Fighting for the Edge (5 page)

The pressure is on.

Nick rolled his shoulders under his blousy purple shirt and then did a few knee bends and quick bounces on his skate guards. His antsy behavior had made her nervous when they were kids, but over the years she’d become more than used to it.

The Germans exited the ice, and Aubrey and Nick hopped on hand-in-hand. As they circled the rink to keep their legs warm, the announcer rattled off the scores, a series of numbers Aubrey could barely decipher. That was one of the good things about the new scoring system. Hearing the marks of other teams now wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the days when “6.0!” was bellowed through the arena.

Nick guided her over to their coaches at the boards, and Natalia patted their hands. “Aubrey, you are beautiful flower. Nicholas, you are powerful stem. You present her beauty to the world.”

Aubrey smiled and let Natalia’s poetic words seep into her mind.
Beauty, power, strength.
Those were the keys to a successful free dance.

She and Nick glided to center ice, where he bent on one knee and she draped herself forward over his back. When the third beat of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony sounded, Nick rose, lifting Aubrey with him. They took their time settling into the music before they approached the first difficult element – the combination lift.

Beauty, power, strength,
she reminded herself.

Nick picked her up, and she set one skate on his thigh as he glided in a straight line down the ice. Aubrey stood tall and focused on extending down to her fingertips, striking a statuesque pose. She felt like she was the mast of a ship. Dropping into Nick’s arms, she closed her eyes as he whirled her in circles, swirling the cold air around her in a chilly blur.

Nick set her down, and she tossed her head back for both dramatic effect and to whip her long hair out of her face. They transitioned into traditional ballroom hold and powered into the serpentine footwork sequence, the most physically demanding element. Every turn had to be crisp, every edge perfectly placed in order to attain the highest score possible.

Aubrey pushed deeper into the ice, trying to ignore the growing burn in her quad muscles. They were almost finished with the sequence, having traveled the full length of the rink. Soon they could take a quick breather with a choreographed rest.

The crowd applauded the footwork but turned quiet as the music slowed, and she and Nick relaxed along with the melody. They floated through the steps, and a rejuvenating shot of adrenaline boosted her energy. She felt strong, ready to tackle the rest of the program.

One by one they ticked off the remaining elements, eliciting louder applause upon each lift and twizzle. With only the final rotational lift to go, Aubrey pulled in a deep breath and stretched her left leg onto Nick’s shoulder. He pressed her up into the air and started to spin with her in a full split position.

Nick grunted, and she felt his feet wobbling as they rotated at rapid speed. At any moment they might spin out of control, and she had visions of herself flying off into the audience. She clutched her arm tighter around his neck and squeezed her eyes shut.

Hang on, Nick!

He steadied himself while coming out of the rotation, and he set her down gently, although with less flair than he usually presented. She heard him exhale, and they quickly twirled into their ending pose, arms outstretched toward each other.

Nick’s eyebrows rose with a we-just-averted-disaster look, and he grabbed her into a long hug.

“That was a little scary,” she said above the crowd’s cheers.

“Totally off balance,” he said between catching his breath.

“I’m just glad I didn’t end up in someone’s lap.”

They parted to take their bows while gifts poured onto the ice. Skating around the flowers and stuffed animals, they met Peter and Natalia at the ice door and exchanged hugs and double-cheek kisses.

“Good save on the lift.” Peter nodded to Nick.

“No way was I going down,” he said and sat on the white couch in the kiss and cry, where they’d wait for the scores.

Aubrey plucked a tissue from the box beside the couch and sat next to Nick. Peter and Natalia flanked them and immediately began analyzing the replay on the monitor. As Aubrey blotted the perspiration on her forehead, she watched the slow-motion video of the final lift and realized just how close Nick had been to losing his footing.

The announcer came over the sound system, and the crowd hushed to hear the score. Again, the numbers meant little to her. She trained her eyes on the spot on the monitor where the placement would be shown. With the top two teams left to skate, she wanted to see the number one.

“… for a total score of one hundred and fifty point four four!” the enthusiastic Japanese announcer boomed. “They are currently in first place!”

“Yeah!” Nick cried and pulled her into an embrace.

She pumped her fist against his back. They were guaranteed a medal, which would boost their résumé ahead of their big showdown with Marley and Zach at nationals. Prior results weren’t supposed to factor into the judges’ marks, but everyone knew they did. She and Nick had proven they could stand on the podium with the best in the world. Now they just needed to back it up with great skates in St. Louis.

They exited backstage, and Em flew toward Aubrey with her arms open. “You were amazing!”

“It got a little dicey near the end,” Aubrey said, returning her hug.

“I knew Nick would hold it together. He’s a rock, just like Chris.”

“That’s right. Partners of the Year right here.” Nick pointed to himself and Chris, who’d joined their celebration.

“The year?” Chris corrected him. “How about the century?”

Em let out a single laugh. “It’s sad how little self-confidence you guys have.”

The federation’s media coordinator beckoned Aubrey and Nick toward the “mixed zone,” the gathering area for the journalists, so Aubrey gave Em’s hands a quick squeeze.

“You’re gonna kill it tonight. I’ll be out there screaming like mad for you.”

“And then we’ll party it up,” Nick added as they backed away. “Drinks on me!”

****

Three hours later, Chris and I wore our game faces as we prepared to take the ice for our six-minute warm-up. Well, Chris wore his version of a game face, which was always an inexplicably calm smile. In our seven years together, he’d helped me become less manic before a performance, but I still hadn’t figured out how to achieve his level of serenity.

“From the United States – Emily Butler and Christopher Grayden!”

We shot off across the ice, stroking in tandem behind Maddy and Damien. Every time I heard my maiden name used, I questioned why I let our agent Kristin talk me into keeping it for professional purposes. My legal surname was Petrov, but Kristin thought I should use Butler for an “All-American” image. I just kept reminding myself how much our endorsement money was helping my dream house fund.

With our legs sufficiently warm, we set up for the side-by-side triple Lutzes, and I narrowed my thoughts to envision the perfect jump. Chris and I glided backward and simultaneously jabbed into the ice with our right toepicks, vaulting ourselves into the air. I spun three times and landed on one foot, wincing as my knee throbbed from the impact.

Chris had also completed his jump cleanly, and he smiled and reached for my hand. “Ready for the throw?”

My stomach danced with anxiousness. I’d landed the quad Salchow twice at practice that morning, but I’d also crashed once on my right knee, which tomorrow would be the same color as my black velvet dress.

Think
positively.
You can do this.

The Canadians and the Chinese team were on the opposite end of the rink, so Chris and I ramped up speed and executed an easy throw double Salchow to get comfortable with the timing. As we skated past Sergei at the boards, he nodded and smiled, and I sped up the pep talk in my head.
Sergei believes in you. Chris believes in you. Trust in yourself.

We threaded through the traffic of the other two pairs, and Chris set his hands on my hips, preparing for the take-off of the throw. In one quick motion, I swung my right leg forward and around, and Chris propelled me upward. The crowd became a blur as I pulled my arms tight to my chest and did four revolutions. I sensed the ground coming too fast, too soon, and my heart pounded in my ears. My crossed feet hitting the ice confirmed my fear. I couldn’t stand up straight.

My rear end slammed into the ice, and I slid toward the boards, hitting the wooden barrier with a loud thud. Pain vibrated through my ribs and down my spine.

Chris bent over me and offered his hands. “You okay?”

He pulled me up, and I went to rub my back but saw Maddy and Damien eyeing me as they skated past us. I stood up straighter.

“Yeah, I just need a minute.”

We skated slowly along the boards until we reached Sergei. He handed me my water bottle and leaned toward me. His eyes didn’t blink as he stared into mine. “Are you alright?”

I took a quick drink and nodded. All eyes in the audience were on me, and I wasn’t going to show them any sign of pain. Chris brushed a patch of ice from my filmy skirt, and I checked my stockings for any more evidence of the crash. After patting a bit of water from my thighs, I did a series of squats and stretches to shake off the ache in my back.

Chris glanced up at the clock on the scoreboard. “Should we run through one or two of the lifts?”

“No, just take the last minute to cool down,” Sergei said. “You had a great practice this morning.”

The faces in the crowd gave me concerned looks as I stroked around the rink. When the clock ticked down to zero, I scooted off the ice and snapped my skate guards over my blades before heading backstage. Sergei draped my team jacket over my shoulders and looped his arm around me.

“How’s your back?”

“It’s feeling better.”

The right side of my ribs screamed a different response, but I knew my body, and I’d skated through worse falls. I could get through a four-minute program.

Time dragged at an agonizing rate as we waited for our turn to skate. I paced back and forth in a straight line between Sergei and Chris, blocking out their idle chatter. Our choreography ran through my mind, and I tried to channel the emotion of each move. Sergei and I had created the program together one night at the rink when we’d had the ice all to ourselves. We’d played the entire thirty-seven minutes of Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 2 and just skated around, feeling where the music took us, finding the right stanzas to explore. Every second of the program had meaning to me, and I wanted to perform it perfectly every time Chris and I skated.

Our team leader motioned to Sergei, so he ushered Chris and me rinkside. I faced away from the ice so I wouldn’t see how Maddy and Damien were skating, but I couldn’t shut out the loud cheers. The more I heard, the more jittery my legs became.

Chris stepped in front of me and grasped both of my hands. “We’re gonna nail this.”

I bobbed my head up and down, focusing on Chris’s warm hands instead of the deafening applause surrounding us.
We can do this. We WILL do this.

A minute later, we shed our skate guards and took the ice. Adrenaline dulled my back pain, and I zoomed around the rink, ears on alert for the Canadians’ marks. I’d studied all the numbers, and I knew our top score for the season. Would Maddy and Damien top it?

The announcer read the free skate score and then gave their combined total with the short program. My neck tensed. Two points higher than our season’s best. We were going to have to land the quad to win.

I slowed my pace as Chris skated to my side. We stopped before Sergei, and he gave us a confident smile.

“You’ve improved this program at every competition, and you’re ready to take it another step right here, right now.”

Chris and I both took deep breaths, and Sergei locked eyes with each of us. “Show them your determination. Show them your hearts.”

I gazed at him for a long moment, connecting with his confidence, and then I put my hand in Chris’s. Our names were called, and the audience erupted with a long ovation. As the final skaters, we had the marquee position – the chance to close out the event with a bang. And hopefully not me banging into the wall again.

No doubting yourself! You rule the ice tonight!

Chris stood behind me and wrapped his arms around me for our opening pose. I covered his arms with mine, gripping the silky material of his white shirt. The first notes resonated through the arena, but we didn’t move. Our stillness plus the intense piano set the mood we wanted.

Then we began.

We gained speed with just a few strokes, charging into our first element, the triple twist. Chris tossed me above his head, and I spun in a tight coil before falling into his strong catch. Continuing forward, we followed the rise of the music and hit our side-by-side triple Lutzes right on the highest note. The audience roared with approval, and we soared through the next few elements.

Soon the music would transition to the adagio movement of the concerto. But first we had to do the quad. As we made long, sweeping crossovers together, setting up for the throw, I played one image on a constant loop in my mind – my body flying through the air and landing with a perfect ride-out and a big smile.

See it, believe it, achieve it!

Chris pressed my hips and launched me up and away from him. I had so much air under me I felt like I’d exploded out of his hands. My four rotations were crisp and fast, and I loosened my legs, preparing for the landing. One foot met the ice, just like in my imagination, and a surge of excitement jolted through me.

I’ve got it! We did it!

I spread my arms wide to hold my balance, and I looked up at Chris skating toward me. His grin couldn’t be any bigger. The knowledgeable Japanese fans realized they’d just witnessed history, and I could barely hear Chris above their noise.

“Stay focused,” he said.

I wanted to jump up and down in celebration, but I had to compose myself. The slow section of the music would be a good time to do that. We paused at center ice and looked into each other’s eyes, holding the moment as the tempo changed. It was my favorite part of the program, where I could get lost in the emotion of the music and the lyrical choreography and not have to think about the jumps.