Page 3 of Revolve
Yeah, definitely going to be sick. His words are a pin to an already deflated balloon.
“Don’t I get a choice?”
“It’s time to step up, Donovan. No more messing around.”
I have to tell him about the drug test. I have to saysomething, but a part of me holds out hope that Vik will come through, and I’ll be clear of this mess.
“New lines will be posted by next practice. You’re dismissed,” Kilner finishes.
In the locker room, the guys chant, “Double D!” until I’m ready to lose it. I strip off my gear, my frustration bubbling over as I stare at my jersey. Once upon a time, I could see aCstitched on it. Butthat dream faded the moment I was labeled asrecklessandimpulsively physicalby every commentator and referee.
Kian approaches me with a sheepish smile. “I voted for you as a joke.”
“Yeah, well, your fucking joke is my reality.”
He sinks onto the bench beside my locker. “It’s one semester. It can’t be that bad.”
When I can’t take it, I head to Kilner’s office, brushing past the guys who congratulate me on their way out. But just as I’m about to burst through the door, I pause.
Kilner’s disappointed face is worse than anything else I’ve endured. And I can’t tell him why this captain thing is a bad idea. Not until I can get a handle on this drug test thing.
I step back from his door just as Kian bumps into my shoulder, pulling me back to reality, where no one knows how much I’ve fucked up. Not yet.
Kian glances up from his phone. “I know we’re on our best behavior,” he whispers, “but Beta Phi is throwing a party tonight.”
I shouldn’t, not with everything on the line, but fuck it, that’s a problem for tomorrow.
“I’m in,” I say.
TWO
SIERRA
MY HEAD HITSthe ice, and I hear the crack of my skull before my vision darkens.
My mom’s panicked scream pierces through the chaos, her voice blending with a cacophony of noise surrounding me. My skates feel like they’re made of lead as I lie motionless on the ice, my entire body numb. The world blips in and out. I hear the relentless high-pitched wail of an ambulance.
“Sierra.” I’m jerked out of the darkness of my nightmare, like I broke through the surface of a frozen pond. My breaths come in wheezy, shallow bursts, trapped under the weight of the red-splattered memories.
“Sierra.” The familiar lilt of a voice pulls me back, followed by a cool touch on my neck, pushing me into a sitting position. “You’re okay, it’s over now. You’re safe.”
You’re safe.
Those words echo, muffled by the ringing in my ears that’s louder than the sirens that were just there. I pry my eyes open, sit up in bed, and find my desk lamp casting a soft yellow glow in my room.
Scarlett sits beside me, cherry-red hair pulled into two loosebraids as she presses an ice pack to the back of my neck. The dampness sends an icy drop of water down my spine and draws me out of my head. I hug my knees to my chest, my comforter rising with the movement until I rest my head on my knees.
“Sorry,” I whisper, trying to focus on my breathing.
Breathing. It’s something so automatic, yet I need a reminder to do it. It’s pathetic.
I’ve woken up like this every night since we moved to campus three days ago. I usually snap out of it alone, but tonight Scarlett probably heard me through the crappy dorm walls.
She hands me a glass of water, and with a shaky hand, I take it and gulp it down. It travels through me like a cold shock, loosening my rigid posture.
Her charm bracelet jingles as she rubs my back. “Stressed for today?”
Hartford, Connecticut, is home to Dalton University, and I’ve lived in this town my whole life. My first skate was in the university’s arena. And when Dalton’s figure skating program became eligible with the International Skating Union, I knew I’d attend.
