Page 2 of No Promises, No Lies

The music re-starts and this time I push forward, my blades digging into the ice, gaining speed before switching onto my inside edge.

Karina’s words don’t bother me as much as she thinks they do. Professional figure skating is not for the soft skinned. Nothing she could say to me could get in my head. But her words echo my own self doubts, giving them fuel.

Her methods may be brutal, and her words harsh, but if anyone can help me, it’s Karina Valgova.

And I need to be better.

To be the best.

Because I’m running out of time.

I fly through the complicated footwork section of my routine, pushing loose strands of hair out of my face before leaning into a crowd-pleasing cross-ice spiral.

Nailing it.

I’m barely halfway through the routine before my focus slips and my thoughts stray back to my father.

He’d been watching today. I’ve been skating at the Edge Arena all summer and he’s never once stopped in. It gives weight to my theory that something is up. Things have been tense at home. No one has said anything, but it’s in the air. Something’s different. Something’s changed.

The deal we made comes to mind just as I launch into the first triple. Landing it, I take off immediately into the second, thrusting my toe-pick into the ice. But I over-rotate, landing hard against the unforgiving ice, sliding across the rink until the boards stop me.

This time, I don’t waste a second. I’m back on my feet before Karina can even utter a word, already skating back to the far corner.

Again.

Fear has an ugly taste. I dig my blades into the ice and start again. The stress and impact from my repeated falls kick up the familiar dizzy feeling in my head.

I grind my teeth.

Not now.

After I exit my first spin, the vertigo worsens and I stumble off a simple three-turn.

Finally, I relent. Pulling out of the routine and skating for the bench, I keep my eyes on the ice, unable to meet Karina’s eye as I tear through my bag. I search for the little orange bottle of pills.

My fingers close around the bottle, and I release a breath, quickly shaking two small pills out and swallowing them with a cool rush of water. Leaning back against the bench and closing my eyes, I wait for the spinning to stop. The medicine is fast-acting but I will it to work faster.

I’m running out of time.

After a minute, Karina joins me, lowering herself gracefully onto the hockey bench. “I admire intensity but… you skate like life depends on it. Where is love, where ispassionfor skating?”

I take another long drink of water, grounding my head and avoiding the question.

I do love skating.If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here every freaking day getting my ass kicked by frozen water!

But she is right about one thing: this is life or death.There is gold in my future, that much is certain. But whether it’s a gold medal or a gold ring—depends on me.

Opening my eyes, I set down my water, the vertigo fading away. I rise on shaky knees that have nothing to do with the long-term effects of my concussion.

“Again.”

2

ONCE A GOON…

RORY

Karina keeps me training until the Zamboni driver grows fed up enough to wrench open the gates. He backs the giant ice cleaning machine out onto the ice while I’m exiting my scratch spin.

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