Page 14 of Rinkmates

“I heard she’s tough, that’s all I needed to know to make me stand there like a deer in headlights,” Priya says.

“She is,” I admit. “But she appreciates hard work. Um…are you hungry too?” I ask, making my way to the buffet, wishing she’ll join me. I haven’t eaten in a while.

I hope she won’t judge me for rushing to the buffet as soon as I have the chance. I don’t want to admit that I’m desperate for any free food. But I am.

She bobs her head up and down, hopping off the bench. “Oh, thank you for asking! I’m, like, super famished right now. Whereare you crashing? Oops, never mind, I can be a little busybody,” she apologizes with a nervous giggle.

I can’t help but break into a real smile. I think she’s the first figure skater I actually like.

I was taught to see everyone as a rival—basically, anyone who’s in my way of winning medals. My coach was all about thatmindset. He always said there are no friends in competitions, just distractions. But I don’t want to buy into that anymore. Nope, I’m done listening to his dumb advice.

I need to open up and I will.

It’s time to change patterns.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. And to answer your question, I’m still figuring that out,” I say as we make our way toward the array of muffins, cakes, and chips.

When I submitted my application for the show, it stated in the fine print that we’re responsible for covering our own expenses. And that’s what’s nearly breaking me—having no money, only debts, and my mom unable to help. We’re both just trying to get by in our little trailer in Orlando.

My stomach grumbles in protest and I eagerly grab a large muffin with blue icing that matches the show’s theme. Oh my, it’s good. Each bite is like a mini party in my mouth, a buttery disco ball of blueberry flavor.

“What do you mean you’re not sure where you are staying?” Priya goes for the chocolate cake as more skaters filter into the room, each one feeling like a member of a shy troupe.

We all know that even if I make friends today, our time together will be brief since only twelve figure skaters will be chosen. The daunting reality sinks in as I realize there are three initial casting groups with thirty contestants each. Only a select few will move on to the next round…but I saw her skating. They’d be stupid to not cast her.

“I had a loose promise and it turned out it wasn’t for me, so I’m back to looking for a place to stay.” I pick up the lost thread between bites. “But I’m checking out some more apartments later. How about you?”

Priya reaches for the bowl of chips, her long, slender fingers delicately picking up a few before dropping them into her mouth. “I live in this tiny apartment around the corner,” she says between bites. “My parents wanted me to live as close to the studio as possible, since I’m alone here. They’re very angsty people. But it’s filled with models and influenzas, can you believe it? I’ve been here since last week and I already feel so out of place next to them. I can’t even.”

She shakes her head with such disgust that I can’t help but laugh at how she pronouncesinfluencers.

Priya stops mid-bite, gazing at the chips as if they’ve suddenly sprouted heads. “Oh no. Maybe they put out these tempting snacks to test our willpower and weed out the weak!”

She drops the chip, sending it on a downward spiral toward the bowl. I chuckle, unable to contain myself as her eyes balloon to cartoonish proportions.

I offer her the bowl of chips. “Come on. Eat. Don’t worry, I bet they’ll replace these with celery sticks soon enough. Plus, you look amazing. These chips won’t do any harm.”

She sighs heavily but takes more from the bowl. “Thanks, but I swear, if I gain an ounce, my room will declare war on me. It’s so tiny. New York’s price tags are off the charts—like, seriously.”

I nod.

Yep, Grace chose one of the most expensive cities to produce her show. I wasn’t joking when I said I was considering renting a cheap car and sleeping in it.

“Oh hey there,Liora James.”

The sudden voice startles both of us. Priya’s chip crumbles in her hand like a sandcastle, leaving her sparkly dress covered in crumbs.

We turn to see a girl in a glitzy dress adorned with pearls. Shiny brown curls cascade down her perfectly made-up face, framing her sharp features.

I notice the initials of Vera Wang on her hip and almost gasp. I remember Wang designing figure skating dresses for Michelle Kwan, but now it seems she dresses Stacey Saab too. I know her from the US figure skating nationals; she was so mean to all the other girls that it was my mission to beat her, and when I did, she bawled her eyes out—didn’t even manage a congrats.

I heard she got injured and had to retire from competing in major competitions.

“Long time no see. What bringsyouback?” Stacey’s question makes my stomach drop and I suddenly feel sick, but I force myself to breathe through it. Of course people would ask why I returned after disappearing for so long. I’m a gold medalist, and was on my way to win gold for the second time in Beijing.

It’s natural for people to want to know the whys.

And it’s foolish to believe the TV producers won’t exploit my story.

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