“I doubt it.” Alex spears a tomato with his fork. “She’s been having a rough week, but I don’t think that has anything to do with you.”
I look up, my mind clearing a little. Maybe Tamar’s mood isn’t completely my fault.
Alex meets my gaze, then takes a sip of water. “Tamar’s nerves got the best of her at the test session a couple of days back. Her new coach told me she didn’t have the skate she was hoping for.”
Test session. A couple of days ago?
My pulse pounds, full-out drums at both temples. The lounge swirls out of focus, then back again, like a badly centered spin. I never sent her notes about those video clips, didn’t even finish watching them.
“Ana?”
I look up. My vision shimmers.
Alex rises, and I close my eyes. Shake my head.
A cool hand presses against my forehead. My eyes flutter open as Alex stands over me.
“Is everything all right?”
I start to nod but stop.
I’m so tired of lying.
“I don’t feel good,” I whisper.
“I can see that.” Alex lifts his hand from my head and studies me. “Let’s skip your afternoon training. Rest here until Mrs. Park arrives. I’ll text your mom so she knows what’s up.”
“Okay.” Relief tingles through my arms and legs at knowing I won’t have to skate more today.
Soon, Alex heads out to teach his afternoon lessons. My talk with Tamar replays in my head.
First, I lied to Hayden, then yelled at Mom. Now I’ve let Tamar down.
I pull out my phone. Maybe I can fix this before I go home.
11:20 a.m.: I am so sorry. Can I call you?
The read receipt appears, then an ellipsis. I wait for her to text back a yes.
The ellipsis vanishes.
Guilt burrows deep into my stomach. I wait three minutes and ten seconds, just a bit longer than my free-skate program, but it feels like years. I text her again.
11:25 a.m.: I’m calling
It rings once. Twice. Three times.
The line clicks and my heart leaps into my throat.
“Heyyy, you’ve reached… me!” Tamar’s recorded voice chirps in my ear. “I never check my messages so text, please!”
I slump in my seat, my pulse returning to its normal beat. Now my stomach’s churning.
I didn’t feel sick when Alex was here, but I sure do now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Parks drop me off at Mom’s office. She insists we can’t walk home if I feel sick, so we board the Number 5 bus. I watch Mom count out change for two fares. Every choice I make costs something.
We walk from the bus stop to our apartment in silence. Climb three flights of stairs. Slip off our shoes by the rack inside our apartment. Rung by rung, I climb the ladder to my bed. Mom’s hand is on my back, keeping me balanced.
I curl up under the sheets. I’m not cold, but my shoulders tremble as she tucks me in. There’s comfort in her warm hand on my face, in her fingers gently combing through my hair.
I want her to get in bed with me. I’d tuck my knees to my chest, my back against her stomach. I used to do that when I was little, listening to the low hum of her voice reading stories I’d chosen at the library. When she got too tired to read out loud, she’d dim the lights. Pressing her lips against the back of my head, she’d murmur my name until I fell asleep.
She hasn’t said my name in days. Not since the competition, I think.
“Tea?”
I nod, and Mom disappears under the bed rail. The moment she heads to the kitchen, I pull out my phone. No new texts. I tap into my messages, just to be sure. My last texts to Tamar stare back at me, unanswered.
The hiss of a kettle comes to me first, then the flowery scent of chamomile. I slide my phone under my pillow and sink into my mattress.
My eyelids are heavy by the time Mom returns. I want to tell her everything, but I barely have enough energy to sip my tea. I hand the cup back to her, then pull my blanket up over my head, letting the world disappear.
I open my eyes to a hint of morning light. Water’s running in the bathroom.
Everything comes back fast. Tamar snapping at me. Corinne hanging recital ads. Hayden about to discover I lied to him, if I don’t think of something quick.
I make a grab for my phone, but it’s not in its usual spot. It takes me a second to remember it’s under my pillow. I slide it out, hold my breath, click it on.
No new messages from anyone.
Not a shocker. Hayden’s probably not up yet, and Tamar’s still mad. I sigh and put it away again.
The water turns off and the bathroom door clicks open.
“You’re awake.” Mom walks toward my bed. “How are you feeling?”
I bury my face in my pillow. The next thing I know, Mom’s fingers coax me to face her.
She checks my temperature with the back of her hand. “You don’t seem to be running a fever.”
“I still don’t feel good,” I mumble.
I open one eye a sliver as Mom studies me. “You don’t think you can skate?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut.
There’s a long pause before Mom finally says something. “Okay. One more day off. I’ll text Alex and let Mrs. Park know not to stop by the office. Mrs. Lee is down the hall if you need anything. I’ll tell her you’ll be at home.”
I wish Mom could stay here with me. I wish for a lot of things, actually. But what I want most right now is to tell Mom how I feel without her being mad or disappointed that I’m not the person she thinks I am.
My eyes follow her around our apartment, until she heads out.
One more day off, then the weekend. I close my eyes, trying to pretend yesterday never happened.
I spend the weekend in
