Page 30 of Oh, Flutz!

As if he can read my mind, Ollie grins. “No one else was in the room where it happened, the room where it happened…” he starts warbling, using one of his guards as a mic, and I grab the other one, beatboxing terribly.

He barely gets through two more lines before he can’t breathe; he's laughing too hard. “Those were some good times, Young,” he says. “When did we get so boring?”

I smile, not altogether happily. “I don’t know. It’s depressing.”

Ollie sighs heavily before shucking off his boots, rifling through his bag and pulling on his off-ice sneakers. “Tell me about it. At least you’ve got a new opportunity with this girl, right? Even if she is totally loca, she’s a crazy good skater, we’ve all seen her. Try not to worry about it, alright? It could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be irreversibly injured. Or just be a way worse skater, like yours truly.” Oliver shrugs. “I mean, I don’t want to quit, not really. But it’s pretty clear I’m not going to get much further than this, you know?”

This is…new. I frown. “Don’t say that, man. You’re a great skater.”

He laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“Come on, Bry. We both know that the only reason I even finished fourth is because you pulled out after the short.”

I crease my brow. “Are you kidding? You saw how bad I was. And you always finish ahead of me, anyway.”

“Oh my god. Please be serious.”

“What?”

“Dude, come on. If you got your shit together, I’d be screwed.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He has to be. But he doesn’t usually joke about this.

He looks at me pointedly. “Areyou? Don’t you remember all those times you’d be twenty, thirty points ahead of me? All those years—”

He stops, seeing the look on my face, then sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t know, man. It’s almost like you gave up.”

I tense my jaw, tapping my knuckles against the Plexiglass, trying to ignore the way my heart has all of a sudden started thumping against my rib cage.

We’ve never talked about this before. He decides to bring this upnow?

Oliver looks extremely uncomfortable, and I’m tempted to say something likeyeah,how do you think I feel?Or even,I didn’t fucking give up, you should know that better than anyone,but I don’t say anything. Just keep tapping.

“So…how was it? Your first pairs training?”

Oh, as if talking aboutthat’sgoing to make me feel better.

When I get calledback to the other rink, my coaches and Katya are waiting, all of them already changed back into their street shoes. My partner looks like a kid in time-out.

“Katya and I have discussed some things,” Lian announces. “And she’s come to the decision that she’ll do the trial period with you. One season together. We go from there.”

I make eye contact with the red-haired girl, who’s staring me down with a glare that could probably keep the rink frozen, no cooling system required. “Alright,” I say, not taking my eyes off her. “Sounds good.”

She seriously looks like she’s eaten a lemon, and I almost laugh. “No need to look so excited, sunshine.”

She sniffs. “It’s nothing personal. You’re just not as good as me.”

Jesus. I smile, and I hope it’s as mean as she is. “Maybe I should try shoving down all my feelings until I don’t have any anymore. Seems to be working out pretty well for you.”

I almost think I’ve hit a nerve, but I must have imagined it, because she looks as uncaring as ever a split second later.

“Maybe you should,” she says calmly, taking a step closer. “And it is.”

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