Page 68 of Shining Through

“I heard she’s injured. Or had some kind of mental breakdown,” Brett said in the elevator, on their way down to Wednesday afternoon’s press conference. “But if that’s true, why doesn’t Claudia just confirm or deny it? No one’s heard boo from her, either.”

“Mia showed up at the last minute in Russia too,” said Tabitha. “Maybe she just likes the drama. Or maybe her coach does.”

Peter shook his head. “Mia’s a kid and doesn’t need to deal with any more pressure than necessary. Claudia has kept her off-site as long as possible, to minimize the distractions.”

Brett tilted his head and peered at their coach. Tabitha wasn’t the only one surprised that Peter was privy to intel from Mia’s camp. “How do you know that?”

He rubbed his palms together and thrust his hands in his pockets. “Claudia mentioned it.”

“In Russia?” Tabitha was still troubled that Peter had gone out to dinner in St. Petersburg with Claudia and Mia, but not her. Of course, she’d slipped off to see Daniil that night, which was why she hadn’t brought it up. Even if Daniil was over, the hurt wasn’t. She saw no reason to revisit a painful topic.

Peter looked away. “It could have been. I don’t remember.”

She and Brett exchanged wide-eyed glances. It wasn’t unusual for coaches to talk with each other, but Peter talking with this coach was definitely unusual. He seldom mentioned Claudia. Tabitha had always assumed they weren’t on good terms. Had she been wrong about this too? “How often do you talk to her?” she asked, but before he answered, a group of skaters and coaches from Michigan crowded into the elevator. Tabitha was left to wonder.

They got off on the ground floor, and the commotion around the conference room shifted her thoughts back to where they needed to be. Not only was there a respectable showing of press, but a handful of intrepid fans stopped skaters for photos and autographs. Tabitha smiled and signed, then went into the conference room.

A long table was set with twelve place cards and microphones, for the top six skaters in both ladies and men’s. Her seat was close to the middle. The fact she was in the prime center position affirmed she was still the acknowledged leader, but the seat just to her left was Mia Lang’s.

So Mia was planning to be here. Tabitha hoped her return from injury, a mental hospital, or wherever she’d been would interest the reporters more than another rehash of Tabitha’s disappointing season.

But five minutes before the three o’clock conference was to start, Mia’s seat was still empty. Tabitha leaned forward to make eye contact with Brett, further down the table. He lifted his hands and shoulders, stumped.

One minute before three, the buzz of conversation grew louder. Everyone looked at the door behind the skaters’ table. Tabitha turned to look too.

In walked Mia. She wasn’t injured. She was blond.

Tabitha set down the water bottle she’d been about to open as the once dark-haired girl took the empty seat beside her. She tried not to look at the flashing cameras. No one could miss that American figure skating’s current and rising stars were now a matched set. Tabitha nodded a greeting. “Nice hair.”

Mia flashed a bright, red-lipped smile. “Thank you,” she said, and then, collapsed into a spasm of coughing that shook her entire body.

All eyes were on the center of the table. Though Mia had her hands clasped over her nose and mouth, Tabitha inched her chair back. When the fit had passed, Mia cleared her throat, and swigged from the bottle of water at her place, draining most of it. The moderator looked over and raised his eyebrows. Mia nodded. “We can start now.”

The first reporter asked what Tabitha, and most likely everyone else, was thinking. “Mia have you been away because you are ill?”

“Oh no. I stayed home an extra day because it was my mom’s birthday, but I’ve been practicing hard, and feel great.”

“We love your new look. What prompted the change?”

Mia coughed and took another drink of water. “I was ready for something different that reflects the skater I want to become. It feels like a whole new me.”

The skater she wanted to become. And who might that be? Tabitha knew her feelings weren’t rational. People changed their hair color all the time. Hers was fake too, for crying out loud. A style consultant Olga brought in had suggested it. If her shift from dishwater blonde to Golden Girl signaled to another skater that her moment had passed, she’d never given it a thought. Not until today.

There were a few more questions for the other ladies’ skaters. Tabitha hoped she would get off easy. Then a journalist who’d never cared for her much, rose to ask his question. “With less than stellar results in the International Series, and outstanding performances by some of the other U.S. ladies, how will you feel if you’re not selected for Grenoble?”

Sweat prickled on her palms, but she summoned her poise and aimed her Ice Queen gaze at the man, just as Antigone might have faced brutal King Creon.

“I’d feel like anyone would who falls short of a goal they worked very hard to achieve. But I’ll support my teammates, and remember that I’ve been fortunate to do something I’m passionate about, and that the people I love stood behind me.”

Around the room, the reporters were jotting down her comments, or held out small recorders. Even though she hadn’t welcomed the question, she was glad she’d been able to answer it.

Her skating career had been a blessing. The only thing she regretted was that she’d taken it for granted, focusing on what had eluded her, rather than what she’d accomplished. Her love of skating had returned, and she had Daniil to thank for it.

If that was the one good thing to come from their relationship, she’d take it.

“That said,” she smiled, feeling her confidence shine through every word. “Peter and I have been working very hard since St. Petersburg. My programs are beautiful, I’m proud of them, and I can’t wait to take the ice Friday afternoon.”

“And we can’t wait to watch you,” the reporter added, with a twinge of sarcasm, then turned to Mia. “Now Mia, you’re on the verge of making it to the Winter Games at only fifteen. How does that feel?”

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