But if she thought about the care Mara had shown her, about how Mara had acted so out of the ordinaryfor Kirby, she would start to think and wish and hope for things that were definitely off the table.
“Weaseled your way into the team sprint after all?” Kirby said. Mara had offered during that interview, but Kirby hadn’t taken her seriously. What she’d said about skiers needing different things was true. Maradidski better if she had timeto prepare. If she stuck with a schedule and routine of race, recovery, rest, repeat.
“Yeah,” Mara said with a shrug. She changed stretching positions, so self-possessed and fluidly elegant.
“You didn’t have to do that. If you felt some obligation because…” They weren’t alone. The coaches were milling around. She couldn’t say why Mara might have felt obligated, but the flash in Mara’s eyes showed she’d caught Kirby’s meaning.
“I don’t feel obligated. I was the best option. I just made sure the coaches understood that.” She spoke with such unbelievable arrogance.
“I don’t want you to risk your legs for the fifty.”
“You don’t need to worry about my legs, Bonham,” Mara said pointedly. “Worry about yourself.”
“That’s enough, Mara,” the head coach, Coach Redman, said, not looking up from his notebook. Coach Wu winked at Kirby from behind his back. “We have to practice the exchange. Kirby you’ll anchor.”
And that was what they did. Kirby didn’t have much choice.
No, that wasn’t true.
She could have argued it. She could have claimed that she deserved to race with someone she had chemistry with, who she felt comfortable with. The team sprint was a team effort between just two skiers. They needed to be in sync, to trust each other.
But after practicing their exchange a few times, no one would have believed they didn’t have racing chemistry.
They’d never raced the team sprint together. By the time Kirby had come up and earned her spot in the team sprint, Mara had dropped the event.
Mara loved the sufferfest of endurance and distance. She excelled there. But as she zipped around the track at about seventy-five percent effort, Kirby couldn’t deny that she still hadit. She still had that sprint instinct and muscle memory locked in.
And their exchanges were seamless. Smooth. No friction or issues at all. It was honestly frustrating. They could have been dominating in the event for years.
After practice they found themselves alone in the locker room once again. Mara didn’t look up as she changed.
Kirby finished dressing first and watched Mara meticulously fold and put every piece of training gear and clothing away in her bag. She was so particular.
She had her sunglasses up on her head. A new pair that were pastel blue. They fell off her head and bounced across the room when she bent down to take off her socks.
Mara flinched and froze.
Kirby picked them up and examined them, déjà vu hitting her hard. She remembered silver sunglasses falling to the floor in her Oberhof apartment. She remembered carefully placing those glasses on top of Mara’s head. “They’re fine.”
“Okay.”
Kirby tried to hand the blue sunglasses back, but Mara just stared at them in Kirby’s palm.
Kirby didn’t know how to fix their relationship. Or if she should even try.
She set the glasses on the bench, and Mara grabbed them.
“Thank you,” Kirby said.
“For what?”
“For racing with me.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I could choke.”
Kirby considered her for a long moment. “You might.”
“Thanks.”
