Page 110 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

“Well, partially. You might see some choreography excerpts today. Just don’t copy them.” Anfisa giggled and got up at the same time as Alisa, both of them bouncing lightly in place as they warmed up.

“I promise I won’t steal it! I’m a good girl.”

“Oh, that’s for sure. The best.”

They nodded at each other, and after the warm-up, the ice was already shining perfectly, waiting for them.

Arkadiy came to the boards with Dana; they were drinking coffee and talking quietly while watching the rink.

Alisa began her warm-up routine, still with time before full training. She planned to fully warm up her body with jump preparations and element drills.

“Alisa, let’s start with a triple axel, then try a quad entry,” Arkadiy called out as she passed in front of him.

She pointed upward, her thumbs up, in acknowledgment and skated toward the jump section, while the other half of the ice was reserved for choreography work. The men were also training jumps and, as always, Alisa was right there with them.

She went into the triple axel and landed it cleanly… well, sort of.

“Messy! Again!” Arkadiy shouted immediately.

Alisa let out a frustrated growl, did a few more triples, then moved into spins and preparation steps before trying again.

This time she rotated, landed and nearly fell backward, catching herself awkwardly onto the other foot at the last second to regain balance.

A dull, unpleasant ache shot through her legs.

Yeah… definitely not my day either.

Alisa shook herself slightly, trying to reset. Arkadiy’s expression stayed serious as ever. She simply nodded and went back into the entry again.

* * *

At night, Alisa woke up from a terrible pain in both knees, a dull, gnawing ache that felt as if invisible cats were raking claws through the joints. She clenched her jaw hard to keep from crying out, curling into the blanket and squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the wave to pass.

Unfortunately, it happened like this twice a year, always during seasonal shifts, when the weather turned colder and her old knee injuries started “speaking” again. Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes weeks, and she had to go to training on painkillers twenty-four seven just to exist, not even to mention skating.

Alisa growled softly into the dark room. The moon outside was absurdly bright, cutting through the curtains she had closed before bed, spilling pale light straight into her eyes as if it had something personal against her tonight.

Why is it so bright today…?

She pushed herself out of bed, movement stiff and reluctant, like her left knee simply refused to accept reality. Every step sent a sharp reminder through her legs.

“Perfect timing… just perfect timing, right before the internal qualifiers, blyat’,” she muttered under her breath.

She pulled the curtains wider and stood there for a moment, staring at the moon as if it might answer back, trying to breathe through the pain.

Her left knee had been injured years ago, when she was six. Not from skating, not from anything dramatic really, it was just a stupid accident at school during physical tests, when she slipped while running a short distance on a hidden stone and fell hard, tumbling across the ground. She remembered the sting, the shock and the scraped skin… but at the time it had seemed like nothing. It faded after a few days.

She never even told her parents properly. She didn’t want to worry them.

But then, months later, it came back. And then the other knee joined in, as if it had decided to participate out of spite. Two knees at once. That was when the pain stopped being something she could ignore.

Doctors came and went with diagnoses that sounded almost insulting in their seriousness—arthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, words that felt too heavy for something happening to a child. It was absurd. It still felt absurd in hindsight. But at the time, she just took the pills, did the exercises, cried through training, and came back onto the ice anyway.

Because there was never really another option.

Now, she paced slowly through the apartment, trying to outwalk her own body and trying not to think too much about moving. Eventually she grabbed her phone.

Fuck, no signal again. Of course.