Page 10 of Fly Boy
“Pippa, you were early on the takeoff,” Coach cuts me off, her words creating a greater chill than the ice beneath me. “Remember, liftafterthe one, notonthe one.”
Evan slips his hand into mine again, his touch warm and reassuring as my arms shake with barely controlled rage. Me?Iwas early? Why is it never Evan? Why wasn’t Evan the one who was slower off the ice? Since this routine was choreographed, I’ve run through it every night before falling asleep and every morning in the shower. I practice it alone when I go home for the weekend. I—
“Let’s try it again, and I will count you in this time so you can hear the timing,” she adds. We get ready to set up the jump just as her phone rings. “Actually, take five, okay? I need to get this.”
She disappears down the shoot and into the locker rooms, and I snatch my hand away from my partner.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I snap. Coming to an abrupt halt, ice shavings wash over Evan’s boots and ankles. “I was fine. You were the one who was off.”
“She was going to make us do it again, regardless of who was at fault.”
I stab a finger into my chest. “But it wasn’t me.”
“Why does it matter?” He chuckles, the sound light and easy, but it slowly dies as he regards my face. Itching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Coach Camille only wants to make us better, Pippa.”
“No, she wants to pick faults in everything I do, Evan. This isn’t about making us better. This is about...” I trail off, the same damn insecurity rearing its ugly head, making me doubt everything.
His heavy exhale casts a plume of fog in front of him. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have stood up for you.”
“Whatever,” I say with a shake of my head. “I just keep thinking we need to do something different. I’ve watchedSkate Americadaily, and I can’t figure out how the Canadian team beat us. We were flawless, Evan, but still came second.” He frowns, and I push off on one foot, the blade effortlessly gliding across the ice. Chewing on my lip, I turn, letting my momentum carry me backward as I look at him. “What would you say if I said we should switch up the order of our routine? I think we should follow the triple Lutz with a triple toe loop.”
Evan swallows, his face unreadable until he barks a laugh, his blue eyes crinkling at the sides as he grins at me. “Yeah, andwhile we’re at it, why don’t we put our skates on our hands and compete upside down.”
“I think it’s what could take us from second to first place at the next competition.”
His entire face drops, eyebrows knitting together as he realizes I’m not kidding around with this. “Pippa, for that to work, we need to execute it perfectly. No mistakes. And even then, if we managed it—”
“It will get us a higher score with the judges.”
Skating to the open rink door, he walks across the rubber mats toward a wooden bench, dropping on top of it and reaching under for his water bottle. I follow him, leaning against the boards and watching as he thinks it over. Right now, our routine is strong. We know it like the back of our hand, but something inside my head is screaming it’s not enough.
“If you want to mix things up, I don’t mind changing the order, or maybe we could do a more advanced version of the death spiral. What if—”
“No,” I snap. “Evan, we need something to stand out from the others. We need something that will make the judges speechless.”
“I'm pretty sure we’ve already left them speechless, considering we brought home silver,” he says, pointing his bottle toward me with a knowing look. “If we tried that and it went wrong, imagine how pissed you’d be when we end up with major deductions rather than a 0.87 margin? Pippa, there’s nothing wrong with our current routine. If we keep practicing, keep scoring second place...”
“Second place isn’t good enough,” I shout, my voice echoing around the rink.
He rears back, his mouth turned down at the sides. “Since when?”
“Since it’s not first, since it’s not gold. We should be winning. We should be better than everyone else, Evan.Ishould be better.”
Sympathy softens his features, and a lump forms in my throat. “Babe...”
“Don’t,” I croak, swallowing hard to dislodge it. “You know we’re better than this, Evan.”
“We’ll make it to the U.S. Championships… If that’s what you’re worried about,” he says gently, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “We’ll perfect the triple Lutz and get our precision on point so that the whole crowd will think they’re watching one person. We’ll...”
“I’m not worried about the U.S. Championships,” I say with a conviction and desperation that leaves me exposed. “I know we’ll place well there. I know we will get on that podium. It’s the Olympics I want, Evan. And that means every competition counts.”
When I bring home the gold for my country, no one willeverdoubt me again.
“I know, Pippa, believe me, I know. But coming second in ourfirstskate of the season is fucking amazing.” I let out an exacerbated huff, and Evan scrubs a hand through his hair. “You just want to give a big metaphorical finger to the person who wrote that magazine article last week.”
I freeze, my fingers coiling around the edges of the boards, and for once, I am extremely grateful for the gloves covering the knuckles I know will be white.
“I didn’t see it,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders. I can feel the weight of Evan’s stare as I pull myself toward the door and step onto the matting surrounding the rink. “I just think we’re better than we give ourselves credit for.”
