Life on the Edge (15 page)

All statements I’d heard during our interviews and from the fans. If we mucked up the short program, I’d go back to being known as the girl who choked under pressure.

Chris and I took the ice for our introduction, and the massiveness of the arena struck me. We’d practiced there earlier in the week, but full to capacity with screaming fans, the building suddenly appeared ten times bigger. The Celtics and Bruins banners hanging from the rafters seemed miles away.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

The announcer’s voice boomed, and my eyes popped open.

“She represents the Skating Club of Boston, while he comes to us from the Lighthouse Figure Skating Club in Dennis, Massachusetts. Please give a warm welcome to Emily Butler and Christopher
Grayden
.”

The audience erupted, their vigor rattling through me. I settled next to Chris to begin, and he whispered, “We got this.”

Our music filled the air, and my body reacted with a jolt of movement. We’d trained this program almost every day for eight months. The choreography was practically a reflex now. But the upcoming triple twist required more than reflexes. I needed a strength and power I didn’t feel in my legs at the moment.

Gritting my teeth and saying another prayer, I flew straight up and muscled three rotations. I descended into Chris’s waiting hands, and the crowd responded with thundering applause. A spark of confidence spread from my fingers to my toes.

With each completed element, I gained strength. After we nailed the jumps, we put more of our energy into the choreography, and the audience was with us every step, clapping along to the Spanish suite. Chris pressed me up into our overhead lift, and the wind blew across my smile, drying my lips. The crowd “oohed and
aahed
” as we covered three-quarters of the rink. Upon the clean set down, the cheers rang louder and didn’t lower while we whirled into our final move, the pair spin.

Right on the highest note of the music we spun to a stop, and a shower of applause and gifts rained down on us. My body relaxed with a deep exhale as Chris hugged me.

One shrill cheer stood out from the rest, and I spotted my sixteen-year-old cousin Bri running down the aisle. She flung a pink garment onto the ice, so I skated over and retrieved it, giving her a wave as I headed for the Kiss & Cry. I unrolled the bundle and discovered a pink Red Sox jersey bearing number five for my favorite player,
Nomar
Garciaparra
.

Chris laughed but then complained, “No Orioles jersey for me?”

I giggled. “Not in
Bahston
.”

Sergei met us with a satisfied smile. “Best short this season.”

I basked in the glow of his praise, unable to stop grinning. We filed onto the bench in the Kiss & Cry, and I slipped the jersey over my costume. With a wave to the TV camera, I pointed at the front of my shirt. “Thank you, Boston!”

Sergei offered us a couple of tissues, and I patted my face. The bright television lights positioned on us were making me sweat even more. On the monitor, the first of numerous 5.8’s flashed, and Chris let out a quiet, “Yes.” The scores reflected Sergei’s assessment of our program–5.8’s for technical merit and 5.9’s for presentation, the highest we’d received all season.

Our names showed at the top of the leaderboard, and Chris and I high-fived. On my other side, Sergei squeezed his arm around my shoulders.

“You took a big step forward tonight,” he told us. “Let’s keep the momentum going.”

I gazed up at the
Jumbotron
and our names in first place. In forty-eight hours, we could be national champions.

The gold medal was so close I could feel it hanging around my neck.

****

After lunch the next afternoon, Aubrey, Marley, and I walked to the mall connected to our hotel. My friends were competing in the free dance that night, and they needed a distraction to keep from stressing.

We came upon a kiosk selling stuffed animals, and Marley picked up a teddy bear with a red heart sewn on its chest.

“I should get this for Chris for tomorrow night.”

Aubrey shook her head. “You two are so sickeningly sweet.”

“What do you have against romance?” Marley asked.

“It’s too much effort. It’s easier to date casually and not make commitments,” Aubrey said, moving around the cart.

I petted the bear’s velvety fur. “It’s adorable. Chris will love it. I think he has something special for you tonight.”

Marley smiled, breaking into the moony look she wore whenever we talked about my partner. “How are things with you and Drew? Has he sent you any more flowers?”

Aubrey rejoined us as I said, “I told him we should just be friends. You know, since he lives in L.A. and all.”

“Oh.” Marley’s smile deflated. “That’s too bad. From what Chris said, it sounded like he was pretty into you.”

She went to the cashier, and I wandered to the adjacent kiosk, which was selling Russian nesting dolls. Aubrey followed me and stood at my elbow as I examined a doll bearing a picture of an angel.

“Is distance the only reason you blew off Drew?”

“I can’t handle more than friendship right now.” I kept my eyes on the figurine.

Aubrey lowered her voice. “I was wondering if maybe you still have a thing for Sergei.”

I carefully returned the doll to the display. “He and I can’t happen, so . . .”

“That’s not answering the question.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I said and walked briskly over to Marley.

Aubrey caught up with me, and the three of us started in the direction of the Sheraton. Viktor came toward us from the opposite side of the walkway and pointed a dark glare at Marley and Aubrey.

“You should be resting at the hotel.”

They both froze and viewed him with unblinking stares. One command from Viktor’s heavy Russian tone had that kind of power. In his mid-thirties, he wasn’t a bad-looking guy–jet black hair neatly slicked back, deep set eyes, and a firm build. But he always seemed to be appraising everything and everyone around him.

“We’re on our way back,” Aubrey said quietly.

Viktor continued to glare at her. “Don’t forget, you’re wearing your hair down tonight.”

“Yes. I know.” Aubrey sounded like a robot.

“Marley, remind Zach to bring the red tie, not the black one,” he said.

“I will,” she said in the same obedient manner as Aubrey.

Viktor left us without any further words, and we moved along in silence. The man was known for his networking prowess with judges and officials, but he sure didn’t waste any conversation on his students.

****

Watching Aubrey and Marley skate their best and win the silver and pewter medals gave me an extra boost of inspiration for the free skate. As Chris and I stood alongside the boards in the moments before our program, Sergei zoned our attention to him and empowered me even further.

“You have the courage and the ability to do this.”

I connected with the belief in his eyes and grasped Chris’s hand with purpose. My anxiousness was rooted more in anticipation than fear. I wanted to show everyone we were indeed the next great champions.

Chris and I were the last skaters of the night, so the crowd’s energy had built to a frenzied level. Above the cheers, I could barely hear our names announced. Skating to center ice, we faced one another and each placed one knee on the smooth, cold surface. I didn’t even feel the burn of the ice as I focused on Chris’s warm hands around mine.

The romantic strains of “Meditation” began, and the violin notes flowed through me. Using the ballet lessons we took as part of our off-ice training, we stretched every muscle down to our fingertips and created elegant lines to express the feeling of the music.

The calming tempo of the classical piece allowed me to relax and let my muscle memory take over. When I did my jumps, I felt like I was floating on air. After each key element, Chris gave me a slight nod, and I sensed my smile growing bigger with every tip of his head.

As we advanced further into the program, we gained speed rather than lost it. Going into our second throw jump, the triple loop, the audience was a blur as we raced past the boards. Chris seized my hips, and I set my right blade on its back outside edge, ready to push off.

He assisted me up into the air, and I knew as soon my feet left the ice that he’d thrown me with too much force. I was leaning, and the ground was coming fast.

My blade hit the ice with a thud, and I pitched forward at the waist, trying to control the momentum and avoid putting my other foot down. With all of my strength, I held my arms out for balance and kept myself upright on one leg to nail the clean landing.

Chris looked too stunned to nod this time. I squeezed his hand, and he broke into a smile as we accelerated into the closing seconds of the program. When the four and a half minutes were over, my exhausted body told me I’d poured every ounce of my heart and soul into the performance.

The audience had stood before the music ended, and I couldn’t hold back the tears as Chris embraced me.

“Thank you so much.” I wished there were stronger words to tell him how much I appreciated him as my partner and my friend.

He squeezed my shoulders. “You saved me on the loop.”

I grinned. “You’ve saved
me
lots of times.”

As we bowed, Marley ran down to the boards and tossed the teddy bear. Chris snatched it from the ice and blew Marley a kiss.

Tears blurred my contact lenses as I glided toward the ice door, so I couldn’t see Sergei clearly. When I finally saw his face, I started crying harder. His cheeks were flushed with elation, and his smile couldn’t be any bigger. He opened his arms, and I pressed my face against his chest, my tears dampening his paisley tie.

“Wow,” he said in awe.

I wanted to thank him, too, but between catching my breath from the program and choking on sobs, I couldn’t speak. Sergei embraced Chris and continued to slap him on the back as we stepped into the Kiss & Cry.

People in the crowd chanted, “Six! Six!” I laughed and soaked in every moment of the experience. The deafening cheers, the look of amazement on Chris’s face, Sergei’s proud smile–everything seemed surreal. I’d had the performance of my life when I’d needed it most, and doing it in my hometown made it even more unbelievable.

When the technical scores appeared on the
Jumbotron
, all I heard were screams of glee. 5.9’s covered the board. The presentation scores followed, and except for two 5.9’s, every other judge had given us 6.0. I put my hands over my mouth and began crying all over again. Not once in twelve years of skating had I seen the mark of perfection under my name.

Chris’s eyes expanded, and he threw his arms around me. “No way!”

My whole body shook from the excitement. We stood to wave to the audience, and I placed my hand over my heart to thank them for their support.

Our competitors showered us with congratulations as we made our way backstage. Claire and Brandon, the two-time defending champs who’d finished second, were very gracious in offering us compliments and hugs.

Sergei trailed close behind us. He stopped us outside the locker rooms and paused, appearing to gather his thoughts.

“What you did out there . . . don’t ever forget how that felt.”

“It felt darn good,” Chris said with a laugh.

A couple of Chris’s former training mates from Baltimore stole him away, leaving Sergei and me smiling at each other.

He brought me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you,
Em
.”

“Bet you never thought you’d see this day when you first started working with me. I could hardly stay upright in the lifts.”