Page 71 of Chasing Gold, Catching Her

Alisa asked her to put on Ludwig Göransson’s “Can You Hear the Music” from Oppenheimer, and the sound switched from her phone to the speakers of the arena.

Then she skated to the center.

At first Alisa froze in place, covering her face with her hands, and then, as soon as the music began, she slowly spread her arms with a serious smile on her face, if such a thing could exist at all, because confidence was written all over her features.

Then the step sequence began.

She picked up speed with her feet and moved across the ice in one continuous line, never interrupting a single element, not even the smallest one, because she was completely immersed in the moment, completely obeying the music, and letting her heart lead her.

Arkadiy stood behind the boards and filmed everything on his phone, so that later he and Dana could continue to work on the program, and so that Alisa herself could see where she made mistakes, what looked good, and how everything appeared from the outside.

Then she glided past the place where the judges usually sat, balanced on one leg, and then she raised the other leg high, almost into a half split, and continued to skate, cutting through the air with her hands as if she could touch it. The music was alive and daring.

Then, after only a few meters, she accelerated sharply and went into a jump, a double axel, not a triple, but that did not matter.

She kept going.

When she reached the other side of the rink, she launched herself into a triple lutz and landed it cleanly, and immediately afterward she lifted her leg high into the air again with a smile, as if she were slicing through the space around her.

Then she dropped into a spin, balancing on one leg in a catch-foot position, first holding her leg almost parallel to the ice, and then lifting it higher and higher until the position became almost perfect.

Again she spread her arms, bending backward so deeply that it almost looked like a bridge, and then through a boat position she lowered herself even farther, gliding almost parallel to the ice, so low that her fingers nearly touched it, before rising again and carrying herself into the next jump.

This time it was a triple salchow, and then two double axels in sequence, almost like a cascade, and after that she spun again, dropping into a sit spin, balanced on one leg like a pistol, before rising back to her full height and extending one leg straight upward, spinning in perfect rhythm with the music.

And then there were more steps, built not so much from technique as from emotion, and they again merged into one smooth line, as if she were a poet telling a story on the ice, and she told it so beautifully that Dana and Arkadiy could only stare at her in silence.

Words were unnecessary.

Then she stretched herself into a Biellmann position again and skated past them, past the place where the judges should have been, although instead there was only her coach and her choreographer, and they applauded her.

Finally, after the last twizzles and the small spins on different edges and different feet, she reached the ending.

Leaning low over the ice in a butterfly position, she looked as if she were almost lying on it, one leg behind the other, her body perfectly parallel to the surface.

Then she rose into one last quick spin in a Biellmann position and stopped abruptly in a final pose, like a fighter, with both arms stretched high above her head.

She was breathing hard.

But she was smiling.

Dana and Arkadiy immediately skated over to her, applauding.

“Well, it was very poetic and very beautiful, exactly what we need for a short program,” Arkadiy said with a smile.

Dana nodded immediately.

“Yes, there is still a lot we can add, but the foundation is already very good. Shall we start working right now?”

Alisa nodded with a smile.

And together with Dana she skated away to begin building her new choreography.

Arkadiy watched them with a smile from the side.

He believed in Alisa.

And that was the most important thing.