Dana Mentink - Race for the Gold

“Knee and elbow, ribs,” she said, ticking off the list. “That about covers it.” She looked to Coach Stan. “What now?”

“Now you rest up. Medic will check you out more thoroughly in a bit. Tomorrow we have a twelve-hour training day if you’re up for it.”

“I am.”

He smiled. “I thought you’d say that. We’ll do another practice race at the end of the week. Tonight you take it easy and let us know if you have any confusion.”

“More than usual, you mean,” Laney said.

Coach Stan patted her hand. “When you catch your breath, we’ll talk it through, look at your dad’s tapes.”

Her father nodded and held up the video camera that he was never without. “Got it all right here.”

Coach Stan made more notes on his clipboard and turned to talk to another trainer. “All right everybody. Change and we’ll meet up for dinner in a half hour.” And that was that. He hadn’t posed the real question. Was she strong enough to win races and compete the following week to snatch at spot at the Winter Games?

For now, she would have to be content to wait. She pulled off the hood of her skin suit and unzipped it a few inches to cool her overheated muscles. Unlacing the boots, she took off the skates and put them in her bag. Max stood a few feet away, arms folded, brows drawn together under a shock of black hair that he’d let grow too long. She kissed her father. “I’m okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”

The girls from the race had collected on the nearby benches, removing their skates and discussing their own performances, cheeks pink from exertion, coaches and trainers mingling about. Tanya whispered something to Beth. Laney made her painful way to Max and they strolled to a quiet corner, both gazing out across the ice.

He looked at her closely. “I was tracking you, Laney. The race was pitch perfect until you made the second turn. What happened?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Something felt off in my right skate.”

There was an accusatory glint in his sapphire eyes.

“What?” she demanded.

“Sure you didn’t lose your focus?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It was the skate.”

He frowned.

“All right, spill it,” she said, half-playfully. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do,” he said after a long moment. “But we’ve been having trouble with your concentration, and your skates haven’t bothered you at all recently.” He blew out a breath. “It’s all up here,” he said, tapping his head. “You’ve got to put yourself in the zone and stay there.”

A small flame licked at her stomach, and her playful mood was gone. “I was in the zone, fully focused and with my game brain on. It was the skate.”

The girls turned their faces in Laney’s direction as they got up and left the arena, headed for their quarters. Coach Jackie gave them a curious glance before she shuttled Beth along, helping tote her gear. Laney allowed Max to put his arm around her shoulder, annoyed that his touch made something happen to her breathing.

“I understand what you’ve been through better than anyone else,” Max said in low tones. “But you’ve got to push through that and deliver. The past has to remain on the benches when it’s race time.”

She saw herself reflected in the blue depths of his eyes, her outline blurred and morphed into a different shape. “Max,” she said, pulling away a step, “I’m not you, so don’t put your stuff on me.”

His mouth thinned. “I’m talking as your trainer, Laney. That’s all.”

“And you don’t think I’m focused enough because of what happened years ago?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to get inside your head.”

“The problem isn’t in my head for once, it’s in my skate, so you should focus on that.”

“I’m going to tell you what you need to hear to win, whether you want to listen or not,” he snapped. “That’s what your father pays me to do.”

She knew from the anger kindling in his voice that she’d pushed back too much. It was true, she had struggled with focus throughout the season and his assumption about her performance today was understandable. She sighed. “I know you’re trying to correct a mistake here, but I didn’t make it, not this time. It was the skate.” She hated the way that sounded like a lame excuse. Blaming the equipment was for rookies.

“All right,” he said, wide shoulders stiff. “Let’s take a look.”

She returned to the bench and found her gear bag. She fished out the left skate and handed it to him, reaching into the bag for the other. It took two seconds for her to make sense of it. “My right skate is gone.”

Max helped her hunt under the benches and in every darkened crevice. There was no sign of the missing skate.

“One of the girls must have picked mine up by accident.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “No way. Not this level of athlete.”

He was right. Speed skaters relied on their equipment like world-class musicians cherished their instruments. They didn’t take the wrong skate accidently. Practical joke by Tanya or Beth or any of the other girls? She couldn’t imagine it.

Laney felt at an utter loss. “How could it have walked away on its own?”

“It couldn’t,” Max said, blue eyes gone dark in the gloom. “Someone made it disappear.”

TWO

Max reported the missing skate, and a full complement of coaches and competitors returned to scour the arena.

Beth flipped back her sleek bob of hair. “This is ridiculous. Laney, did you go anywhere? To the bathroom or something and leave it there?”

Laney’s cheeks flushed pink. Max realized that the result of Laney’s brain injuries was more public than he had known.

“She was here talking to me the whole time,” he said.

Beth skewered him with a look. “So what you’re implying is someone stole her skate? What would be the point, exactly? To cut her out of the competition?” She laughed. “Sorry, Laney, but we’re not that scared of you. At least I’m not.”

Max would have let her have it, but Laney giggled.

“You should be. I’m ferocious, didn’t you know that?”

Beth grinned. “Yeah, that’s you. Ferocious. Still sleep with your night-light on?”

“Of course. Keeps the monsters away.”

Max marveled at Laney’s easy smile, the positive glow in all circumstances that puzzled him. She should be a gold medalist already—she had the skill, the natural gift and the work ethic to match, and yet he could not find resentment in her face, the resentment that was so alive in his own soul.

Jackie finished her examination of the top tier of seats and returned. “There is no sign of it.” Her eyes scanned the arena thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking?” Max asked.

“Nothing, I’m sure. I was just considering that there are no strangers here, the girls, the coaches, the trainers, the custodians. No strangers...”

He finished her thought. “Except the guy who wanted to talk to Laney.”

“Who?” Laney asked.

“A reporter,” Jackie said with disdain. “I told him to leave.”

“So did I,” Max said. “But I didn’t actually see him go, did you?”

Jackie shook her head solemnly. “I was down on the ice, timing Beth. But what reason would he have for taking her skate?”

“Not one that I can think of,” Max muttered.

Beth wrapped an arm around Laney. “You have spare skates?”

“She’s got other pairs,” Max said.

Beth gave him a sassy smile. “Yeah, I figured. Just thought I’d see if she needed to borrow temporarily or something.” She followed her coach through the exit.

Laney sighed. “That was nice.”

Nice? Max wondered. Or patronizing? Top-quality speed skates for skaters at this level were custom-made, the boots constructed using molds of the skater’s feet, and there was no possible way for Laney to skate any kind of a race wearing borrowed gear. Beth knew that as well as he did. She also knew they cost upward of three thousand dollars a pair.