Chapter Twenty-One

brYAN

W e have one minute before the warm-up is over. And Katya’s about to ruin everything.

We’ve been working on more complicated lifts in practice lately, ones where I have to hold Katya nauseatingly high up in the air while she contorts her body into a bunch of different positions that I’d break my back if I tried to do. And it’s mostly been working. Right now, she’s a little busy threatening to drop onto me and kick me in the back of the head on the way down.

This whole trip has been a nightmare. I already knew she’d try to get me pissed off, so I should’ve just kept my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have gotten riled up when she was talking shit before we got on the ice. I knew the second I shot back that it’s a miracle she hasn’t been banned for drugs yet that I’d be in for it.

“That’s not funny,” I hiss up at her as we glide across the ice, maneuvering around the other skaters as we all run through our choreography in one last desperate practice before it’s our turn. If you’d told me when we first started this that my arms wouldn’t be about to fall off in the middle of a lift every time we tried one, I wouldn’t have believed it. But, against all odds, my “limp-noodle arms,” as my partner so affectionately called them that one time, have gotten used to lifting her whiny ass all the way above me and keeping her there, not to mention chucking her into the air and catching her as she falls.

No big deal.

Only now, Katya’s refusing to talk to me, unless it’s to yell at me. And on top of that, she’s trying to make us both fall.

She doesn’t answer, just squirms a little more, and her weight shifts just a little bit more onto my left side.

“Stop moving,” I demand, and she responds by moving more . I can feel my blades wobbling, and when I feel her lean to the side, panic seizes. If I fall, she’s dropping ten feet with no one to catch her.

“This isn’t funny, Katya, stop!”

“What’s going on over there?” Lian calls from the boards as we whiz by, turning back from where she’s been talking with Juliet and the Canadian coaches. I can’t answer, I’m busy straining every muscle trying to counteract whatever Katya’s doing.

“What’s wrong?” she taunts. “Can’t keep up?”

“Katya, you’re going to—”

Before I can finish the sentence, one of my blade edges catches a rut, which usually wouldn’t be a big problem, except I’m struggling already between Katya making it harder to keep my balance and also taking up half my attention, so it’s too late to do anything when I trip forward. My life flashes before my eyes, but all I can think is, she’s going to break something , so at the last second I’m able to throw my body the other way, so instead of flying way over my head, she lands on me, and I break her fall.

It all happens so fast. My butt collides with the ice, and Katya’s entire body weight drops onto my chest, our legs going everywhere, blades flying, both of us sliding a good few feet across, and the other pairs have to swerve to avoid a nasty collision. The Japanese girl trips over the Norwegian guy’s leg, and she sprawls out on the other side of Katya. It’s total chaos.

I can hear people screaming, but the sound is muffled like I’m underwater. I can hear Lian’s commanding voice over the mayhem that’s erupted in the audience. But I can barely register it, my head foggy and dazed, vision blurry and wavering.

I can’t breathe , is all I can think for a second. Oh my god, I can’t breathe . I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Katya rolls off me and scrambles to my side.

“Bryan!”

I lean my head back, hearing the blood rushing into my head, the freezer burn of the ice the only thing I can feel. I think I might be about to throw up. I think I’ve broken a rib. I can’t tell. Oh, god, oh god , I have to get up, we have less than thirty seconds left in the warmup, if we don’t get off the ice we’ll miss our skate, or hold up the entire competition, or be disqualified—

“Bryan! Bryan, wake up! Look at me!” I feel someone touching my face, shaking my shoulder, or maybe I’m already shaking. I haven’t been concussed since I was fourteen and training quads for the first time, but it didn’t feel like this. I can’t feel much of anything.

I can shake it off. It’s fine. I’m imagining it—I can’t move. I’m completely in shock. All I can do is hold my breath.

“ Bozhe , someone help him!” I half-open my eyes, and I see a cloud of fiery hair, but the only thing in focus is the utterly terrified look in the big grey eyes that are usually filled with hatred.

I feel arms pulling me up under my shoulders, a swarm of faces and voices going in and out.

Someone claps in front of my face, and the shock cracks open. Reality rushes back in.

“I’m fine,” I say. I say it, over and over, until people start turning away, content that I’m not on the verge of dying. The Norwegian team helps the Japanese girl up, and she doesn’t seem hurt either, so everyone’s a little more relaxed.

“That could’ve been bad,” I hear Logan Bergeron’s voice remark from behind me.

“What even happened?” Emma asks, sounding a little suspicious, and if I were even remotely fully conscious I’d be freaking out, try to laugh it off, but I can’t. I barely catch Logan’s response over the blood rushing in my ears.

“No clue.”

“Skaters, the warmup has now ended. Please exit the ice.”

I blink a few more times. I have to get up.

It takes me another second to realize there’s a medic crouched on the ice next to me, checking me over. I have no idea what he’s doing to me, but I’m still too out of it to care. Lian’s on my other side, still in her street shoes. She must’ve run out here.

“Young. Are you good to keep going?”

She isn’t freaking out. Everything is fine . I look up at her, starting to breathe normally again. “Uh, I…I think. Yes,” I say, a little more confidently, nodding. “Yes.”

“Excuse me.” I turn to see Katya stepping out from behind Lian. “Um…they said we can go after the Croatians instead of before if we need to,” she says, voice uneasy and small. She’s staring at my arm, face white as a sheet.

It takes me a second of trying to process what just happened before I finally glance down at where she’s looking. Streaking down my bicep is an angry stripe of red against my skin, where Katya’s skate blade must’ve caught me on her way down.

I don’t even really feel it. I just stare at it.

And then the anger—and the searing pain—hit me like a ton of bricks. Lian probably sees it come onto my face before I can even open my mouth, and she hisses, “Hold it in for five freaking seconds, Young, for my sake. Please .”

Lian never says please. So I do. I keep my mouth shut, jaw clenched tight, practically breathing fire, the medic unraveling a roll of gauze and wrapping it tight around my arm. We wait for him to finish before I slowly get up, Lian supporting me.

We pass the Croatian pair as we get off the ice. “Thank you,” I remember to tell them, and they smile.

“Of course. We’re glad no one was badly hurt,” the woman says, Ivana something, and I try to smile back.

Katya looks like she’d much rather not go with me anywhere. I can’t blame her, actually. I am dangerously close to blowing a fuse.

Which is why, the second Lee’s shepherded us off the ice and out of range of anyone who could overhear, all gloves are off.

“What in the actual hell is wrong with you?” I demand, and I can feel all the blood rushing to my face and neck like I’m about to have a heart attack. “Huh?”

“I didn’t—”

“Guys, keep it down,” Lee warns.

“She just tried to kill me!” I yell, sticking my arm out for Lian to see, and in the split second it takes Katya to recover and act like she doesn’t care, I can see that she does. She looks shaken.

But of course, she just clears her throat, the ice queen persona sliding back into place like nothing even happened. Like she didn’t freak out when she thought I was hurt. Because she did. I saw it.

But that doesn’t even matter. I’m more worried about the fact that she could have just killed us both—or lost us the chance at competing at all for the rest of the season, forget this competition. I’m talking Nationals. The Olympics. Everything.

“So dramatic,” she says finally. “It’s a tiny little scratch.”

I stare at her for a second. “Are you kidding me?”

“Guys,” Lian warns again, but I’m done.

“No. That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with your insane bullshit. Have you lost your mind? We go on in twenty minutes, and you go and make us fall in front of half the world, in front of the judges, and now my arm is sliced open! What the fuck , Katya? We’re supposed to be partners!”

Right then, I wince, the cut on my arm stinging. Apparently the cut was deeper than it looked, and it’s already bled through the gauze, a thin stream running down my arm.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” is all Katya says in response, not needing to explain what she’s talking about. “You shouldn’t have.”

I just stare at her.

That’s it? That’s supposed to warrant causing an accident that could’ve ended up with both of us seriously injured? There’s no way Katya would’ve been able to get back up and skate if I hadn’t broken her fall.

She could’ve broken her neck. Jesus, I could’ve broken my neck. All because of her refusing to realize that I tried to do what was best for her.

“I’ve been telling you this since we started,” Lee says quietly, breaking our tense staring contest and bringing out the Scary Coach look in full force. “Going at each other in private is one thing. The second we put you out in front of the press, the judges, an audience, you’re going to have to act like you don’t want to burn each other alive. What the hell is going on with the two of you? You’re friends one day, and at each other’s throats the next!”

I ignore that last part, and look at Katya, narrowing my eyes at her as I clutch my arm with my other hand, trying to staunch the bleeding. “I won’t if she doesn’t.”

She stares back. She’s not having any problem pretending not to care anymore. Sometimes I think she might not care about anything. “Lian, please tell him that if he doesn’t give me a reason to, then I won’t.” And with that, she turns and storms off.

Lian doesn’t even bother stopping her. She just looks right at me. “Clean yourself up. Shake it off. I don’t want you to even look at each other until you’re out there. Channel what you’re feeling into the performance.”

Oh, I’m feeling a lot, that’s for sure. I nod tersely, but when I turn away Lian grabs me by the shoulder.

“Bryan. Do not let this shake you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m serious, alright? Destroy them first. Everything else comes later.”

I look out rinkside, where Katya’s pacing, a storm cloud over her head as she rolls her shoulders, shaking out her hands. Looking at her just makes the frustration build up in my chest. I need to stop waiting for anything different. There’s no point.

“Later,” I repeat, then exhale heavily. “Got it.”

THREE DAYS LATER

W e both skated pissed off.

I fell on the quad toe, and our artistic interpretation scores were humiliatingly low, which probably had something to do with the stained bandage dangling from my arm, not to mention the fact that we didn’t look at each other once in the entire performance. Which was probably a good thing. I might’ve decided to give my partner a taste of her own medicine.

We finished third, if only because the technical side of our free is so strong that it can withstand screwups. And it was pretty rewarding, I won’t lie. Our first medal. But it still made me sick to my stomach. Faking all the grins and hugging like we’re friends when all the cameras were on, crossing my fingers that no one at the press conference would ask us too many questions about what happened. We were insanely lucky that they were too busy grilling Logan and Emma about the drama with his ex-partner to even look in our direction.

It just felt like such bull. It felt fake . And yeah, it’s not lost on me that this whole thing has been fake and we’ve never liked each other, but it was different this time. She went too far. And standing on the podium, it was a little harder than usual to remind myself it’s worth it.

I couldn’t even sit next to her on the plane, so I had to sit squashed between Lee and Juliet, while Katya was alone in the row behind us, staring out the window. When we got back yesterday Ollie had made us all promise not to let him within twenty feet of her, because he couldn't promise not to "drag her ass all the way to whatever circle of hell she came from.” Me, personally, I’ve been content with just not talking to her.

Right. Yeah. It’s totally not still pissing me off that she continues to give me the silent treatment. I’m totally fine with the fact that, if anyone should be mad here, it’s me, not her. But when have I not been in the middle of a situation in which, somehow, I’m the one who gets the short end of the stick?

Speaking of which. Dad had another doctor’s appointment yesterday to check up on the pneumonia that keeps hounding him like a search dog. If this time it doesn’t kill him, I will. If I’m going to be his chauffeur and his doormat, I’m going to need a little more incentive for my goblin brain than the increasingly unlikely possibility of appreciation. Thank you, Bryan. You’re such a good son, Bryan . The man went to MIT, for Christ’s sake, it can’t possibly be that hard. Can it?

Who am I kidding. I have a higher chance of winning Olympic gold. Meaning, subzero.

“Me and the guys are hitting Moby’s tonight, if you want to come,” I call as we finish a training session, slinging my guards on, and Juliet laughs.

“I think I’m too old for that, babe, but thanks.”

“Not according to half the bar!”

Juliet’s laugh echoes down the hall, and she waves, walking backwards towards the exit. “Night, Bry!”

As soon as they’re gone, Katya finally acknowledges my presence, letting out a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “Oh, yes, your guys ,” she mocks. “You do know your little sister doesn’t count as a friend, right?”

Of course she waits for our coaches to be out of earshot before she starts insulting me. “At least I have friends,” I say under my breath.

“People who feel sorry for you can’t be classified as friends, either.”

I grit my teeth, forcing a snarky smile and finally looking up at her. “And where are you going tonight? Back to the shrink?”

Bullseye. She snatches her phone and the tangle of headphones wrapped around it, but not before I see how red her face is getting.

“How’d that go, by the way?” I ask, as if I don’t know her blood pressure’s rising with every word that comes out of my mouth. I know I’m being insensitive, but I can’t bring myself to care. Why should I feel bad? Katya’s made it clear she doesn’t give a damn about my feelings.

“You are such a hypocrite,” she hisses, turning back to me. “You know why?”

“No. Why don’t you enlighten me? It’s not like I can get you to ever shut your mouth anyway. You think you’ve been getting back at me by not talking, really, it’s been bliss. ” I tug at my laces a little more aggressively than necessary.

Katya steps closer, planting her blade on top of my loose lace barely a second before I get my finger out of the way. “Because you’re as screwed up as me.”

I smile. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“Somehow I doubt it, but okay, I’ll bite. How?”

“I thought you were ignoring me now?”

I glare at her, yanking my lace out from under her skate.

She tosses me a saccharine smile. “Well. Since you’re so desperate to know.” The smile fades from her lips, and her eyes grow cold. “It’s because Taylor Davis was right. You are done. You don’t even like doing this anymore. Why do you think you’ve been so awful? Why do you think you can’t land the quads unless no one is watching? Why do you think you can barely stand to get on the ice?” She scoffs. “You’re terrified. And it’s because you know that you’ll let everyone down if you actually try. That everyone will know that there’s no hope for you. Well, I hate to break it to you, but everyone already knows.”

It takes me a second to recover, my mouth stupidly open like the idiot I am.

I will not let her win. I will not let her win.

“You’re a bitch,” is all I can come up with, my voice coming out cracked and thin. “And you’re wrong. I’m not scared.” But my voice doesn’t show it, and I’m sure my face doesn’t, either.

Jesus, why do I let her do this to me? I know what she’s doing. My rational side knows full well that she’s trying to one-up me, get back at me, shake me. But that rational part is getting steadily drowned out by the screaming of every other thought in my head going, she’s right! She’s right, and you know it, you worthless piece of shit!

She laughs. Actually laughs. “Fine. I might be a bitch, but at least I’m not lying to myself.” She smiles at me, turning to leave, but it’s more like a baring of teeth. “Have fun tonight, Young. Tomorrow we will see if you catch a lucky break.”

She stops, pretending to hum in thought, then leans down to my level, my skin lighting up with goosebumps as her hand spreads across my shoulder, breath and hair brushing against my ear. My breath catches automatically, even before she whispers her next words.

“But you’re not very lucky, now, are you?”