Page 8 of Oh, Flutz!

“Haven’t you been online today?” She nods at the TV screen. “That’s not from last month. It’s from this morning, when the news broke.”

“What news?” I ask, trying to pop open the battery pack on the remote with my fingernail. Oliver waves a hand, massaging his temples with the other.

“Do you think you could maybe get to the point before I die of old age?”

Nina narrows her eyes. “Like you’ll get the chance. Are you hungover? Again?”

Oliver groans louder, upping the patheticness, and I can’t help but laugh as I watch his cousin weigh the pros and cons of reaching over and strangling him.

“Anyway. Maybe I’m insane, but…I think that Katya Andreyeva might be coming to skate here.”

“Here where?”

“The States. This rink. Well, maybe not this rink, but definitely Team USA. The transfer papers were filed this morning, that’s why everyone’s freaking out. And then Lian disappeared right before it happened, so…”

I straighten, rubbing at my eyes and sitting up. Too much crazy information is being thrown at me, too soon after a workout.“What?”

“You’re reading too much into it, Neens. There’s no way someone likeheris going to come skate here.”

Nina plants her hands on her hips, glaring at her cousin. “I said it was just a theory, asshat. And why not? It’s happened before.”

“Wasn’t that Canada, though?”

“Whatever. I just thought it was too big of a coincidence, especially since I’m pretty sure Lian knows one of her coaches. You know, Kuzmin? The Nagano Nuke? There’s a picture of all the ’98 medalists in her office, and they’re standing next to each other.”

I glance at Oliver, who looks at me like,are you thinking what I’m thinking?Because the idea is totally insane. I can’t even picture it happening—but Nina’s not wrong. The timing of it all is just…too eerie.

I blow out a breath, stretching my arms and letting out a yawn. “I don’t know. Maybe she’ll go train with Natalie King or Terry Peterson or one of them. Ollie’s right, as much as it pains me to say it. I don’t think someone like her would want to skate here.”

Oliver grins. “Nowhere within two hundred miles of Bryan’s stinky skates, that’s for damn sure—"

I grab the pillow behind me and punt it at him. Just as he falls off the couch in a fit of hysterical cackling, the door swings open again.

“Hey, guys,” Juliet says cheerily, her bright smile oddly strained.

“Looking for a refill?” I joke, seeing her Starbucks cup in hand.

“What’s up, Campbell?” Oliver crows from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, and Nina glares down at him.

“It’s an embarrassment to be related to you.”

I snort, and Oliver tosses the pillow back at me.

Instead of laughing and joining the fun like she usually does, though, Juliet stands there awkwardly, clutching her phone. “Bryan, can you come to the front?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” I shove my feet back in my beat-up blue gym shoes, following her out of the room.

I jog a few steps to catch up. “What’s up?”

Juliet grimaces. “Just…Lian’s back. She wants to see you.”

Part of me is wondering why this is making her act so constipated, but I keep my mouth shut for once, nodding in tune to “Cruel Summer” playing over the loudspeakers. My sister plays this stuff all the time at the house. I’m not bothered by it, it actually kind of puts me in a good mood, but still, it’s kind of funny considering she’s the last girl you’d initially expect to blast Taylor Swift loud enough to shake the walls.

This must mean news about my, uh, problem. I swallow hard.Please tell me Lian got it figured out. Please let me stay on the team.

Juliet pushes open the glass door of the rink staff area, and the chime jingles above it.

My coach’s wiry frame and maroon puffer jacket are in her swivel chair, but one of the two seats in front of her desk—the one I usually sit in—is filled already.

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