Kombucha and Pepsi (Chris Sturniolo)

Two

November 23rd

I've got my hair into a slick dark ponytail that swishes with every bit of movement. I stand in front of the mirror in just my leotard, coating my eyelashes in waterproof mascara. My eye bags are hidden under layers of concealer and my lips aren't chapped anymore. I cap the mascara wand and slide out of the bathroom, pulling up a pair of sweatpants off the floor and hopping into them as I walk. I swing my puffer coat over my back, and sling my skates over my shoulder, the laces tied together. I grab my phone and wallet and my key card, and slip on my Crocs, leaving the room.

I hurry down the hallway, the tread on my Crocs eliminated, sending me to the ground. I pick myself up, jamming my thumb into the elevator button, ignoring the carpet burn on my elbow. My phone is dinging with threats from my coach, and I know he's standing at the arena with the look on his face that he always has when he's annoyed with me.

I tap my foot in the elevator, only sort of listening to the music in my Beats, with one side of the headphones on my ear and the other behind, folding the cartilage forwards a little. The doors ding open, and I slip out, speed walking across the lobby. The clerk at the desk gives me a look and I give her an over exaggerated smile. Im jealous of the people at the breakfast buffet, but there's no time for even a muffin and I'm out into the Uber my coach called as quick as I can and send him a message saying I'm on the way.

He sends me a middle finger emoji and I click my phone off and lean my head back. I hold my skates in my hands, messing with the guards on the blades. The driver's got the radio on and with both my music and the radio music playing in my ears is driving me crazy, and I try to filter the pop song humming through the car out and do my best to focus on the Lana Del Rey playing in my ear. The car stops outside the arena, and I dash out, thanking the driver before slamming the door shut. I scurry into the arena where Coach Connor stands, tapping his foot impatiently.

"We only get a rink for so long Venus, let's go." He scowls.

"I'm going, I'm going." I grumble.

"I don't need sass, Corrum." He snaps, and I move it because he never uses my last name. Seth Connor, aka the biggest pain in my ass, aka my coach, is the best figure skater I know. He was really good until he threw out his knee and couldn't skate anymore. When he got better, he was past his prime or something and turned to teaching those skilled enough to get to waste his time. Or so he says.

I pull my laces taught and stand, folding my sweatpants and placing them on the end of the bench, leaving my belongings on top. I glide into the centre of the ice, stretching my arms over my head. Coach leans against the boards, shouting at me. I skate over and smile at him, he responds with a scowl. "Yes coach?" I ask, digging my toe pick into the ice.

"Your comp is in three days, and we only get to practice today and Saturday. Comp is Sunday, and you can spend Friday how you like as long as it's responsible, okay?" He explains.

"Okay," I nod, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hand.

He squints at me, "what time did you go to sleep at last night?" He interrogates.

"I went up at eleven," I say.

He glowers at me, "Venus."

"I went down to the lobby at like two, I went to bed after." I look away.

He grabs my chin and inspects my face, "I can tell." He lets me go, "Venus, you're a gorgeous girl, and gorgeous girls need sleep. I get it, staying up is fun, but us girls and gays need beauty sleep, and you are slaughtering the idea of it. Do better."

I nod, "yes coach."

He rolls his eyes, "okay, go." He waves me away and starts the music to my routine. I skate away and get into starting position, taking a deep breath and clearing my head, the only thoughts aloud in are those relating to what I'm currently doing, that's all. It's corny, sure, but it really is just me and the ice out here. And Connor if I let his shouts worm through the barrier I've put up in my ears. I wait for the note, and take off, skates shredding the perfectly smooth ice.

Practice lasts three hours, and it mostly consists of perfecting a single move that sends me into the boards countless times, resulting in a frustrated scream from me and Coach. The only other skate time scheduled today is a family skate, so Coach pushes me until I've perfected it, which just so happens to be when the Zamboni is pulling onto the ice. My chest is heaving as I glide off and my baby hairs stick to my forehead, I feel gross in my leotard, and I can't wait to get back to the hotel and peel it off of my skin. I slump against the bench the hockey players use and squirt water into my mouth as Connor fits on my guards and loosens my laces.

He pats me atop the head, "you need a shower."

I pull off my skates and slip into my sweats, "thanks." I grumble, fitting on my Crocs. I throw my coat under my arm and my skates over my shoulder.

"You shouldn't do that with your laces," he points at the knot in the middle of my shoulder, and I flip him off. He takes my water bottle and walks with me as I scowl at the exhaustion that currently lurks in the corner of my eyes and the tips of my fingers. "You've got nothing for the rest of the day, what's the plan?" He asks, typing through his phone in search of an Uber.

I shrug, "shower and then TikTok probably." I press my cool knuckles to my hot cheeks.

"Screenager," he murmurs, and I elbow him in the ribs.

Yay new chapter! I hope you liked ittt

Take care my lovelies you deserve it

-EVIEREENIE