It’s never made sense to me why under rotations are penalized so harshly. Doubles were standard jumps not that long ago. Now you under rotate on a triple, and you get nothing to show for it.
Maybe I should tell her that, but instead I ask, “Got any plans?”
Alex stops short and I end up walking a few steps ahead of her. I turn back to find her hands bawled into fists and her shoulders tight. When we were kids, she’d get so tense her shoulders would go up past her ears.
“Really?” She growls before crossing her arms.
I shrug, “I meant like, visiting your boyfriend or I don’t know—” She stomps away from me and I chase after her. “Oh, come on! I can’t have you pissed off at me too!”
I chase her to the elevators, where she’s pressing the up button rapidly. She stops once I run up beside her. I push the button for her, but it still takes a moment for the elevator door to open.
“You should head back. I’m sure everyone is missing the champion.”
“Fuck that,” I roll my eyes. I wait till we’re in the elevator to tell her, “They already told me to change my program.”
She looks up at the mirrored ceiling. “Bitches.”
“The costume specifically.”
She shakes her head, a toothy smile spreading across her face. “Fucking bitches.”
The elevator dings, and I follow her back to her room. Its walls covered in tiles with a large bathtub in the center. The bath is already full of water and small lily pads. Alex is looking up at the ceiling, and I follow her gaze, expecting to see mirrors or some other Fishfolk accommodation, but there’s nothing spectacular about the tile ceiling.
There’s a whimper. Alex pouts, her eyes all scrunched up, and I realize she’s trying to keep herself from crying.
“Hey, it’s okay…” I wrap her in my arms and she breaks, covering her face with her hands before pressing her face to my chest. She’s saying something but it’s too muffled for me to understand. I take a note from Maude’s book and rub her back.
“You’re still the hottest bitch on ice.”
She lifts her head, makeup smeared but that somehow makes her more captivating. “Please,” she blubbers. “You take that title…”
“I’ll wear it with pride.” I hold her makeup smudged hands. “But seriously, Alex, Worlds will be in two months.You can make the whole Olympic Committee regret not picking you then.” I give her another hug. “And I’m going to miss you so fucking much.”
She pushes on my shoulders and I release her, even if it hurts my heart. She wipes her cheeks with her palms. “I’m not going to Worlds.”
“But you have the scores—”
“Roderick, fuck! Would you let me talk?”
She glares at me, her tear and makeup stained face making her look all the more severe. Not sure if I’m allowed to respond, I nod.
She reaches back behind her, struggling with the zipper. I get behind her and unzip the dress, letting it fall to the floor. Still wearing underwear, she gets into the bath where she sleeps. It’s not the first time we’ve hung out like this. Getting into the bath is the Fishfolk equivalent of putting on sweats, and getting cozy under a blanket. I grab the chair and bring it to the side of the tub.
Alex soaks with her lips and nose under the water. I wait patiently. She shoots me a glare every time I open my mouth, even when it’s to yawn. Finally, she sits up, gazing into the algae water like it’s a crystal ball.
“I hurt my back when I was training in Russia.”
“I never would have guessed,” I say but looking back, her technical scores have been the weakest they’ve ever been. All that angst and drama in her routines might have been her working through the pain.
“When I left, I still felt like it had been worth it because I met Zina.” She pulls her legs to her chest. “He was always so attentive and sweet… Turns out he does that.”
My heart sinks like a stone dropped in the tub. Injuries can heal with rest and time. Broken hearts are a bit trickier. “Did he cheat on you?”
She shrugs. “Probably. But it doesn’t matter. He broke up with me before the Grand Prix. Maybe because I was only an alternate. He always paid more attention to me when my scores were good.”
“What a fucking weirdo.” I’d hoped she’d laugh at that but she swishes the water around, sending bits of algae into a vortex. “Christos and I don’t talk about that stuff.”
Finally she turns to me. “Scores?”
