Page 6 of Oh, Flutz!

I’m still a failure.

I shove down the thickness in my throat. No matter—Svetlana might be a second-rate coach, but she’ll do until I can get back onto Tatyana’s good side.

I must be subconsciously rubbing at my back, because Mikhail’s gaze travels, connecting the dots between it and my wincing. “Katya…”

“What?” I ask, the picture of innocence, and he sighs.

“Keep this up and you’re really out of the game. Don’t you remember what happened to Irina? Do you want that to happen to you?”

I do remember, actually. Irina Sokolovskaya: a legend, for all of fifteen minutes. She was a few years older than the rest of us, she’d been with Tatyana longer. We didn’t know her too well, even though we saw her every day; she was quiet, reserved. Liza and Polina thought it was because she thought we were below her, and maybe they were right. We never really got a chance to find out. She’d been doing worse and worse in competition. She was nineteen, like me—old.

Because in figure skating, your biological clock runs out as soon as you turn legal, if not before. Right now I’m the second-oldest Russian female senior singles skater after Galina Gorshkova, who’s only just turned twenty-three (and she’s nowhere near the podium, so she doesn’t even count). It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long without my injuries piling up like an avalanche to crush me.

Which was exactly what happened to Irina. She hurt her hip in what had seemed like a minor injury, and the coaches and doctors decided that she was healed enough to return to training a few weeks later—Irina then proceeded to break it badly enough to need replacement surgery, forcing her into retirement. When you’re drilling as hard as I used to, how all the Zhukova girls do, bones are like paper. Often ripped to bits or crumpled up, and always expendable.

However, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to break myspine.So it isn’t really a valid example.

I don’t bother saying this, though. I just roll my eyes to the banner-covered ceiling. “I’m already out of the game. Just leave me in peace. Go back to Moscow, alright? I’m meeting with Svetlana Smirnova tomorrow.”

I turn to go, but Mikhail stops me. “Katya, she’s not going to say yes, and you know it.”

“What are you talking about? Of course she’ll say yes. I’m loads better than all her little twerps, she’d be mad to pass off this good of an opportunity.”

He shakes his head. “All the coaches have been told not to.”

What?“That’s impossible.”

“It isn’t.”

I laugh harshly. “What are they trying to do, drive me out of the country?”

Mikhail’s face is answer enough. My stomach sinks like a stone. “Go to hell, Misha. And take Tatyana’s mind games with you. I’m going to Svetlana, and you can’t stop me.”

“Would you just listen? There’s no point in going to Svetlana, this is what I’m trying to get you to understand. You’re not going to find a single half-competent coach between here and Yakutsk who’s willing to take you.”

No.I can’t shove down the panic this time—it springs back up even stronger. “So what am I supposed to do?” I ask, my voice coming out horrifyingly shaky. “Where am I supposed to go?”

He rubs at his face. “I’m working on it. I have contacts in France, Canada—”

I can’t help but snort. “Please, Misha. Be realistic.”

He doesn’t smile. “I am being realistic. I think I may actually be more aware of your situation than you are, Katenka. The best I can probably do at this point is get you to my friend Lian. It would be a big favor, but I can try.”

I stay silent, ignoring the fact that coaching me is apparently now abig favoreven though this time last month I had camps here and abroad thirsting after me, and trying to avoid the feeling that he’s right about the realism part. I can’t afford to pick and choose here if I want my career to survive. I rub at my forehead—I feel a migraine coming on. I’m going to need to go home and take something before it can get worse.

I sigh, taking another sip.Lian?The name sounds Asian, and familiar. “Fine. Where is she, China? Japan?”

“America.”

I choke on my water.

Chapter Three

BRYAN

TWO WEEKS LATER

LAKE PLACID, NEW YORK

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