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

a public space. But if it was possible to whisper shout, whisper shouting was absolutely what he was doing.

“I didn’t invite you because of your job! You said you were done. And then you added things about the island to the article! You said the article was about the race for the other slot, which means me and Cayden. But somehow, that’s not what happened! Cayden wasn’t even in the article!”

“He wouldn’t take my calls,” Zack said. “You knew that. You talked to the guy!”

“I didn’t know you’d given up on him and changed the focus to me! Did you see Cayden almost crash into me in warmup?”

Zack looked eager to grasp at the subject change. “Yeah, that was fucked up right?”

“It sure was!” Aaron exclaimed. Fuck whispering. “He called me ‘seal boy,’ and that’s all your fault.”

“Boys!” Katie said sharply. “Elevator.”

Aaron let her shepherd them, but that didn’t mean he was going to let up. His true disappointment, the text with the names of who would be going to the Olympics, hadn’t come yet. He wasn’t going to be on that list now, but when it came—and it would at any moment—he’d probably cry. So if he was going to yell, he needed to get his yelling done now.

He tried to lay into Zack again in the elevator, but Brendan just made a soft noise and pointed to the obvious security camera and the large mirrored walls. No one cared about figure skaters, until they did.

Aaron keyed into his room, and everyone followed. Housekeeping had made his bed, at least, but his short program costume was draped over the vent to air out, his laptop and chargers were in a tangle on the nightstand, and his snack stash was an unorganized pile on the desk. His other clothes were scattered messily around the room. If he’d known his coaches were going to be in here, he might have tried to tidy up, but then, maybe not. Which was probably one of those figure-skaters-have-weird-boundaries things that had perturbed Zack at first, but Aaron didn’t care right now.

“Do we all need to be here for this?” Aaron asked at full volume once the door was shut behind them.

“Well, you’re yelling at me,” Zack pointed out. “So I probably need to be here for it, yes.”

“We’re here until the team announcement,” Katie said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Aaron stared at her in disbelief. “I’m not going to be on the team! We’re not going to have to go back there to deal with it. You two can go break up whatever fight the ice dancers are having or whatever it is you do when you’re not watching your athletes fail.” He started pacing up and down the room, mostly so he didn’t have to look anyone in the eye as his started to fill with tears.

“You didn’t—” Brendan started.

“I did!” Aaron was shouting now. “And it’s a hundred times more embarrassing than it could be because someone—” he pointed at Zack—“completely misrepresented everything about the article he was writing, the article that you –" he whirled to face Katie. “Insisted I find a way to make myself the star of.”

“Insist is a strong word,” Katie said. Her calm was infuriating. But before he could lash out again, at her or anyone, Zack touched Aaron’s wrist gently.

“Hey. Aaron. Hey,” Zack said quietly.

If he’d tried to grab his arm Aaron would have pulled away and might have tried to hit him, which Zack probably knew. Aaron gulped a breath and stopped pacing.

“Aaron, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“That doesn’t change anything, now does it?” Aaron snapped. But his anger was burning itself out, although maybe that was just the effect of Zack’s fingers, now intertwined with his.

Zack pulled him closer. “I know it doesn’t. But it’s still true.”

Aaron closed his eyes and let his head fall into Zack’s shoulder. Zack’s arms went around him. And it was so, so tempting; he could just stay here and cry and let Zack make him feel better.

But then Aaron’s phone barked in his jacket pocket. He jumped, jolting the top of his head into Zack’s chin.

“Ow,” they said at the same time, though Aaron had barely felt the pain.

His body was suddenly awash with adrenaline. “I know what it says, but I don’t want to look.”

Katie and Brendan’s phones also chimed, but they made no move to look at them. Everyone was frozen in place. Zack had dropped his arms from around Aaron, but they stood so close Aaron could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Zack finally broke the silence. “Someone should look.”

“I can’t,” Aaron whispered.

Katie, still perched on the edge of the bed, moved slowly for her pocket, and just as slowly drew out her phone and unlocked it. As if her movement had unfrozen his, Brendan did the same.

Katie’s eyes darted across the screen. “Aaron,” she said, her voice somewhat strangled.

“What?” he demanded. Everything else in the room was absolutely silent except for the pounding of blood in his ears.

“You should look at the text,” Katie said.

“Am...am I on the team?” Aaron couldn’t hope. He couldn’t. But he had to ask.

“There will be no U.S. Olympic Team announcement at this time,” Brendan read out. “The U.S. will be represented at Four Continents by...” He hesitated, glancing up at Aaron. “Cayden Sauer and Aaron Sheftall.”

“Four Continents?” Aaron squeaked. In a normal year it was the biggest competition before Worlds, but this was an Olympic year. Nobody really cared about Worlds or anything after the Grand Prix and Nationals. He hadn’t even given Four Continents a thought.

“Jack Palumbo isn’t going to Four Continents,” Katie said.

“And he doesn’t need to,” Brendan put in. “He’s a given for the Olympics.”

Realization hit Aaron like the ice rushing up to meet him in a fall. His heart drummed wildly. “They’re letting Cayden and me battle it out. For the last team slot.”

Katie nodded. “Looks like.”

“That’s—Aaron, that’s fantastic!” Zack exclaimed. He reached for