Page 1 of Ice Dance

ONE

REN

Alisha fell coming out of the second phase of spins. Again.

I couldn’t have caught her without the both of us going down, and Montreal selection week was not somewhere you fall on the ice.

We were better than this.

I dug my ice-skate blades in, coming to an abrupt halt that sent up a spray of ice dust. Other contenders continued their practice sessions around us, and some spectators watched from behind the rink’s boards and Perspex screens. About a third of the seats in the stands were taken, mostly by team staff, coaches, assistants, and family.

This morning at the rink wasn’t a public event. We were all here to warm up and get a feel for the ice under our blades. This practice wasn’t important as far as the rest of the week went, but this week was everything, and would prove to the ice-dance world that I wasn’t done. I needed every step to be perfect, every sequence to be on point. There was simply no room for errors.

Alisha had fallen three times in twenty minutes.

Nerves were normal, but this wasn’t nerves.

“Alisha.” I offered my hand.

She batted it away and looked up. Tears brimmed in her eyes. I hadn’t expected that. Not here. Cry away from the rink, out of sight, not where the coaches and rival skaters could see. We had to project unity at all times, not whatever dramatic breakdown this was.

“What are you doing?” I kept my voice low. “Get up.”

She stayed on her knees and held my gaze. We’d worked together for six months. Six months, every day, building to this week. Before that, we’d paired up for regionals. I’d known her for years. I’d seen her wobble, seen her throw tantrums, but I’d never seen her break.

Slowly, Alisha rose, and swiping at her tears, she turned and skated away, toward the exit gate.

This was ridiculous.

Whatever she was going through, she needed to gather her composure, pack all the messy and unnecessary emotion away, and get on with the job of being my partner.

I skated after her. “Alisha?”

“I can’t do this with you, Ren!”

With me?

Heads turned our way. The spectators had noticed. This was unacceptable. Embarrassing. She was going to cost me everything. I sped up, crossing the rink fast, and skidded to a stop at the gate. “Wait.” I reached for her and caught her wrist.

She shook me off. “I’m done, Ren. I’m done.” The tears were in free fall now. The sight of them on her cheeks stopped me dead. How could she do this to me now?

She vanished through a side door, heading toward the changing rooms.

Skaters stared. Some tried not to, and busied themselves with their own tasks. Murmurs echoed around the enormous ice rink. Hushed whispers.

I knew what they were thinking—Ren Hasegawa was done too. I needed Alisha. I’d invested six months into this week and her. Six months of training. We’d struggled, she’d struggled, but all partners were tested in training. She was stronger than this, I knew it.

She needed time. That was all.

But I wasn’t going to be the one to chase after her. She’d cool down and come back.

Shaking out my hands, I returned to the center of the rink and pushed all unnecessary thoughts from my mind. This was fine. I pulled my body into the starting pose, skates poised, arms out and level, wrists bent, fingers spread, head up, shoulders straight.

Alisha would come back. I needed this week to go well. I needed to prove I wasn’t a lost cause, that I still had the win in me. I needed her as a partner. This season, my career, hung in the balance because she couldn’t keep her emotions in check.

I sighed. I couldn’t control her, but I could control my body, this moment, and in this moment, I would dance like I’d been trained to, like I lived to, as though my chances of salvaging my entire career hadn’t, impossibly, just slipped through my fingers through no fault of my own.

TWO