Fighting for the Edge by Comeaux Jennifer

Author:Comeaux, Jennifer [Comeaux, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Astraea Press
Published: 2013-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Why, oh why, did our first practice at nationals have to be scheduled in the evening?

I circled slowly around the Savvis Center ice, trying to put mind over matter. The matter being the queasiness in my stomach because I hadn’t been able to eat dinner yet. Only a few early arrivals to nationals week watched from the stands, including Mom and Dad, and Mom sharply observed every tentative stroke I took. I’d hoped to wait and tell her my news after the event so she wouldn’t hover over me the entire week, but I suspected she was going to start asking questions soon.

Chris skated to my side and took my hand. “You’re not gonna throw up on me, are you?”

“I think I’ll be okay, but no more spins.”

“We can do the footwork sequence.”

I nodded and swallowed a couple of times, clearing the sour taste from my throat. “We have to practice at night again tomorrow. I want to kill whoever made this schedule.”

We finished the forty-minute session by doing our footwork and our spiral sequence, two things that wouldn’t make me dizzy. Skating over to Sergei behind the boards, I gave him a little smile but he looked too anxious to return it. He’d been wearing the same tense look every time I stepped onto the ice.

“You’re usually one of the most relaxed coaches at these practices,” I said, taking my warm-up jacket from him. “If you keep looking this nervous, people are going to notice.”

Sergei’s jaw relaxed and he sipped from his cup of coffee. “I might need to spike this with vodka from now on.”

“There was a coach at my old rink who did that all the time,” Chris said. “For different reasons I’m sure.”

I zipped my jacket over my black body suit and exited the ice behind the three other teams in our practice group. A small group of spectators had gathered in the section of seats next to the skaters’ entrance, and they held out their programs and other paraphernalia to be autographed. I needed to get food pronto, but I didn’t want to blow past the fans who’d showed up to such a late practice.

“Hi.” I smiled at the first young woman in line. “Thanks for coming out so late.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She passed me her spiral-bound program and a pen. “I flew in today and I’ve been to all the practices.”

“Where’d you fly in from?” I asked as I signed my name next to the black-and-white photo of Chris of me.

“New Orleans.”

My head shot up. “Did you make it through Hurricane Katrina okay?”

“I was very lucky. Just some minimal damage to my house.”

An older woman squeezed next to her along the railing separating us, and a powerful whiff of sweet, flowery perfume engulfed me. It turned my already weak stomach upside down, sending a surge of sourness into my throat.

I shoved the program and the pen at Chris. “I have to go.”

With my hand clamped over my mouth, I rushed through the tunnel backstage and barely made it to the trash can.

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