She glanced toward the athlete cheering section where she’d watched Mara and Lindsey race the skiathlon. She couldn’t make out individuals, but it was full.
Was Mara watching her race today? Or was she resting and preparing herself for her next event? That would have been the responsible thing for Mara to do, and Mara was responsible.
But Kirby was going to medal today. She could feel it. She was hungry for it. And most importantly, she wanted to do it in front of Mara. She wanted Mara to see her make the podium.
Would Mara be happy for her? Or jealous? Frustrated?
Who could say? But Kirby wanted her to feel something,anything,about it.
The qualification race ended, and Kirby searched through the results board for her fellow teammates.
Jordan had placed twenty-fifth, so she would move on to the quarterfinal heats. Brandilyn’s time had put her at thirty-first.
Kirby’s stomach dropped. To be so close and miss out was devastating. Brandilyn had been expected to easily qualify. She found Jordan and Brandilyn in a hoard of skiers being shuffled around. They were hugging. Brandilyn was laughing but had tears on her cheeks.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Brandilyn said as Kirby wrapped them in a big joint hug. “I fucked up and bobbled a turn. I’m fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Brandilyn was young. She had such a huge career ahead of her. She would hopefully have many more chances at racing in the Olympics, but the sprint was her best event. It had to be shattering.
That was a trademark of the Olympics, though. High highs. Low lows.
Coach Wu moved Jordan and Kirby toward their area with stationary bikes to keep their muscles warm and physiological state primed until the quarterfinal heats, and a handler usheredBrandilyn over to her parents. Brandilyn was limping a little. As her parents enveloped her, Brandilyn really started to cry.
And Kirby felt like crying too. What a terrible, wonderful, terrible thing they put themselves through. For it all to come down to slightly less than three minutes of racing, a few tenths of a second, and 1585 meters.
Mara had shown up. She’d watched Kirby’s qualification round. Then the quarterfinal.
Kirby had come first in her quarterfinal heat. Jordan had come in third in her heat but had snagged one of the lucky loser qualifying spots by having the best time among skiers who didn’t place first or second.
Rumors had started to pop through their phones and gossip channels about an injury, but Mara tried not to speculate. Brandilyn would be okay. She had to be. Mara was superstitious about injuries. She pretended like it was an impossibility to be taken out by one.
The men’s quarterfinal heats took place after the women’s and Apollo got second in his, so he was moving on to the semifinals. It was a bit of an upset. The exhilaration and noise from the athlete spectator zone was insane.
As Kirby lined up for her semifinal heat, the tension in the crowd ratcheted up. Kirby shook out her arms and adjusted her sunglasses. They were the black ones Mara had bought for her. They’d never talked about it. Kirby had never mentioned it.
Mara’s heart rocketed into her throat. She felt sick. She wanted Kirby to do well. She cared.
She really, really cared.
And in the past, she hadn’t. Or, maybe, more truthfully, she had hoped Kirby wouldn’t succeed. She had wished poor times and upsets on Kirby as punishment for that thirty-k mess four years ago. It wasn’t very nice, but it was her truth.
Now, it was terrifying to care so much about an event she wasn’t even freaking racing. She didn’t like it.
Mara was frozen with her eyes on the large screen showing the skiers sprint up the hill, arms pumping. She willed Kirby to go faster. Faster.
She wasn’t going to make it. She wasn’t going to qualify for the finals.
Lindsey was next to her, even-keeled as always.
“I don’t think I can watch this,” Mara whispered. She almost never came to races that weren’t her own. There were too many emotions as a spectator. It screwed with her calm. She needed zen.
“It’ll be close,” Lindsey said, focused on the screen as Kirby powered into the stadium in third.
“I’m going to go.”
Lindsey glanced at her sharply. “What?”
But Mara was already making her way through the crowd. She hurried to the exit. Heard the cheers as skiers crossed the finish line, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the results board.
