Page 72 of The Favorites
“If you have a concussion,” she told me, “you shouldn’t skate.”
I whirled on her. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Was that your plan all along?”
When we’d collided during the practice session at our first Nationals in Cleveland, it had been an accident, pure and simple. This time, I wasn’t so sure. Bella certainly didn’t look sorry.
“That’s enough.” The slender blade of Sheila’s voice slipped between us. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you where we are.”
Backstage at a major competition, which meant skaters and coaches and officials and reporters watched our every move. The cameramen were keeping a respectful distance, but no doubt they had their zoom lenses trained on us.
Heath kept his distance too, leaning against the wall a few feet away. But he hadn’t taken his eyes off me for a second.
“Let’s go.” I took Garrett’s hand. “It’s almost time.”
I started toward the curtained-off tunnel between the backstage area and the rink, where we’d wait for our names to be announced.
Heath blocked my path. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I glared at him. “Get out of my way.”
The final movement of Fischer and Chan’s Chopin sonata had begun. Garrett and I should already be in position.
Heath turned to Garrett. “You’re just going to stand there and let her—”
“He’s notlettingme do anything,” I said. “It’s my decision.”
“It’s her decision,” Garrett repeated in a numb monotone.
“You’ve won this thing three times in a row,” Heath said. “Even if you withdraw, they’ll send you to Torino. You can submit one of those, what do they call it…”
“Appeals,” Bella supplied. “Heath’s right, you can petition to be on the team no matter what happens today.”
Garrett turned back to Sheila. “Do you think they’d still name us to the team?”
Sheila lifted her shoulders. “They might, they might not. There’s no way to be sure.”
I thought about asking Sheila what she would do in my situation, but I already knew the answer. Sheila Lin wouldn’t withdraw from a competition unless she was stone-cold dead.
Yes, my head hurt, but it was nothing in comparison to the agony I’d gone through to get to that moment. Not only the physical pain of pushing my body to the limit, but all the grief, the struggle. The heartbreak.
I couldn’t stop. Not when I was so close. I could see it all—the rest of my career unrolling in front of me like a red carpet. Garrett and I were going to win our fourth U.S. title, and we were going to be Olympic champions.
“I can do it,” I said. I’d never felt more certain of anything in my life.
Sheila nodded. “All right.”
Bella pursed her lips and turned away. Garrett stared down at his skates, taking slow, deep breaths.
Heath gripped my shoulders like he wanted to shake sense into me. “Katarina, you’rehurt.You can’t seriously—”
“Don’t touch me.”
I tried to writhe free, but he held fast. My vision blurred, pain spiking between my eyes.
“Please.” Heath’s voice was a whisper, meant for no one but me. “Don’t do this. If anything were to happen to you…”
I was so relieved he didn’t finish the sentence. That way, I could go on telling myself that this plea was merely another manipulation, the latest phase of his revenge plot. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t care what happened to me.
As I headed for the ice, hand in hand with Garrett, I felt Heath’s eyes hot on my back. Same as when we were kids, when he sat in the stands watching me spin and jump for hours.
