Page 23 of Shining Through

“Maybe flawless is over-rated.”

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What happened in Chicago was a fluke. I’ve told you dozens of times you are the strongest technical skater I’ve ever coached. I saw that when you were a teenager. Even with all the starts and stops to your training, competing in second-hand skates, you were beyond girls who’d had every advantage. That talent hasn’t gone away. It’s become stronger.”

“Then ten days up in Vancouver won’t hurt my training. And it might be what I need to feel better about how I’m skating. You know as well as I, skating is as much mental as it is physical.”

As if to prove the point, Brett tumbled out of his quad toe, and landed hard on his butt. Tabitha winced.

“The only way I’d agree is if you go to refine your performance,” Peter said. “I don’t want those Russian coaches tampering with your technique or trying to undermine you to give their girls an advantage.”

“Peter! You know Misha and Ilya would never do that.”

He groaned, defeated. “I know. And neither would Carrie Parker or her husband.” Tabitha’s hopes soared at the first inkling she’d won him over. “Is Olga on board with this?”

“I’m sure she will be,” Tabitha said, though she wasn’t sure at all. But having Peter’s blessing would make it easier to convince her.

“And things are okay with your family?”

There was the real fly in the ointment as her mom might say. Fiona and Ken had bickered via text throughout their return trip to LA. They’d arrived home at ten, and Fiona had left for his house, hoping to appease the man-child she’d been dating for the past year.

“I hope she dumps his ass,” Samara had said, as she settled in to do the homework she’d neglected, which was apparently due in the morning. But then Danté had called, wanting to come over. Homework forgotten, Samara said yes. Tabitha had retreated into her bedroom. Behind her sleep mask and earplugs, she wondered if Samara would flunk out of USC, when Fiona would quit falling for losers, and why the hell she seemed to be the only responsible adult in the Turner family.

She looked over at Peter and offered a bland smile. “Oh yeah, things are just great.”

In the rink snack bar, Tabitha ate her lunch-time yogurt. With Peter more or less on board, the next hurdle was Olga. As luck would have it, when Tabitha checked her email last night, there was a message from Olga inviting her to tea this afternoon. There was no doubt her disappointing performance in Chicago would be on the menu.

She was due at Olga’s by 4:00, and according to the clock above the closed coffee bar, it was just a little after 1:30. In Chicago, that made it 3:30. Daniil’s flight to Vancouver had just taken off.

Was he thinking about her, like she was thinking about him? Though surrounded by the familiar sights of the Beverly Ice Arena, her mind drifted back to the little bridge overlooking the Chicago harbor, where they’d shared their first real kiss. In the day and a half since, it had become her favorite place to be.

She clicked on her phone and brought up his social media pages. While waiting for her flight home last night, she’d friended him on Facebook, and followed him on Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat. So far, he hadn’t reciprocated. A response would have been nice, but she wasn’t going to sweat it. She scrolled through each platform. The posts were few. None were recent. So he didn’t spend all day tweeting and chatting. That suggested he was a discreet person with better things to do than tell the world what he ate for breakfast—or who he was seeing.

Without a sexy post to distract her, she went to a figure skating fan site she frequented, and then hesitated. Given her mood, reading what the fans had to say after the competition might not be a good idea. But reason aside, she had to know.

On the Star Spangled Skate forum, a poster named Gaby-Baby asked, “What the hell is wrong with Tabitha Turner? She SUCKED at Star Spangled Skate!”

Sk8rChik was merciless. “TT is nothing but hype. Mia Lang is the real talent. Nothing would make me happier than for Mia and Antoinette Curtis to go to Grenoble, and Little Miss Perfect to stay home.”

Little Miss Perfect. “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” she muttered under her breath. Didn’t any of them realize how hard it was to be perfect? How she’d been putting her heart and soul into it since she was a child?

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Brett joined her at their usual table and opened his carry-out salad.

Tabitha shut off her phone. “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh. How many times have I told you to stay off the fan boards? No one needs to read their bad press.”

“Maybe I find it motivating.”

“Don’t you have enough motivation in your life?” He speared a black olive. “One bad skate doesn’t ruin the whole season. Not unless you let it. And it wasn’t a complete disaster. You still won bronze.”

“Right, but we all know that’s not what anyone expected. Least of all, me. And what’s worse is that now, I’m seen as beatable. Courtesy of a fourteen-year-old just up from juniors, who isn’t half as good as Mia Lang. Watching her skate in Vancouver next weekend will be terrifying.”

Brett set down his fork. “Yeah, about that. Peter said you’re going up to Vancouver on Wednesday and plan to stay until the Maple Leaf. What gives?”

She glanced around, to make sure they were alone. If there was anyone she could trust with this, it was Brett. They’d been best friends since he’d moved here from Texas to train with Peter, but she’d known him years before that, from the junior competition circuit. He was one of the few who’d been kind to the scholarship girl. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Can you keep this quiet?”

Sensing a juicy story, Brett leaned closer. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I met someone in Chicago. But don’t worry,” she added. “I’m keeping it on the down-low, so no one will have any reason to think that you and I aren’t... a thing.”

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