Nothing felt right—my timing was a fraction too slow, my edges not quite deep enough, every landing just shaky enough to rattle me. I under rotated two jumps, and instead of doing a triple axel, I did a double, which was a big no-no.
Most of the mistakes were little, barely noticeable to anyone else, but I felt all of them. By the time I stepped offthe ice, I knew I had done horribly. The scores just reinforced that.
Gritting my teeth, I stepped off the raised platform in the little alcove and headed back toward the side room where my stuff was. I heard Keira’s name being announced, which just further pissed me off.
She went and messed with my head, and then stepped out onto the ice like the perfect little princess she claimed to be. I shouldn’t have let her get to me, but I did. I knew better after all these years.
I could sit here and claim it was all Keira’s fault, but it was also mine. I was letting the pressure get to me. The need to be perfect. To show that I wasn’t some washed up athlete who should have retired. I wanted to prove that I still had more in me.
Frustration burned hot in my chest as I sat in a chair, bending over to unlace my skates, fingers tugging harder than necessary. It didn’t help knowing Mateo, my dad, and all of Mateo’s family had just watched me fall apart out there.
I exhaled slowly, staring down at the scuffed leather of my skates.
I had tomorrow. One more chance to remind everyone I was Emmie James.
My phone saton the chair, screen lit up, messages waiting to be replied to from over twenty-four hours ago. I’d ignored them all since yesterday. I couldn’t bring myself to reply, not yet.
Today was the final day of the competition, aka the long program. Instead of a two-minute routine, it was four. Theypurposely added the day after the short to test skater’s stamina. You wanted to do well in the short, but the long program was really where the points mattered.
So, I ignored my phone. I didn’t need distractions. I turned the screen off and tucked it back into my bag.
I was back in the side room from yesterday, but this time, it was full of skaters. I stayed tucked in my little corner, music playing in my ears, stretching as I waited for my turn.
Sixth place. The number circled my head like it was stuck there, refusing to let me forget it. I flexed my fingers at my sides, trying to shake out the restless energy buzzing under my skin. Normally by now, I’d be locked in. Focused. Untouchable. But today…I wasn’t.
Yesterday's mistakes replayed in my mind, followed by the feeling of disappointing everyone. Mateo, my dad, Erin, Marcy. I needed to show her years of coaching me wasn’t all for nothing.
Skaters trickled out of the room, the wait time longer than yesterday, which just made my nerves skyrocket even more. At this point, I really just wanted to get out there and get it over with. The wait was excruciating.
By the time Marcy appeared and called my name, I was a ball of anxiety. As I headed to the door, I found my head turning to look over my shoulder at Keira. I didn’t even know why I did it. She was already staring at me, a smirk playing on her lips as she waved her fingers at me.
Walking to the ice was a blur. Whatever Marcy said went in one ear and out the other. One second, I was about to step onto the ice, and the next, I was getting in position. It was like all of the sudden my thoughts weren’t my own, too wrapped up in all the feelings threatening to drown me.
I had wondered if I would break during the season, maybe the time had finally come.
When the music started, I let my body take over, theroutine engrained in every fabric of my being. But as I pushed off the ice, blades cutting through it, my mind wasn’t in it. It was almost like I was a passenger in my own body as I went through the moves.
I jumped where I needed. I twisted my body, pretty much a puppet in a pretty dress. When I went to do my triple axel and stumbled on the landing, almost falling but catching myself at the last moment, I knew it was over.
I knew there was no way I was making the podium—possibly not even the top ten.
I finished the routine. Waving and bowing like I always did and pasting on a pretty little smile to hide the emotions underneath.
Roaring filled my ears as I stepped off the ice, taking my blade protectors from Marcy, not hearing a thing around me. I sat there in a daze as the scores came up. Sixth place, but by the end of Keira’s routine, I was in tenth. So far from where I should be.
The rest of it passed in a blur. I barely remember the interview—something about an off day, another competition before the Olympics. The words came out automatically, like I’d said them a hundred times before. Maybe I had.
By the time I changed and followed Marcy out to the car, I was running on autopilot. I nodded when I was supposed to, murmured agreement at the right moments, but none of it really registered. My phone buzzed from its spot in my bag, but I left it where it was.
There was only one thing stuck in my head.
On repeat.
Disappointment.
I draggedmy feet up the stairs to my apartment, each step heavy. I was grateful the competition was held in Austin, Texas this year, so after being interviewed, Marcy and I got a quick flight home. While it wasn’t long, my body felt like it had just gotten off a thirteen-hour flight.
Marcy had dropped me off with a demand to sleep and take a few days off. She was going to be happy to know I had zero plans of getting out of bed for the foreseeable future.
