Hoping For Snow

one

Holly

December

23 Days Before Christmas

Part of me wonders what normal people do over Thanksgiving break. I haven't sat down at a dinner table full of family and ate until my stomach hurt since...fifth grade? I think it's been since fifth grade. I've spent Thanksgiving with my family, sure, but I didn't eat until I couldn't anymore. I ate some turkey, and that was pretty much it.

I may burn thousands of calories a day, but I've never been able to bring myself to eat a lot all in one sitting. But this year, it didn't even matter, because I spent the holiday in my dorm, studying. I also spent it in the dance studio, working on my flexibility, and of course, I spent it on the ice.

I left my hometown for boarding school when I was about to turn twelve. Eastwood Preparatory Academy is where, in more recent years, prominent American figure skaters have trained. The school has special programs for figure skaters and hockey players, organizing our schedules so we have ample time to train while still having enough time to attend all of the required classes.

It was hard on my parents at first, losing their last child well before the first, but they know how important skating is to me. How important it's always been to me. Eastwood is the best place for me to achieve my dreams of skating glory, and with the Olympics looming on the horizon, it just made sense for me to stay and train.

My teammates—and by teammates I mean those I associate with the most/consider to be the most competition—stayed as well. A few of Matisse Moretti's family members surprised her by flying out and bringing Thanksgiving to her, and a few of the other girls joined her. My roommate, however, believes Mattie to be awful, so she stayed in with me.

None of us live quite close to the school's location in Minnesota, so not everyone is lucky enough to have family members fly in whenever it suits them.

I'm sure my siblings would rather spend the holiday at home, anyway. I think they look forward to seeing their friends from home more than they look forward to seeing me, but I can't blame them.

Even when I'm actually home, I hardly see them. I can't let a chance at the Olympics pass me by just because I'm not training at school, so I train at the local rink over short breaks. This year, though, I won't even be going home for Christmas. I'm staying at school so I can train.

"Holly!" Isabella O'Connor, my roommate, calls. "Let's go!"

I jolt out of my thoughts and quickly throw my coat on over my leggings and skating jacket. The third member of our trio, the loud and almost painfully extroverted CJ Morales, meets us in the hallway.

Her dark hair is tied back in a relatively neat bun (relative in CJ's terms, of course) but per usual, her flyaways frame her face haphazardly in a way that wholly CJ.

She's the energy and excitement, the positivity and light needed to keep me and Libby from being balls of stress at every waking moment of every day. I open my mouth to ask where's Matisse?

But I know that would only succeed in agitating Libby further. This emergency meeting called by our head coach has had her so tightly wound I'm surprised she hasn't snapped yet.

"What do you think Zolotov wants?" CJ asks, as if reading my mind.

I shrug. "I have no—"

"Maybe she'll kick Mattie back to Maine," Libby blurts out, effectively cutting me off.

"Libby!" I scold.

CJ snorts. "Seriously, Lib, if that girl heard you say that, you'd be six feet under by now."

I sigh in exasperation. "You guys, she's not like that. Like, at all. She's not here to trip you up, Lib, and she's definitely not here to kill anyone!"

"That's what you think," Libby scoffs. "She's here to kill my shot at winning a national title."

I open my mouth to rebuff her negative sentiments surrounding our recently resurrected teammate, but stepping outside into the icy wind effectively kills our conversation.

We focus on hurrying over to the rink as fast as possible, because the colder we are, the longer it takes for us to warm up our muscles before practice.

Luckily for us, our dorm isn't that far from our destination, so it's really only a few minutes out in the cold. We stumble into the rink lobby and head back to our locker room, shaking snow flurries from our hair as we wait for Coach Zolotov to appear. 

She's slightly terrifying, what with her strong Russian accent and unforgiving glares. She's a fantastic coach, though, so it's all worth it.

Matisse Moretti slips inside and sits down beside a few other girls on our team. "Team" is used loosely, because while we train together, ultimately we compete against each other too. We're just called a team because we're all in the same program here.

Even so, it still pains me to see Mattie avoiding our little trio, thanks to Libby's strange hostility and CJ insane theories as to why she came back to Eastwood.

I personally like Mattie, but my friends will have none of that. They rather villainize her than get to know her like I did, because it's easier to hate someone if you don't know them. Mattie and I have some things in common, so I still shoot her a small smile when I catch her eye.

"Good afternoon girls!" Coach Zolotov greets us as she strides into the room. "How is everyone?"

There's a murmur of responses from around the room before Coach continues. "Today's meeting is nothing bad, so I hope you didn't stress too much. I know a lot of you have been doing more of that lately," she says, shooting at glance at me and Libby.

"With U.S. Championships and ultimately, the Olympics approaching, we've decided that you need a break. Rest your bodies before these important competitions."

"What?" Someone hisses, and my spine immediately stiffens on the bench.

"Coach, the Championships are in a month," CJ pipes up, her brows furrowed.

"Yes, and you will train here for the next week, and then you will be on break. At home," Coach clarifies. "No exceptions."

"Can't we just stay on campus and continue to train?" CJ asks.

Coach sends her one of her disapproving looks. "No. You need a break from skating here. Go home, be with families. Celebrate holidays."

Libby's jaw is now hanging open, and I can see the panic rising in her eyes. Hell, I can feel it rising in my chest. Of all the years to just decide to make us go home, it has to be this one?

The Championships start January 6th, and how well you place there plays a factor in whether or not you're selected to be on the Olympic team.

CJ isn't showing much emotion, but I can tell from the tightness of her jaw that she's grinding her teeth in frustration. Of all of us, she has the most energy, but not the best control when it comes to elements like spins and step sequences. Power often overpowers grace in her routines, so I can only assume she's starting to panic too.

The same can be said for the rest of the team, apart from Mattie. I don't think I've seen the girl's facade crack once since coming back to Eastwood.

"This is final. We'll discuss what you can do at home on the ice, so get ready. We begin in ten minutes."

And with that, Coach Zolotov departs from the locker room. I slump against the wall supporting my back as I place my chin in the palm of my hand, zoning out into my thoughts.

Looks like I'll be going back home after all.