Podium Finish by Beth Pond

Author:Beth Pond [Pond, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Astraea Press, LLC
Published: 2013-12-23T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Alex

I want to be numb, but when I’m not skating or running on the treadmill in the hotel’s fitness center, all I can think about is my fight with Dad. He didn’t speak to me the rest of Wednesday or at all today. The only reason I know he didn’t go home like I told him to is because of the hate texts I got from Margo about how Dad missed her regional orchestra concert because he was out here with me. She called me selfish, which makes no sense because one, I don’t want Dad here, and two, her wanting him is selfish too. Hypocrite. She’s the spoiled one, not me. Besides, Dad has missed lots of things that were important to me too. He almost didn’t make it to see me win gold at Junior Worlds two years ago because his super-rich, crazy-cat-lady client was going through a crisis and threatened to pull her house off the market if he didn’t drop everything and come see her. He almost missed his flight because of it. Margo just needs to learn to deal. My Olympic season is more important than the regional youth orchestra concert she gets chosen for every year. If it were up to me, though, Dad would be with her, because knowing that he’s still here but hasn’t apologized is stressing me out.

I tap the button on the treadmill to increase the speed. If the rink is my second home, treadmills come in third. Thud. Thud. Thud. My arms pump ferociously at my sides. The faster I go, the clearer my head gets. Running is the only thing that can totally silence the bad song that’s been playing in my head for the past two days, the “I think you need a new partner” remix by Funk Master Greg Abrams.

Thud. Thud. Thud. The treadmill belt whizzes underneath me. I’m running as fast as my legs will carry me, long powerful strides. Thud. Thud. Thud. And soon, Dad is as distant of a memory as one of my old skating costumes.

Ace comes and stands on the treadmill next to mine but doesn’t turn it on.

“We’re competing tomorrow. Don’t you think you should give it a break?” He has to speak louder in order to be heard over the sound of my sneakers thumping against the spinning treadmill belt.

I guess a rhetorical question is an improvement over him flat out telling me what to do.

I hit the emergency stop button. Cold sweat pours down my face and arms, pooling on the belt below. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I called your room, and there was no answer. Called your cell. No answer. So I thought I’d try here. Besides, you’re a creature of habit. Where else would you have been at this hour?”

I pull my phone out of the pocket on the treadmill console and hit the power button. Sure enough I’ve got one missed call from Ace. Nothing from Dad though.

“Sorry. Didn’t hear it. Must have been in the zone.

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