Page 87 of Off the Edge

This did not look good. The last panel hadn’t looked good; this was worse than that one.

“Mr. Navarro,” Dr Varga said. “Please, sit.”

I stepped in front of the chair, almost tripping over one of its legs, and sat, then had no idea what to do with my hands. Putting them on the table seemed aggressive but putting them in my lap made me feel small. I stuffed them between my thighs, pinning them there, holding myself still.

Miles had said now was the time to sit and nod and be quiet. Three things I was not very good at. But their neutral faces suggested I’d have to behave if I was going to survive this.

“Some information has come to light regarding your past behavior,” Dr Varga said.

When she didn’t elaborate, I echoed, “My past behavior?”

“Your juvenile record regarding drug use.”

Oh. That. “Juvenile records aren’t public. How’d you know about that?”

“Is it true?”

I pursed my lips. “I was fourteen. I got into some trouble. It was a long time ago.”

“Indeed. And that alone is of course no real concern, but combined with a multitude of indiscretions . . .” She trailed off.

“But what?” I tried to keep the challenge out of my voice, I really did, but I was pretty sure I’d failed because both her eyebrows went up and Miles kicked my foot under the table.

My heart rate kicked up too.

“So, what else have I done?” I asked. “Let’s have it out. Did you google me? I’m pretty sure it’s all over the internet. You wanna go through each historical indiscretion and ask me if it’s true? Have at it. Or let’s stop wasting time. Whatever you found, sure, I probably did it. Does that make it easier for you?”

Miles sighed.

The trio on the panel stared.

“It has also come to light that you lied to this panel,” Varga said.

“I lied . . .” Wait, what had I said before . . . The photos. Going off site, getting drunk . . . “I didn’t lie.”

“Was it not Ren Hasegawa who was intoxicated that night?”

I opened my mouth. What was I supposed to say to say to that? Tell them yes, and drop Ren in the shit? Was he going to get hauled in front of this panel next for having a moment when he’d needed a bit of downtime? He didn’t need that hanging over his dance tomorrow, and I was already in trouble so . . .

“This is bullshit.”

“Camden,” Miles snapped. “This is not just about you. I’m here to represent Team Canada. Your teammates. Remember who and what you’re representing.”

I sat back in the chair and pressed my lips together. So I was to sit still and shut up. Right.

“Did you lie to this panel?” Varga asked.

“No.” I lied. “I was drunk, Ren was not. I don’t know who’s feeding you this information, but they clearly have it out for me. And they’re wrong. Do I get to know who’s giving you all this?”

“That information is confidential.”

“Right, so they can lie about me, but I don’t get to know who it is?” I could feel my heart in my throat now, and whatever control I had of the situation was fast slipping away.

“It really doesn’t matter who it is, Mr. Navarro. You are here, they are not. Your conduct during a recent interview was unbecoming of an Olympic athlete.”

“Yes, it was unbecoming,” I parroted. “They were unbecoming to come at me like they did.”

“Do you have anything to say about all this?”