Oh my God. I cannot believe it. This just cannot bethePolina I had posters of as a kid in my room back home.
“I just completed a triple Lutz,” I counter. “You can’t pull that off without technique.”
“I did not say that you had no technique, rather, that it is no good. Listen to me when I tell you something.”
I blink. Multiple times in a row.
“Communication and openness are two important prerequisites between trainer and student,” she continues. “If you want me to get you to the Olympics, you are going to have to trust me.”
Trainer and student? Hold on a second…
“You’remy trainer?”
“On the condition that you trust my abilities. When I tell you that you are unable to do something just yet, I don’t want to hear you respond that that’s what you’re doing already. I want you to see that and for us to work on your weaknesses so hard until there aren’t any left. That’s the only way it’s going to work, you hear? I demand discipline and ambition. In return, I will belong to you unconditionally and will bring you all the way to the top.”
Polina scrutinizes me for a moment before continuing. “You’ve got fire, girl. What a lot of figure skaters lack is in your blood. You can learn technique, not passion.” Her eyes get caught on the swelling on my face. It’s like she can see right through Aria’s makeup. “It won’t be easy. A lot of sweat, a lot of tears. Which is why I want you to answer a single question, right here, right now.”
I nod.
“Are you strong enough for this?”
My hands unfold as my fingers seek out a handhold on the side of the rink.AmI strong enough? There were times in my life when I could no longer remember what it felt like to be happy. I was broken. Maybe I still am. The truth is, I don’t know how much power the past still has over me. Every day it feels like it will grab hold of me again and drown me in its swamp of awful memories. And I know, deep inside, there, where nothing is good anymore, I’m still fighting with that swamp.
But that’s the point, isn’t it? I’m fighting. Despite its strength I’ve never given up. And in order to drive it off, I have to create new memories. Better memories. The kind that will warm my heart and allow me to feel happiness. Aspen gives me the feeling that I can find it here. The ice is all I need. It’s keeping me alive.
“Yes,” I answer at long last and look right into Polina’s eyes. “I am strong enough.”
7
Breathing in Snowflakes
Paisley
Dear God, my legs! What is this? I’m nothing but pudding. A pudding in the making. Stirred to a nice creamy consistency.
With a groan I toss myself onto my bed, spread out my arms and legs, and decide never to move again. This here will be the rest of my life. Just the bed and me. Forever in intimate togetherness.
Do you, Paisley Harris, take Aria’s bed to be your lawfully wedded partner for life? To love and to cherish, in sickness and in health?
I do. God, yes. I do.
My eyelids grow heavy. The dreamcatcher above me begins to lose shape. I feel my blood pulsing through my veins. It’s like the mattress is a magnetic field, pulling me to itself.
The training center in Minneapolis was a joke compared to what I had to do today. I was on the ice until noon, and it felt like Polina had something to say about every single one of my moves (“Pull in your leg! It’s flapping about like an old rubber hose!”). I did manage to spend my lunch with Gwen, Levi, and Aaron—they are so incredibly nice to me and took me into their circle right away—but I’d hardly gotten my avocado sandwich down when I had to get back to the fitness program. And at its finest.
Now, it’s almost six and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.Tired… So tired… Just a little bit…
David Bowie’s “Starman” is ringing in my ears.
“Mmm.” I roll onto my stomach and pull the pillow over my head. “Not now.”
But my phone won’t give up—it drones on continually. Without opening my eyes, I reach out and run my hand over the nightstand before finding it. I turn my head to the side and sluggishly attempt to make out the name on the display.
It’s Gwen. We exchanged numbers during lunch. I press the green icon and put the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Oh. You join the mafia or something?”
“What?”
