Page 79 of Oh, Flutz!

“No. That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with your insane bullshit. Have you lost your mind? We go on in twenty minutes, and you go and make us fall in front of half the world, in front of the judges, and now my arm is sliced open! What thefuck, Katya? We’re supposed to be partners!”

Right then, I wince, the cut on my arm stinging. Apparently the cut was deeper than it looked, and it’s already bled through the gauze, a thin stream running down my arm.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” is all Katya says in response, not needing to explain what she’s talking about. “You shouldn’t have.”

I just stare at her.

That’s it? That’s supposed to warrant causing an accident that could’ve ended up with both of us seriously injured? There’s no way Katya would’ve been able to get back up and skate if I hadn’t broken her fall.

She could’ve broken her neck. Jesus,Icould’ve broken my neck. All because of her refusing to realize that I tried to do what was best for her.

“I’ve been telling you this since we started,” Lee says quietly, breaking our tense staring contest and bringing out the Scary Coach look in full force. “Going at each other in private is one thing. The second we put you out in front of the press, the judges, an audience, you’re going to have to act like you don’t want to burn each other alive. What the hell is going on with the two of you? You’re friends one day, and at each other’s throats the next!”

I ignore that last part, and look at Katya, narrowing my eyes at her as I clutch my arm with my other hand, trying to staunch the bleeding. “I won’t if she doesn’t.”

She stares back. She’s not having any problem pretending not to care anymore. Sometimes I think she might not care about anything. “Lian, please tell him that if he doesn’t give me a reason to, then I won’t.” And with that, she turns and storms off.

Lian doesn’t even bother stopping her. She just looks right at me. “Clean yourself up. Shake it off. I don’t want you to even look at each other until you’re out there. Channel what you’re feeling into the performance.”

Oh, I’m feeling a lot, that’s for sure. I nod tersely, but when I turn away Lian grabs me by the shoulder.

“Bryan. Do not let this shake you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m serious, alright? Destroy them first. Everything else comes later.”

I look out rinkside, where Katya’s pacing, a storm cloud over her head as she rolls her shoulders, shaking out her hands. Looking at her just makes the frustration build up in my chest. I need to stop waiting for anything different. There’s no point.

“Later,” I repeat, then exhale heavily. “Got it.”

THREE DAYS LATER

We both skated pissedoff.

I fell on the quad toe, and our artistic interpretation scores were humiliatingly low, which probably had something to do with the stained bandage dangling from my arm, not to mention the fact that we didn’t look at each other once in the entire performance. Which was probably a good thing. I might’ve decided to give my partner a taste of her own medicine.

We finished third, if only because the technical side of our free is so strong that it can withstand screwups. And it was pretty rewarding, I won’t lie. Our first medal. But it still made me sick to my stomach. Faking all the grins and hugging like we’re friends when all the cameras were on, crossing my fingers that no one at the press conference would ask us too many questions about what happened. We were insanely lucky that they were too busy grilling Logan and Emma about the drama with his ex-partner to even look in our direction.

It just felt like such bull. It feltfake. And yeah, it’s not lost on me that this whole thing has been fake and we’ve never liked each other, but it was different this time. She went too far. And standing on the podium, it was a little harder than usual to remind myself it’s worth it.

I couldn’t even sit next to her on the plane, so I had to sit squashed between Lee and Juliet, while Katya was alone in the row behind us, staring out the window. When we got back yesterday Ollie had made us all promise not to let him within twenty feet of her, because he couldn't promise not to "drag her ass all the way to whatever circle of hell she came from.” Me, personally, I’ve been content with just not talking to her.

Right. Yeah. It’s totally not still pissing me off that she continues to give me the silent treatment. I’m totally fine with the fact that, if anyone should be mad here, it’s me, not her. But when have I not been in the middle of a situation in which, somehow,I’mthe one who gets the short end of the stick?

Speaking of which. Dad had another doctor’s appointment yesterday to check up on the pneumonia that keeps hounding him like a search dog. If this time it doesn’t kill him, I will. If I’m going to be his chauffeurandhis doormat, I’m going to need a little more incentive for my goblin brain than the increasingly unlikely possibility of appreciation.Thank you, Bryan. You’re such a good son, Bryan. The man went to MIT, for Christ’s sake, it can’t possibly be that hard. Can it?

Who am I kidding. I have a higher chance of winning Olympic gold. Meaning, subzero.

“Me and the guys are hitting Moby’s tonight, if you want to come,” I call as we finish a training session, slinging my guards on, and Juliet laughs.

“I think I’m too old for that, babe, but thanks.”

“Not according to half the bar!”

Juliet’s laugh echoes down the hall, and she waves, walking backwards towards the exit. “Night, Bry!”

As soon as they’re gone, Katya finally acknowledges my presence, letting out a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “Oh, yes, yourguys,” she mocks. “You do know your little sister doesn’t count as a friend, right?”

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