Picks & Pucks (31 page)

At first I thought about composing a long love letter, outlining all my feelings, but in the end I decided on short and to the point.

Dear CJ,

I know you have a game and cannot be at the event, but I wanted you to have the tickets. I want to try and be with you, if you’ll give us a chance. If you don’t want me, you can sell the tickets. These are good seats, so you’ll probably get some good money out of them. I’ll know your answer if I see some stranger sitting in your seat.

Justin

My dreams were filled with people fading in and out of my life. I didn’t think I’d slept more than a few hours and my body protested loudly when I crawled out of bed.

“L
ET
’
S
GO
,”
Janae shouted at me one more time.

“I’m coming,” I said. I felt slightly stuffy and a bit achy. I glared at my reflection and drank a glass of water.

“About time,” she said. “Eli is already at the airport. He’s called eleven times wondering where we are.”

I rolled my eyes and trudged out to the waiting cab. I closed my eyes and slept on the way to the airport.

“Good luck at Nationals, Justin. Give ’em hell,” the cab driver said as he handed me my suitcase.

“Thanks.” The newspaper had done an article on my bid to become national champion, so I was a bit of a local celebrity. The hockey team still got the story above the fold, but at least I was on the front page of the sports section.

He smiled warmly and shook my hand.

Janae rolled her eyes. “My famous little brother.”

“Shut up.”

Eli was so excited he could barely breathe. He shoved the newspaper in my face, pointing to his name several times. He showed it to everyone waiting for the plane to board. It was a relief when they announced it was time to leave. Eli grinned at everyone and bounded down the Jetway. I staggered after him, dragging my demons with my carry-on.

He let the entire flight crew know where we were going. I wanted to kill him. When he finally quit bouncing around, he let me rest my head on his shoulder. I fell asleep to him humming the music from
Braveheart.

U
NLIKE
THE
movies, no spotlights followed me around the ice, and I had no darkened areas to hide in if I made a mistake. Every single light in the arena was turned on and the moment I stepped on the ice, all eyes would be focused on me. And it was worse at Nationals. Cameras and reporters were everywhere.

The week was nerve-wracking. I let Brian Fonta get under my skin. He took a page out of my book and acted sticky sweet every time he saw me. He’d smile warmly and pat my shoulder or try to shake my hand. It made me nauseous.

I still wasn’t sleeping through the night and it was catching up to me. Janae tried to hide the lines of exhaustion under my eyes by caking on the makeup. She finally gave up and told me I looked like Lord Voldemort. I coughed and sneered at her.

In the back of my mind, I hoped CJ would call, but he never made an effort. Danny and Spock called a few times to tell me CJ was okay. I thanked them and told them I didn’t need the updates. They both told me I was a big fat liar.

By Friday I was a wreck with pale, sweaty skin that couldn’t be written off as nerves. My head felt like it was filled with water and my chest was tight, making it difficult to take a deep breath without hacking like a cat with a giant hairball.

Eli came to pick me up before the morning warm-up.

“Justin,” he gasped.

“Don’t say a word,” I grumbled. “I’ll be fine.”

Everyone was so nervous during the morning skate that no one gave me a second glance. I hid my nose under a scarf and raced off the ice the moment practice ended. I barricaded myself in my room, drinking tons of water and juice until I was pissing every ten minutes.

I was so nervous I convinced Marina to let me ride to the rink in a separate cab, telling her I needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts. When I got to the arena, I immediately looked into the stands at the family seats. The seats were filled, but CJ wasn’t among the people. I narrowed down the location of my tickets by ticking off people I recognized. Brian Fonta’s mom and dad were sitting next to two dark-haired girls who were looking around the arena, wide-eyed and excited.

“Justin, are you okay?” Janae asked.

“Yeah, it’s not like I really thought he would come.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.” I coughed and reached for another bottle of water.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” I snapped. “Quit asking me.”

I wasn’t going to tell her my heart was breaking on top of not being able to breathe through my fucking nose. I wasn’t going to tell her my throat felt like I’d swallowed glass or that my head might explode in the middle of my program. We had all worked hard and given up a lot for this fucking moment. I would be sick and sad on Sunday after the competition was complete.

My program would bring the magic I needed to carry me through. The damn thing was only two minutes and fifty seconds. Television commercials lasted longer. I could muster up enough energy to get through the program.

The announcer called my name, and after a last-minute pep talk from Marina and a quick thumbs up from Eli and Janae, I stepped on the ice, gliding to my starting spot. I flashed a genuine smile at the judges.

The arena went quiet, so the only sound ringing in my ears was my own raspy breathing. I needed the music to start, to support my jelly legs and heavy arms. A warm breath of air suddenly wrapped around my body as the familiar notes of my music began.

The audience cheered and sent out waves of energy, helping me to move. With each jump and spin, the roar grew, carrying me through my program until the final notes faded away, replaced by screams and whistles.

Through bleary eyes I spotted the girls in my seats, clapping and whispering to each other. I closed my eyes and imagined him sitting there, smiling at me and waiting with open arms to welcome me home. Instead, nothing but chilly air greeted me, along with a quick hug from a small Russian woman who gushed and fawned over me when I made it off the ice.

“Justin, that was wonderful,” she said.

“Absolutely brilliant,” Eli added and patted my back. He almost knocked me over. I managed something between a grunt and cough as I stumbled over to the kiss and cry area. I collapsed on the bench as Marina and Janae squished me, holding me upright. The program had been a fog to me, but from their reactions, I must have done okay.

The scores were high and I ended up in first place after everyone skated. Brian Fonta scowled after he stepped out of his triple axel, dropping him to third place. It was the only bright spot in my day.

“Justin,” Eli whispered when we were stuffed in the backseat of the cab.

“What?”

“You look terrible.”

“Shhhh,” I mumbled and rested my aching head on the back of the seat. I dozed on the way to the hotel, but had a small coughing fit when we were walking toward the elevator. Eli quickly pulled me into a restroom.

“Don’t tell them,” I said, leaning on him.

“Let’s get you up to bed. I’ll order some soup and some tea.”

Marina and Janae were waiting at the elevator for us. The look in both of their eyes told me they knew the truth.

“I’m calling the team doctor,” Marina said.

“No, I don’t want anyone to know,” I said.

“He will be discreet. You need fluids,” Marina said. “Take care of him and I will be back soon.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Janae asked.

“Because it doesn’t matter. As long as I can stand up, I’m skating,” I said.

Every time I woke up, Eli was by my bed, handing me a glass of cool water or juice. The doctor had come and gone, looking at me with sympathetic glances before telling me I had the worst cold known to man or beast, and he couldn’t do anything for me besides pump me full of fluids. I wasn’t about to take anything and come up with a dirty drug test because I accidentally took a cold tablet with some banned substance.

“I’m canceling your practice time tomorrow. You need rest,” Marina said.

“Everyone is going to know something is up when I don’t show,” I grumbled. “Why is this happening?”

I curled on my side and gripped the pillow, waiting for the demons to gather around my bed to throw a party or build me a coffin. The room stayed quiet except for Eli tapping on his computer.

I drifted in and out of sleep. Several times I thought I heard Eli on the phone. Once I thought I heard CJ’s voice filling the room, but I chalked it up to the fever that was frying my brain.

The only part of my body functioning normally was the part of my brain that controlled dreams. They were vibrant and brutal and made me wake up gasping for air. Each dream took another piece of my heart and stomped on it.

The most common dream was of me standing in the middle of a sheet of ice in the dark of night. Off in the distance, I could make out the shape of a person skating. The long fluid strokes reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t remember his name. I called out for him to stop, but he ignored me, and the wind started blowing the snow, obscuring my view of him.

“CJ,” I whimpered.

“Justin? Are you okay?” Eli asked.

“Not really.”

My head was pounding when I stumbled into the bathroom. All my muscles ached, but it was my blurry vision and weakness that worried me more. I felt like shit, maybe worse than yesterday.

I spent the entire day in bed. My team did the best they could to put off the reporters and their fucking nosy questions. Eli finally told them I didn’t need to practice anymore. We were ready to go and nothing I did on the ice today would affect the program tomorrow.

His statement made me out to be a cocky son of a bitch, but it was a good tactic, and the reporters stopped calling.

The only people calling regularly now were my dad and Jack. Having them so worried about me was weird, especially Jack, who insisted he needed to hear my voice. When all I could do was groan and cough, he freaked out and told me he was getting on a plane.

Eli shouted at him for me, telling him not to lose his job because I had a fucking cold. I’d be fine and would see him after the competition. He had his hands full with his new team.

The next morning, the cold was only slightly better. My head still felt like a giant block of cement attached to my body and I was swimming in snot. Eli filled the bathtub with hot water and helped me climb in.

“Don’t drown,” he muttered.

We stayed at the hotel as long as possible. Janae and Eli did the best they could with makeup. We entertained putting on the blue face paint the men had worn in the movie, but everyone would think it was a stupid gimmick and it would just detract from the program.

“I’ll look like I’ve been at war,” I said.

“You actually look like you’re knocking on death’s door,” Eli said.

“I’d punch you, but it might kill me,” I said.

Everyone sighed and helped me into my costume.

Have you ever watched your dream crumble before your eyes? It wasn’t fun. Add in an arena packed with fans plus countless people watching the event unfold on television, and it turned into a horrific event. I truly knew what William Wallace felt like when he was carted in front of the crowd waiting to view his execution. I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe.

I kept hoping I was having a nightmare. I’d had countless dreams where I’d skated naked or something went wrong with my skates. One of the weirdest dreams I had was one where the moment I stepped on the ice, it turned to water. I flailed around, screaming for someone to throw me a lifeline. Tons of people were in the arena, but they just watched me go under until the water started to fill my lungs. I’d wake up panting and clutching my chest.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t asleep and the longer I stood behind the curtain, waiting for my turn to skate, the more reality slapped me in the face. The cheers from the crowd as the other skaters completed their routines filled my ears. When I stepped around the curtain, my dreams were going to turn to dust before my eyes, and a few million casual viewers would get to watch me fall apart.

Marina walked by and patted my shoulder, stopping to look into my eyes for any sign of weakness. My competition mask had been lowered and my face showed no signs of my failing health. It was caked with so much makeup no one would realize I was sick until I collapsed in a heap in the middle of the ice.

“You do not need to do this,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do,” I said.

She sighed and slipped something into my hand.

“You need this more than I do.”

She disappeared down the hall. In my hand was a small silver cross. It was the necklace Marina had worn since she was a little girl. Her grandmother had given it to her the night before she had died, telling Marina it had helped her survive the war, famine, and persecution for her beliefs in equal rights for all. Marina always said her grandmother was a pioneer and made Marina believe she could do anything. I traced the delicate lines of the cross before hooking it around my neck and tucking the cross in my shirt. The movements wore me out.