Stuart was … er … conceived, he got his own egg. Steven and Scott’s egg was fertilized and then split in two. So technically, those two are twins, but Stuart is as genetically different from the two of them as their older brother, Patrick.”
“Are we really going to talk about reproduction at lunch?” Naomi says with a nervous giggle.
“We can talk about sex all you want,” Brandon says with all the social grace of a sledgehammer.
“Lord, help us,” Erika says to the ceiling, as she tends to do at least once a week at lunch.
“I almost forgot.” Brandon digs in his backpack and pulls out a small plastic box filled to the brim with cookies. “In today’s Test Kitchen: Decadent Double Chocolate Chip Cookies.”
Naomi and Erika squeal in tandem and take two. Brandon swings the box toward Jonah.
“I don’t do simple carbs,” Jonah says.
“They’re really good.” Brandon wiggles the box. “I used both milk and dark chocolate chips.”
“No, thanks.”
“Those look amazing.” I put one on my napkin.
I break off a chocolate chip and let it melt on my tongue. It’s all I can do not to wolf down the rest of the cookie along with several others. I can’t remember the last time somebody made me cookies. Certainly not my mom.
Show some self-discipline, Olivia! You are a professional skater. Sort of.
I take one bite and then make myself put it back down.
“And taste amazing. Thanks, Brandon,” I say, and Brandon beams. “I’m going to save mine for later.”
I wrap up the cookie in a napkin. I’m going to have to find a trash can on the way to English class to discreetly drop it into. My body is changing too quickly now that I’m only training a few hours each day. My butt, in particular, has gone rogue. Maybe Mack is up for some Goodwill shopping this weekend. I need more jeans.
“Are the Trout Triplets coming back into town for Thanksgiving?” Erika takes another cookie.
“No, Virginia Tech is in some big bowl game or something Thanksgiving weekend, so now Mr. and Mrs. Trout are going to Virginia instead,” I say, remembering Egg’s epic text rant about this archaic tradition being forced upon him. “Egg is coming back for winter break though.”
“Ah, the talented Trout Triplets,” Erika says wistfully. “Scott and I are still friends, but he never comments or likes any of my posts anymore. Meanwhile, Steven totally ghosted me. I’m like, dude, don’t make me post pictures of you from my second grade birthday party. It’s like they are on this whole different plane of existence now.”
“They’re skaters like Stuart?” Jonah says.
“No, football players,” Erika says.
“Professional?”
“Not yet. Tech gave them both a full ride though, so they must be important.”
“Virginia Tech gave Stuart a full ride too,” I say in Egg’s defense.
“I hope they come back for winter break. You let us know, Olivia, since you have an in with Stuart. He might have the four-one-one on a party or something.”
“Sure,” I say, though I have no intention of doing so.
“So what’s the answer to number four?” Brandon waves his chemistry packet at us to refocus our attention. “I’ve got PSAT prep class tonight. Gotta get this junk done.”
Just like yesterday, the rest of us work on homework while we eat. Meanwhile, Jonah picks at his lunch of chicken breast with brown rice and broccoli, his headphones on, never cracking a book. And again, it’s Jonah and me who are last at the table after the bell rings. He pushes his blue, top-of-the-line headphones down around his neck and closes his plastic lunch container.
“Am I the only one not impressed by the Trout Triplets’ fame and glory?” Jonah says under his breath. “They’re just college football players. How special is that?”
“Egg doesn’t play football.” Since Brandon already left for English, I leave the cookie behind on the table.
“Still.” Jonah shrugs. “Is Stuart coming back in December to be your partner again?”
“No. I’m helping him with an audition for a skating job.” I slide on my backpack and head for the door.
“But you are looking for a new partner, yes?”
“Yes, but it takes a while. Football players are a dime a dozen. Competitive-level male skating partners are harder to find than unicorns.”
Which is why Britney Freakin’ Xiao has tried to “buy” Egg out from under me three times now since he and I became a pair. Most recently after watching our crash-and-burn performance at Skate Detroit this summer. Skate Detroit. The tuna sandwich in my stomach threatens to come back up.
“You two have so much potential, but you can’t seem to get your footing at the senior level,” the USFSA representative said after our performance. And, as she had previously threatened to do, added, “The USFSA regrets that we will not be able to fund your training this season. I’m sorry.”
I cried for a solid week after Skate Detroit. Egg told Tech he changed his mind about deferring a year, and my parents signed me up for high school. Meanwhile, Dad hit the road with Olympians on Ice for a reunion tour. He’s still a big draw after all these years. Dad is boy-next-door handsome and funny and does great “back in the day” interviews at every tour stop. Middle-aged skater moms who dreamed of being his partner once upon a time routinely throw themselves at him. Gross.
“Don’t worry.” Jonah holds the cafeteria door open for me. “You’ll be back on the ice again soon with a new partner.”
I’m glad one of us is confident about that. “It is kind of nice to talk to someone who gets it. Our weird lifestyle.”
“We’re not weird. We’re special. Everybody else is boring.”
A warmth spreads in my stomach. “Yeah, we are. You and your carb phobia are extra though.”
“Says the girl who drooled all during lunch and yet only took one bite of one cookie before leaving it behind.”
Busted.
“I’ve been lax with my training recently. Time to get serious again.”
“Speaking of which, thanks to you, Dad told me to start skating to Ice Dreams after school now. It’s mid-October. Why is it still so hot here?” Jonah might be complaining, but there is a smile across his face.
“Welcome to hell, aka Phoenix, Jonah. This is nothing. Wait until July. That’s a whole other level of hot. Meet me in Room 102 after school today. Morinaka-sensei lets me store my rollerblades in her class during the day.”
“You take Japanese?”
“Yes. Not that I ever have a chance to practice it. Mom’s Japanese is about on the same level as mine. We try to speak Japanese with my grandparents, but it’s so frustrating, we usually end up switching to English after about five minutes. Do you speak Korean?”
“Nope. I went to Korean Saturday school for a little while during elementary school, but then I started skating. I didn’t have time for both. If I think about it, I might be able to spell my name. Maybe count to ten. Dad has a couple of favorite words he says when I’m skating. Those might be swear words, though.”