Gold Medal Winter

by Donna Freitas

  “Oh no,” I groan.

  “You’ll hardly ever see her. Either she’ll be in her room with her door shut or you’ll be in yours.” Coach keys into the bedroom on the right, which is basically a white-walled box with two beds. The furniture is the same bright blue as all of the official Olympic paraphernalia, and there are welcome baskets for each of the women staying here, plus bottles of water and snacks stocked in the fridge and the cabinets.

  As in Vienna, I’m the first one to arrive. I drop all my things on the bed and suddenly feel a little light-headed. I’m really here!

  I’m at the Olympics!

  “Settle in, but be quick,” Coach says. “We have ice time in an hour and we have a lot of work to do.”

  Before Coach leaves me to unpack, I ask her one last question that’s been on my mind. “Do you think there’s really a chance my mother will get to come see me skate?”

  Coach’s expression softens. “I hope so, Espi. I’ll look into whether it’s just a rumor or if it’s true.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  When Coach is gone, the first thing I do is take out Joya’s star earrings from my bag and put them by the dresser where I can see them. I smile as they sparkle in the light. I can’t wait to wear them.

  Then I pick up my phone and call my house.

  “Hello,” Mamá says sleepily. “Espi?”

  “I’m at the Olympics, Mamá,” I say, which wakes her up.

  Even though I’m far, far away in another country halfway around the world, hearing my mother’s voice makes this place feel like home. During our conversation I wait for her to mention that she’s getting a visa and heading here, but she doesn’t.

  I decide she just doesn’t want to get my hopes up.

  The Skating Palace is enormous. It seats twelve thousand people, but it’s nearly empty right now, except for the workers sweeping and cleaning and the sound techs testing out the speakers. One of the figure skating pairs is down on the ice now.

  Coach Chen and I watch from the edge of the rink. A vivid image of me in my newly fitted medal outfit standing on the top podium dances in my head.

  “Coach, it’s possible I extended an invitation to a couple of friends for practice today,” I confess.

  “Espi! Who?”

  “Danny Morrison and his father.”

  Coach Chen gets an exasperated look on her face. “Now is not the time for you to be flirting with another boy. Now is the time for you to focus on winning gold!”

  My cheeks burn but I plow forward. “I’m not going to do any flirting. I was just trying to be nice. Danny’s father is a skating fan, and he sort of offered to be a stand-in parent while I was here since Mamá isn’t, and I figured the more support the better, right?” Coach opens her mouth, but I rush on before she can say no. “Please! I’m not going to get involved in any more boy drama.”

  Coach ponders this. Then she sighs. “Fine. Now get out there and warm up,” she says when the ice clears.

  I smile at her. “Thanks.” I’m about to step onto the ice, but I turn back and give her a hug.

  “What was that for?” she asks after I let her go.

  “For getting me here,” I say. “I can’t believe I’m about to skate in the same place where I’ll be competing in the Olympic Games.”

  Coach Chen smiles back. “I can believe it. Now off you go.”

  I speed around the edge of the rink a few times, because going fast always gets me psyched up and helps me get a feel for the ice. Then I warm up my legs and my footwork before I start in on the jumps, the easiest ones first. Single axel, double loop, double axel, then triple salchow, triple loop, triple flip, triple lutz in that order. I love how these jumps are second nature to me now. I don’t even have to think going into them — my body just knows what to do from memory. I move on to a series of single jumps, simply because it’s amazing to feel like I’m just hanging in the air when I don’t have to worry about so many rotations. Then I gear up again for more doubles and triples so fast they blur my vision.

  Even though the harder jumps require every ounce of energy I have, they leave me more revved up than before. I feel like I can do anything.

  Not bad, given that this is my first practice on Olympic ice.

  I pass close to Coach, her eyes intent on me. “Let’s see some series and then a few spins,” she says with a nod.

  So I go into some jump combinations and a few mini sections from my free skate, then some of the tougher elements in my short program. Next are the spins, which give me a rush. Now that I’m feeling good and warmed up, I head around the rink a few more times before doing a big Ina Bauer through the middle of the ice. It’s like a gliding backbend where your primary leg is bent and the other is stretched out behind you, and your arms reach back, back, back as far as your body will let you go, so it shows off your flexibility and grace. Some people don’t like doing them because you need to be able to open up your hips, but I mastered that position long ago, and for me, they feel easy. Well, except for the part where the arch in my back is so severe it’s difficult to breathe.

  “Nice, Espi!” Coach calls from the edge.

  I skate over. “Thanks. That felt great.” I’m on cloud nine. Practice is going so well, and I’m even wearing the Wang today. I shouldn’t have been superstitious about it after all. I’m excited, yet my mind is calm and focused, exactly the state a skater needs to win.

  She gestures behind her. “Your friends are here.”

  Danny and his father are coming down the steps. The bubble I’m on threatens to pop as I suddenly worry if Danny is angry about what Hunter said at the press conference.

  Now is not the time to clarify things, though.

  “That was wonderful, Esperanza!” Mr. Morrison is as enthusiastic as ever. “You’re so graceful! How do you bend like that? And the spins!” He turns to Danny and nudges him. “Isn’t she great?”

  Danny is blushing. “Um, yeah. Yes.”

  I smile, relieved to see that he’s not giving me an evil glare. “It’s nice of you to be here,” I say, pushing the drama thoughts away. I need to stay focused.

  “I’m Lucy Chen.” Coach holds out her hand to Mr. Morrison and they shake. “Hi, Danny, nice to see you again,” she adds, nodding at him and then turning back to his dad. “Espi says you are a big skating fan.”

  “I am.” There is excitement all over his face, and his eyes are shining. He’s like a big kid. “We’ll go watch over on the side so we can be out of your way.” He glances up at me. “Good luck, Espi.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Morrison.”

  A smile plays at Danny’s lips. “Let’s see if you’ve gotten any faster.”

  “Like you could beat me,” I say, and watch as Danny and his father head to the place where they’ll watch.

  Coach Chen turns back to me, all business again. “The speed you get on the way into your triples needs to go up if you want to consistently land the quad. You do love to go fast, Espi. Give it all you’ve got.”

  “Okay,” I say, and get going around the edge of the rink until I feel like I’m flying. Then I head straight into the quad sal. I almost make it the four rotations, but I’m about a quarter turn short when I land on the ice again. I have more height than ever, though. I’m just not rotating fast enough.

  I skate over to Coach.

  “Again” is all she says.

  “Sure.” I take a deep breath. Glance up at the place where Danny and his father are standing. Danny is watching me intently. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me, maybe with a little awe, that makes me giddy inside. “Here goes nothing,” I say, and take off around the rink again.

  On the second jump I end up a quarter spin short once again.

  But you know what they say: The third time’s the charm — because on my third attempt I come out of the quad sal flawlessly.

  I squeal. This quad is my best yet. Better even than the one I landed in front of the entire figure skating team before we left for
the Olympics.

  “Nice, Espi!” Coach Chen calls out.

  Mr. Morrison is clapping wildly and Danny is smiling that half smile of his. Between landing the quad so perfectly and having Danny watch me do it, my body is humming with more nervous energy than ever. I wonder how much this gives me some added speed and height that has nothing to do with technique.

  I go for the quad sal again and again. I nail it once, twice, three times. On the fourth I’m short, but my confidence is up, and on the fifth I make it like I’ve been nailing it my entire life.

  “Enough for today,” Coach calls out.

  I skate over to my audience of three. Coach Chen is beaming. She pulls me into a giant hug. “Esperanza Flores, that was amazing. Beautiful! Bax is going to love this when I tell him.”

  I squeeze her back. “I’m kind of excited too.”

  “You should be,” she says with all the giddiness in her voice that I’ve been feeling since Danny and his father showed up. Coach and I let go of each other. “If you land your quad sal like that during the Games, you’re going home with a medal.”

  “If Mai Ling doesn’t go for one after hearing the rumors about mine,” I point out, crossing my fingers.

  “We’re going to think positive,” Coach says, then turns to Mr. Morrison. She holds out her hand. “Maybe you and Danny are good luck.”

  Mr. Morrison is beaming. “Glad we could help!”

  “We’ll make sure you have good seats for the figure skating events that don’t conflict with Danny’s games,” Coach offers.

  “That would be wonderful,” Mr. Morrison says. “We’ll be there cheering really loudly.”

  “Speaking of Danny,” Coach goes on, “I know Espi picked up some tickets to the first US hockey game. Maybe we’ll both have to go.” She smiles at Danny. “Show support to Team USA.”

  My cheeks burn.

  “Sure,” Danny says awkwardly. “So, I’ve got practice and I gotta run.”

  “I’ll leave with you,” Mr. Morrison says, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

  Danny nods, then he turns to Coach Chen. “Bye, Ms. Chen.”

  “Oh, you can call me Lucy,” she says. “Good luck at practice.”

  He looks at me. “See you later, Esperanza. You were … pretty great.”

  “Thanks. See you,” I say, like it’s no big deal if we do or if we don’t, even though inside my heart is pounding.

  And not because of all the time I’ve spent on the ice.

  That night, I have my first opportunity to Skype with Libby and Joya. Joya talks about how West Side Story is going and I listen to Libby gush about her newest crush. Then my two friends grow strangely quiet on their end of the screen.

  “What, guys?” I press. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Um. Well.” Libby is stalling. She blinks her blue eyes guiltily.

  “Oh, no,” I say. “Joya, you say it, then.”

  “Well, how are things with you and Hunter?” she asks.

  “They’re not. We had kind of a falling-out in Vienna, and then Hunter made some stuff up at a press conference about us being together. Why?”

  Libby’s eyes grow wide. “So you two did get in a fight!”

  “Please tell me you two haven’t been reading awful gossip about me,” I say with dread. “Please tell me that rumors about me and Hunter have disappeared.”

  “Well, um, we can’t really tell you that, despite your ‘please,’” Joya says.

  Libby vies for more screen space. “The headline in TMZ was: ‘Olympic Spat! America’s Hope for Gold Gives the Quad King the Cold Shoulder.’ And there was a picture of you glaring at Hunter in some kind of church.”

  “Oh no,” I say.

  Joya wants her share of the screen space now. “Oh yes. But now the headlines are all, ‘Hunter and Espi, This Year’s Olympic Golden Couple?’”

  My cheeks flush with shame. All I can think about is Danny seeing this stuff and thinking less of me. “That’s horrible, both because it’s cheesy and also because it’s untrue. What else have you seen?”

  “Why don’t you just go look for yourself?” Libby asks. “Maybe you’ll feel better knowing what’s out there.”

  “Or you’ll feel worse,” Joya says.

  “I can’t,” I say. “I promised Coach Chen I wouldn’t, and if I break my promise, I might jinx myself.”

  Joya rolls her eyes. “Superstitions aren’t real.”

  “They are in my Dominican household.”

  Libby wraps one of her blond locks around her finger and lets it go. “Maybe you should stay away from Hunter Wills. Between the insane press and the fact that maybe he’s still with Jennifer —”

  “What?” I interrupt. I admit: My heart does a little loop and then a big dive upon hearing this.

  “Um,” Libby says. “I forget you’re not caught up on all the gossip. There are actually two sets of rumors around Hunter, only one of which is about you.”

  “And the other?”

  Joya looks at Libby, and when Libby doesn’t keep talking, she jumps in. “There are some people who think he’s back together with Jennifer.”

  “But he’s been flirting with me every chance he gets!”

  “Espi,” Joya says. “You need to get focused. Your only worry is the Olympics. It’s like being an actress — you can’t get caught up in all the offstage drama or you’ll mess up the drama that really counts, which is the one that happens onstage.”

  “I know,” I say. “But I have to see Hunter all the time. He’s not the easiest to avoid.”

  “So don’t avoid him,” Joya goes on. “Just don’t give him another in to mess with you. Focus on something else. You’ll get over it.”

  “There’s nothing to get over,” I say, even though that’s not entirely true. The twisting and turning in my stomach assures me of this. “I should go,” I add, because I’ve lost steam for gossiping.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Espi?” Libby asks.

  “Yeah. I am. I’ll talk to you guys soon.”

  “We love you,” Joya says.

  “Love you too.”

  “Bye, Espi.” They wave, and then the screen goes black.

  I go into the kitchen to get some water and a snack. Stacie is sitting in the lounge with Meredith.

  “Hi, guys,” I say, straining to open the water bottle.

  “Hi, Esperanza,” Stacie says in that snotty tone that seems to be her only one.

  “Hi, Espi,” Meredith says quietly, but then Stacie shoves her foot into Meredith’s leg, and Meredith turns away from me.

  Stacie stares over the back of the couch, her eyes narrowed. I roll my eyes and try to ignore the smug expression on her face.

  “You know, Esperanza,” she says. “You may think you’re all high and mighty and above the drama, and that deep down you’re just a nice girl who just wants everyone to like her, but really, you’re the biggest drama queen of all of us.”

  “I am not,” I protest.

  “Oh, believe me, you are. And good luck with that. Wait till the press gets hold of you. Before you know it, you’ll go from America’s Hope for Gold to America’s Queen of Drama,” she says, then gets up from the couch and flounces out of the room, dragging Meredith with her.

  And I am left behind all alone.

  The next day, everything starts to fall apart.

  I try to chalk it up to Stacie’s glaring presence in the stands.

  But really, it’s my fault.

  I lose my ability to focus. And worse still, to land my quad sal.

  “Espi!” Coach is shouting. She skates out onto the ice. “What has gotten into you? Yesterday you were on fire, and today, well …” she trails off.

  My shoulders slump. I can’t decide what to mention first. Should it be the fact that Meredith is now ignoring me, maybe to get back into Stacie’s good graces? Or should it be the rumors swirling around about Hunter and me? Or should it be the reality that my mother isn’t going to make it to see m
e compete at the Olympics, which I found out officially this morning when I asked her straight out and she started to sob?

  “I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed,” I say finally, my voice cracking.

  Coach pulls me into a hug. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but you’ve got to rise above it.”

  “How?” I cry.

  “You can do this, Espi. I’ve seen you do it.”

  “I can’t.”

  Coach looks at her watch. She sighs. “Our time is up for today anyway. We’ve got to get off the ice for whoever is next.”

  I sigh, then follow her to the exit. To make matters worse, Mai Ling is waiting to warm up. Her face is blank as she watches me skate toward her. It’s like she doesn’t even see me, like I don’t exist. I step through the door and she heads straight into the center of the ice, picking up speed.

  Then she goes straight for a jump.

  A quad sal.

  I gasp.

  Coach’s eyes practically fall out of her head. “Oh no.”

  Mai doesn’t make it. She’s a half rotation off.

  But still. She almost does.

  “Forget her, Espi,” Coach says. “You absolutely must forget her. She’ll only psych you out even more.”

  “But how? It’s Mai Ling. She’s even more of a favorite to win gold than Stacie!”

  “You need to stop.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “That’s not an option here,” Coach says, and starts up the stairs right next to the row where Stacie is sitting with a smirk on her face, her eyes on me.

  “You can’t handle the pressure, Espi,” she hisses as I pass. “You don’t belong with world-class skaters like us.”

  And I have to admit, I worry whether she might be right.

  The Opening Ceremonies are amazing and they are agony.

  All the athletes from the United States stand around in our white velour outfits waiting to enter the arena. The noise from the show outside is muffled backstage. The thumping beat of the music starts up and stops again as the announcer takes the audience through the various acts. The energy among so many Olympians waiting to get let out of the gate is electric and there are moments when I light up with it, but then the current fizzles inside me. Today’s failed practice has really gotten me down. Coach Chen is flustered and annoyed too.