Ink and Ice, Erin McRae [primary phonics .txt] 📗

Nationals was, after all, A Big Deal, even if you weren’t counting on it to make or break your Olympic dreams.

But the ice had moods. And if the ice was having a bad day so would everyone who skated on it. That wasn’t one of Aaron’s personal superstitions; skaters talked about the moods of the ice the way people who played outdoor sports would talk about the weather. And there were competitions that were notorious because everyone had performed below expectations due to strange slips and excessive falls. U.S. Nationals a few years ago was still referred to as ‘Failtionals.’

Aaron really, really needed the ice not to be in a bad mood right now.

But then Jack fell on his first jump and never fully recovered. That was two skaters in a row. Aaron tried not to panic, willing him through every takeoff. But none of it really worked. Jack would get great program component marks, he always did, and manage to walk away with gold, but yikes.

Aaron forced himself to breathe, to do what Brendan had said and let everything else go, as he warmed up and Jack waited in the kiss and cry for his scores.

Be good for me, he pleaded with the surface under his blades as he stroked around the perimeter. He had to get through the next four minutes. Even if passing out on the ice right here felt like a more comfortable option right now.

What is everything thinking about the seal boy now? Was his last thought as he took his starting position in the center of the ice.

It didn’t help.

Aaron got through his program without any falls, but that was the best he could say about it. He popped his triple axel, the one he’d frightened the judges with at camp that seemed so very long ago, and he two-footed the landing on his quad sal. His energy was wrong, his timing was off, and altogether it was a chaotic mess.

Aaron pried himself back to his feet for his bows. The audience was cheering, but the energy felt...flat. Polite, but uncapitulated. Frantically, his mind tried to reassure him that everyone was a mess today, and he’d be fine and pull it out. But as he skated to the door of the ice, where Katie waited for him so they could sit together in the kiss and cry, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his career might have somehow peaked on that strange night in St. Petersburg and that Ari, when she saw the article, would blame him for giving their secrets away.

Aaron twisted his fingers in his lap while they waited for his scores. When they appeared, he let his head fall into his hands, tense with nerves. He was currently in second, behind Jack. Good. For now. With Eric and Cayden still to skate, anything else would have put a medal completely beyond him. Either of them could beat Aaron on his best day, and Aaron had definitely not just had his best day.

Just let me finish ahead of Cayden.

At least it was Uncle Ras skating at the very end. Aaron was very fond of him—and deeply grateful—but he had barely squeaked into this last group; the long program wasn’t going to be easier for him. There was no medal risk there.

Backstage, Katie gave up on trying to get him to pay attention to anything other than the other skaters for the remainder of the event. They sat together in the seats set aside for competitors and staff, and soon were joined by Brendan and the rest of the skaters from TCI.

Aaron didn’t actually like to root for other skaters to fail. That kind of mentality went against everything he strived to do and be in this sport. For him, figure skating may have been a solo event, but all the skaters were on this strange journey together.

So he felt torn when Eric struggled with the ice the same way the rest of them had. Still, even with more than one fall, he might have been able to hold it together...until he fell out of his final spin.

“Oh no,” Aaron muttered.

Katie hissed in sympathy. “Injury? He went down hard on that one fall.”

Injury or not, it didn’t make a difference to the scores. Eric was in sixth, and Aaron was still in second, when Cayden took the ice.

...And fell on his first jump. Aaron clenched his hands into fists and huffed out a breath. Okay, maybe he did want Cayden to fail. Just a little.

But he didn’t. His performance wasn’t any cleaner than Aaron’s, but the base value of his program was higher, and this was a sport where fractions of a point could matter. And when the scores came, Cayden had squeaked ahead of Aaron by just a few points.

Third. I can live with third. The Olympics can still happen with third. My international record is better than his. They can still choose me. Aaron told himself this over and over. He knew it wasn’t guaranteed, but he’d had a strong season. Stronger than Cayden’s, and maybe that nightmare article Zack had written—and that Aaron still needed to address with him—really would work in his favor.

Nothing he could do about it now though, that much was sure.

Rasmus took the ice.

Aaron turned to Katie. “I hope he does well. If anyone doesn’t deserve a bad run, it’s him.” He said it with an intensity that surprised even himself; in all this whirlwind of a season, Rasmus had been the one skater outside of TCI who had been reliably kind and welcoming to him. Aaron had no outlet for his gratitude in this moment than that fervent wish.

Aaron hadn’t been following Rasmus’s programs much this season and regretted that as the music started. This was a good choice, well suited to his energy and the presence he had on the ice. It would have been so fun to watch it develop.

In fact, Aaron was so captivated by the performance that it was almost a