Kombucha and Pepsi (Chris Sturniolo)

Five

November 26th

I keep my eyes trained on the ice, watching the figure skater, but not taking her moves in. I can't focus on a single thing, not the girl on the ice, not Coach, not even trying to find Chris in the stands behind me. All I can do is sit here and run through my routine in my head.

 I shake my hands out and run my sweaty palms over my hair. Coach nudges me and I look at him, he gives me a thumbs up and I return in, turning back to the ice. There's a thick knot of anxiety in my sternum that's been growing since I woke up this morning. I should feel great, I'm having a good hair day, my makeup looks good, and there was no struggle this morning. I wasn't late, nothing went wrong and yet I can't shake the nausea bubbling in my stomach.

The skater folds into her end position and the music fades, the applause the arena is filled with rattles around in my head. She's scored and skates off the ice, leaving it to be flooded. The entire wait, all I can do is purge the thoughts of me landing on my ass in the middle of my performance. I shake my head, doing my best to keep my head clear.

Once the ice is back to being smooth and clear, I take one final deep breath and push onto the ice. I shake my hands out and suck in a deep breath, standing in the middle of the ice. Someone's talking over the intercom, but all I can hear is noise. The judge who's talking, the chatter in the stands, the thumping of my heart. It all blends together into an incoherent jumble.

I get into starting position and close my eyes. Music cuts clean through the clamouring, clear notes hitting my ears. It pulls me out of the anxious mess I've been in, sweeping my mind clear and dropping me in a headspace I only really get into when I complete. I don't like how I get when I skate. My competitiveness is one thing, sure, but the silence my head creates is the real bit of it I hate. I get so angry, angry with my past performances and how I look on the ice, there's really nothing I can do too except let it fuel me. I try not to talk to people while I'm in this headspace. I stare forwards through my eyelashes, the noise is blocked out, only the music getting into my ears. I wait for the note, and I push out into my performance.

Move after move, strung together to make this production, and it's going perfectly. I've landed everything, there hasn't been any hesitation or missteps, everything is going well. My negativity and anger being pinned down by my thrill. I suck in a deep breath, and cruise backwards and exhale, launching myself up into the air. This was it. This was the move. If I eat shit, I'll never hear the end of it. Not from Coach, from myself. I have people here to watch me, if I fall the embarrassment will be painful. I cross my arms into an x, and spin. Once, twice, three times. My blade hits the ice, and I stay upright, I swing my leg around and go into the air spinning three times again. I land and my leg comes around, I plant it behind me and exhale, thankful I didn't slip up. I finish off with a little spin just as the last note of music plays, and I hold my hands out with my legs crossed as I stand there, with a heaving chest as I look over at Coach. I push over to him as I'm applauded, leaning against the board as I wait for my score. I shoot up to the top of the scoreboard, sitting with a score of 219.55.

Coach's heavy hand falls to my shoulder once I slide off the ice. "Not bad," he says, and I half smile. I could have gotten a better score if I had just tried harder. Everyone does amazingly, each performance well done. Excitement builds up in my chest as no matter how well the other women perform, my name stays at the top. Part of me feels guilty for rooting against them, hoping they won't get a score as high as me, but I want to win. Like, a lot.

The metal ceremony breezes by, applause is given, I congratulate the other girls on the podium, and move to pull off my skates. Coach packs everything up and I go to change out of my leotard. I slide my feet into my Uggs as I tie the drawstrings of my pants, emerging from the locker room. I roll the sleeves of my training jacket with my last name on the back and the program I skate for on the sleeve up to my elbows and fan my face with my hands as we leave, the gold metal around my neck bounces against my chest as I walk.

I watch the skaters mill around the arena, talking with their coaches and meeting with their families coming down from the stands. I catch myself craning my neck to look for the brown-haired boy who told me he'd be here. I spot him, talking with his hands to someone next to him. I catch his eye and a smile splays over his face.

"You didn't fall!" He cheers, and that being the first thing he says to me has me laughing. He pulls on my medal, "well deserved, I see."

I grin, "thank you." The negativity runs down my back, seeping into floor from my feet, leaving my body.

I peek at the pair standing behind him and he waves his hand at them, "these are my brothers." He steps aside so I can get a look at them. "Nick," he gestures to the one with burgundy red hair. "And Matt," he smiles pointing to the other.

I stare at them, trying to figure out if I'm in some sort of paradox because these boys are identical to the one in front of me, aside from a few defining features. "Nice to meet you," I smile. They must have been the other two watching me at the arena yesterday. "I'm Venus." They both pass me a "nice to meet you too" back.

Coach plants a hand on my shoulder, "hey kiddo, we should get back to the hotel if we want to get on the road and beat traffic."

I nod and turn back to the boys in front of me, "thank you for coming to watch." I smile brightly at them, "I hope it wasn't too boring."

"Not at all," Chris says.

I sink my teeth into the side of my cheek, "it was nice meeting you."

"It was," he agrees.

"See you," I hold up a hand and follow Coach out of the arena.

 New chapter complete 

I hope you guys liked this oneee

Take care of yourselves you deserve it!

xoxo

-EVIEREENIE