Page 17 of Off the Edge

Same routine, same technical, same error on the ice, same wandering blade, and this time I almost dropped Tamsyn and only managed to save the both of us from hitting the ice by some reflexive miracle.

We took it off the ice, where the others couldn’t see.

“What’s gotten into you?” She tugged at her skate laces to loosen them, not looking up.

I had nothing to say. No explanation. I’d checked my blades. I’d gone over in my mind, again and again, the moment where my blade’s edge had traveled, and it didn’t make sense. Only that I’d been the source of the error both times.

“Get your shit together, Hasegawa.”

She left me at the rinkside, gathering my equipment, while the others in the team stayed back. There was no excuse. No reasoning. I’d made the mistakes. My focus was off, my thoughts muddled. My hand shook as I went to grab my skate bag. I snatched the bag up and left the rink. I wasn’t supposed to make mistakes. That was not who I was.

My father would be disappointed.

So was I.

EIGHT

CAMDEN

“You heard what happened at the rink today?” Casey said, shoveling cafeteria noodles into his mouth.

“Man, can you swallow before speaking?” I laughed, enjoying my own amazing food. I had no idea what it was. Something local, colorful and tasty, and organized into little trays. After the day we’d all had, I was just as hungry as Casey, but I didn’t wear my food like him. “Or does it have to happen at the same time with you?”

“He’s disgusting,” Jen said, twirling noodles around her chopsticks like a pro. “I had a horse who ate like him.”

I snorted. “What happened to it?”

“Got laminitis and died.” She ate the noddles, and chuckled around them, blond ponytail swishing.

I laughed. I had no idea what laminitis was, but the comparison was hilarious, especially when Casey neighed.

The cafeteria was always busy, but it seemed busier today. All kinds of voices speaking multiple languages ebbed and flowed around us.

He stabbed his chopstick in my direction. “You’re gonna love this. Hasegawa almost dropped Ward on a shoulder lift.”

I spluttered, nearly inhaling a noodle. “He what?”

“I know, right? Everyone’s talking about it. The living legend fucks up a week before the opening ceremony? He almost did it this morning too. I’m tellin’ you, he’s breaking under the pressure, man. He’s not as good as everyone says. He just sails by on his name.”

I swallowed and laughed it off, but my mind raced. Hasegawa did not make mistakes. The fact he had was good news for me and Zoe, and for Team Canada. But it didn’t feel right. Not from Ren. He and Tamsyn had been skating brilliantly. We’d all seen it. Something must have caused him to mess up? It could have been pressure, but that seemed unlikely. The man was a pillar of ice under pressure. Nothing touched him.

“Guess he must be human. Who knew?” Casey joked. “This is good for you guys, competing against them. Maybe he’ll fuck up some more. Then it’s a walk in the park to the gold.”

Zoe frowned. “We don’t wanna win just because he’s making mistakes, Case.”

He snorted and shoveled in more noodles, speaking around them again. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Not really,” she argued. “We wanna win because we’re better, not because he’s having an off day.”

“I’m with Zoe on this,” I said.

“Pfft. Like you’d say no to a gold because he screwed up? C’mon.”

We chatted more about winning fairly over winning just for the sake of winning. I wanted to win fairly, to beat Ren while he was at the top of his game, then I’d know I was truly worthy of the gold. Assuming we made it to the podium at all. We all knew he was better than a few mistakes on the ice, though. Something had to be wrong for him to almost drop Tamsyn. He had never almost dropped me.

We left dinner and waited for the shuttle bus that would take us back to our apartments. Snow fell hard now, and the temperature had dropped to a degree that would freeze your balls off if they happened to be exposed. I’d be glad to get back into the warmth, and stamped my feet to keep the blood flowing.

My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket with stubby, gloved fingers. Dylan’s number showed on the screen. I hadn’t spoken to her in months. We’d chatted a few times after my recovery, but since I wasn’t training under her anymore, there hadn’t been any real reason to stay in touch.