Page 126 of Oh, Flutz!

I can hear the panic in my own voice. “Why aren’t they getting her off? Why are they just standing there?” My chest is getting tighter and tighter, and I grab a hand to my throat, as if that’ll help me get air in. “She’s not—oh, God,” I gasp, making a horrible gagging noise, but I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’tbreathe—

“Bryan! Relax, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack!” Ollie’s grabbing me by the shoulders, trying to get me to inhale, and I can feel myself turning blue, my mouth is hanging open but my lungs have completely forgotten how to function. I’m choking.

“Lee, help him,” Nina cries, and Lian just kneels in front of me, dropping the phone to the floor with a clatter.

“Bryan, look at me right now.” Her voice is even, and I hold onto it like a lifeline. “You know the drill. We’re going to count to ten, alright, and then you’re going to raise your arms up.”

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Ollie says, clearly freaking out, and I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can. They can’t see me like this. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’ve been hiding this for so long; they can’t know. It’s bad enough Lee knows, but everyone else is just going to think I’m even more pathetic. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.Why isn’t she getting up—

“I need the two of you to calm down or get out of here,” Lian says curtly. “You aren’t helping him right now.”

“Come on,” I hear Nina’s voice say, and both of them fade into another room until Lian’s sternly calm presence is the only one here.

“Ten,” Lian says, and even though it feels like my chest is cracking in two, I force myself to lift my arms. They feel made of cement. I can’t remember why we do this, something about distraction, but all I know is that it’s worked before. Lee continues the count, and I follow the pattern, raising and lowering my arms, moving ridiculously slowly.

Once it’s over, and the weight on my chest isn’t as crushing, I let her turn off the TV. I let her put her hand on my back and shepherd me back upstairs.

I’m getting back into bed, turned away from her, when I finally ask her. “Can you call him?” My voice is cracked, thin.

“Sleep, honey,” I hear Lian’s voice say gently, floating further and further away. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

I always used to believe her when she said that.

It’s not rational at all, but it feels like it’s my fault. Like I shouldn’t have let her go. The part of me that was her partner can’t help but beat myself up for not being right there beside her to break her fall.

And then I get pissed off at myself all over again. Because it’s so stupid. Becauseshemade the decision to leave, and it’s not my fault she fell, and damn her for being so stubborn, and careless, and hyper-independent, and her insistent refusal to listen to common sense—is shecrazy?Two quads followed by a triple? And at the end of the program? It’s like she wanted to fall. It was probably all her idea. I bet her coaches told her over and over again not to do it, and she still did it anyway.

I should’ve been there to catch her.

The ache in my chest doesn’t go away.

Chapter Forty-Two

KATYA

I’m supposed to goto the ice.

It calls to me. I’m aching to get back on, to skate all my worries away until I can’t feel them anymore. But, I mean, I’m not even supposed to be here. The doctors said they’d clear me to leave the hospital tomorrow, but this can’t wait.Ican’t wait. Not anymore.

I know the way to Tatyana’s office like the back of my hand, and I walk through the complex, passing the rink and all the chattering girls with their colorful guards and matching scrunchies, the eye-rolling teenage boys that like to pretend they don’t care about skating to look cooler; the coaches’ shouts echoing over the laughter and sounds of skates pounding against the mat-covered concrete as children run to practice.

“Bystreye! Luchshe!”Faster. Better. More. More. More.

Whoever’s getting yelled at, it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s gotten an earful already at some point today, but no one seems to care.

Somehow, they all manage to be children. I was never very good at that. Once I moved up to juniors, it was like that part of me got shut off early. I can’t blame anyone for it, though. I flipped the switch all too willingly.

I pass another group of giggling girls, who all smile and chorus, “Privyet,Katya!”

I give them a wave and a smile. I really do try my best to be at least a little nice to them. I’m fine with them thinking I’m like Irina was, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings, but I just…they should like it here. They shouldn’t be like me, and they shouldn’t think all the older girls are out for their blood. Polina’s bad enough.

I march up the stairs to the second floor, gripping the handrail a little more tightly than usual. Between the thin and freezing rink air and flights of stairs, my head’s swimming a bit too much for comfort. I force myself to stop and take a deep breath. I already have a concussion, I don’t need to pass out and snap my neck falling down the stairs, too.

Once I can breathe normally again and there aren’t any spots in my vision, I take another deep breath—not because I’m struggling for oxygen, but because now I have to calm down.Rasslab'sya, Katya.

I need to talk to Tatyana. Now.

That fall at the test skates changed something. I glance up, and the stairwell turns into the stadium, the lights glaring blindingly down on the ice, the ringing in my ears, the screams and shouts and sirens, sounding impossibly far away. The voices all muddling into a nauseating blur, except for a clear memory.

---