Page 63 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

Her body no longer trusted itself.

When she had skated with Lev, there had always been someone there to catch her. And now all alone every movement rested entirely on her own body. Moreover, it felt wrong, like trying to walk after forgetting where the ground was.

Still she kept hoping that maybe by summer, Lev would recover, maybe they would start training again, slowly, maybe they would apologize to each other or maybe everything would somehow become normal again. But deep down, in the quiet place where she never lied to herself, Alisa already knew: the Olympics in 2026 were over. They would never have enough time to build a new program and relearn trust.

So at five-thirty every morning, while the rink was still dark and nearly empty, she put on her headphones and stepped onto the ice alone.

Music filled her ears, usually it was something orchestral, aching and grand, and she let her body move without thinking. She stopped trying to skate for points or judges or quotas. She skated because something inside her still needed to speak.

She let the music pull her across the ice in long curves and sudden turns, her blades carving pale white lines into the frozen surface.

And then she jumped, fell, jumped, fell, doing it over and over again.

After nearly three hours without stopping, Alisa finally stepped off the ice trembling with exhaustion. She was starving, so hungry her hands shook and her vision blurred at the edges.

She pushed through the gate of the rink, headphones still around her head, the final notes of Ludwig Göransson — Can You Hear the Music (Oppenheimer) playing softly into the empty hallway.

Someone grabbed her shoulder and Alisa screamed and spun around, heart leaping into her throat.

Standing behind her was Arkadiy Orlovsky. He wasn’t her coach, he had never even liked her much. Arkadiy trained mostly boys and singles skaters, future champions with brutal discipline and impossible standards. He and Pike had argued for years about methods and about whether a skater should be built with tenderness or broken and remade stronger.

Alisa immediately frowned, pulling one earphone away.

Now he’ll yell at me, she thought. He’ll say I distracted his athletes, that I have no business being here alone, that Pike has completely lost control of her strays.

But the look on Arkadiy’s face was serious and intent. And what he said next made Alisa forget how to breathe.

“Alisa, right? You’re on Valentina Dragunskaya’s team? You skated with Lev, and now you’re recovering?”

Alisa only nodded, listening so intently that her heart began to pound harder beneath her ribs.

“I’ve noticed you,” Arkadiy said, leaning one shoulder against the boards. “The way you skate alone… your improvisation touches me every time I see you on the ice. I don’t know how you do it, but there’s something in it.” He smiled, and his dark green eyes flashed with interest. “I happen to have room for one more athlete, and when I saw you training alone, I thought maybe this was my chance to steal you for my team.”

Alisa stared at him, stunned, her lips parting before she could stop herself.

“M-me?” she stammered, even pointing a hand toward her own chest, as though she still suspected he meant someone standing behind her.

“Well, yes, you, Alisa.” Arkadiy’s smile only widened. “You lack confidence in your jumps when you skate alone, but that’s normal. After pair skating, you have to learn how to trust yourself again. Returning to singles isn’t easy, but it’s possible.”

He turned suddenly toward the ice and shouted across the rink.

“Higher, Axel! Lift the knee! Better! And watch the edge, Sasha!”

A boy of about fourteen pushed himself into the air again, his body spinning so fast that he blurred for a second before landing cleanly. A quadruple jump. Alisa watched with a small smile, the first real smile in weeks, as the boys kept flying across the ice, falling and getting up and trying again.

Then she looked back at Arkadiy and frowned slightly. “But… you only coach boys, don’t you?”

He returned his attention to her, leaving the skaters to continue on their own for a moment. “Mostly, yes,” he admitted. “But I know you can jump quads too, and I only coach athletes when I see the potential in them to win gold, to reach something higher.”

Alisa pressed her lips together, trying not to smile too obviously. Did he really think that? Did he really believe I still could do things?

Then she nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I’d be glad if you took over my training, Arkadiy Andreevich.”

She lowered her head politely, but Arkadiy only smiled and held out his hand to her. Alisa took it, his grip was warm and firm.

“Then welcome to the Olympic team. Can you make it to the second practice at eleven?”

“Yes, of course,” Alisa said at once, and suddenly she was smiling so brightly it almost hurt. Something bloomed inside her chest, like the first snowdrops breaking through frozen ground after a long winter, reaching stubbornly toward the sun.