“Gay?”
“Well, yeah.”
“She is the defending gold medalist in the thirty-k. She’s the only American cross-country skier to get a gold in Beijing. Kirby is flashy.” Heat rose up her neck.
Mara had learned Kirby was lots and lots of things. Flashy was just one of them.
“You’re flashy. You dress like… that.” Her dad gestured at her pale-yellow sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. His opinion of it was quite clear in his tone.
“Yes. I have a sponsorship deal with this brand. Because I like wearing these colors.”
Compartmentalize. Deep breath.
“You should be getting more interviews, Mara Louise. More than her.”
It hadn’t taken long to be first and middle named. As much as her dad tried to be a coach, he always reverted to dad voice eventually.
“I am.”
“With who?”
“The usuals, Dad. It’s fine. I don’t like being interviewed. I’m happy with what has been arranged.”
Well, she wasn’t happy with the way the interview with Janette Collins had gone.
Except she kind of was happy with it.
It was complicated.
Kirby had been right that it had felt good to let loose. To stop hiding her true thoughts and feelings. And Kirby wasn’t holding back when it came to talking about Mara.
“The narrative should be that you’re?—”
“Stop it.” She shook her head, one quick jerk, and her dad’s mouth snapped shut. He seemed shocked, and Mara felt a short, sharp pulse of happiness at that.
A mom and her preteen daughter walked up right at that moment with an athletic bag for Mara to sign. They were American. The girl, Avery, had a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her head that looked like the ones Mara had broken during training.
“Did you get your sunglasses here in Predazzo?” Mara asked as she signed the bag. “I broke a pair this week and need another.”
“You can have these,” Avery said, much too eagerly, and practically threw the glasses at Mara.
“Oh, no. That’s not what I meant.” She had honestly just been trying to make small talk. “Here.” Mara took the permanent marker and drew a tiny heart on the inside of the earpiece of the sunglasses. “Think of me when you wear these and are going really fast.”
They were a favorite brand of most cross-country skiers, and Mara could have tossed a stick and hit a store with them in stock.
The girl stared at the heart and seemed to get emotional, which Mara was not equipped to handle at all.
“Who’s your favorite skier?” Mara blurted out. It was a question her agent had taught her to ask when she had to chitchat with fans. People usually saidMara Maybecause it would be rude not to say your favorite skier was the skiing superstar right in front of you. But preteens didn’t always have their social etiquette dialed in because Avery didn’t miss a beat. And she did not say Mara May.
“Kirby Bonham.”
Mara blinked. Her dad’s mouth dropped open. The girl’s mom closed her eyes briefly.
“What?” Avery said. She peeked back at her mom, seemingly confused or maybe defensive about everyone’s reaction. “Kirby has a gold medal. And she wonGenius Academy.”
A laugh bubbled its way out of Mara, and she couldn’t swallow it. She would never escape Kirby. “Of course she did.”
The young girl’s mom also laughed, a bit nervously perhaps, but still a hearty chuckle.
