I’m not fine. I haven’t been fine since yesterday.
Since watching Laura fall. Since seeing the judges' faces. Since she walked away from me with tears streaming down her cheeks and I couldn't do a damn thing to fix it.
I finally gain control of the puck, and fly down the ice as fast as I can, ignoring the tight knot in my chest from not speaking to her.
I tried texting her last night. Called twice. Nothing.
Radio silence.
This morning I finally got a single message: I’m okay. Just need some time.
But she’s not okay. Not even close.
I know exactly what she’s doing right now. She’s spiraling. Picking herself apart. Telling herself she’s not good enough, that one mistake defines her. Comparing herself to her gold-medal-winning sister and convincing herself she’ll never measure up.
It kills me, knowing she’s sitting there drowning in those thoughts when they aren’t true.
“Hendricks!” Coach McKibbon’s shout slices through my head. “You planning to join us today, or just skate in circles?”
“Sorry, Coach.”
I force myself back into the drill, and push myself harder. I skate faster, and try to focus, but it doesn’t work. Laura’s face keeps flashing through every play. The way her voice broke when she said she'd fucked it up, the way her eyes looked hollow and broken, the moment I realized nothing I could say would fix it.
I dig in, sprint harder, and even though my lungs burn, nothing shakes the feeling loose.
By the time Coach blows the final whistle, sweat is dripping down my neck and my legs feel like lead. I’m exhausted, spent, and still no closer to figuring out how the hell to help her.
“Hendricks, got a minute?” Coach calls as everyone starts heading off the ice.
“Sure, Coach.”
I skate over to him at the bench where he’s standing with a clipboard tucked under his arm and his eyes fixed on me with that look—the one that says he sees straight through whatever bullshit excuse about my performance I’m about to offer.
“You want to tell me what's going on?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just an off day.”
“Right.” He doesn't believe me for a second. “How'd the audition go yesterday?”
My jaw tightens. “Not great.”
“Your girlfriend didn't get it?”
“No.” The word comes out harder than I mean it to. “She was incredible. Her voice was perfect. But she fell during the routine. Judges said her skating wasn’t at the level they needed.”
Coach is quiet for a moment, then he claps his hand on my shoulder. “That’s rough. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah.” I study a beat-up patch of ice near my skate. “Me too.”
“And, hey.” He nods, then jerks his chin toward the tunnel where Erik is still half-dressed in his pads, goofing around with the freshmen. “If our ratings drop any lower, I’m gonna need you and Erik to moonlight as the entertainment between periods. Something flashy enough to keep the cameras interested and save my job.”
I snort despite myself. “Yeah, I’ll let him know.”
“You do that.” Coach claps me on the shoulder and starts walking away. “Might save me from the wrath of my daughter every time she’s forced out there as an Ice Girl.”
He’s halfway to the locker room when something clicks.
An idea.
