Bravo, Mia

by Laurence Yep

  “Welcome to the pressure cooker,” Chad said to Anya. He and Izumi had sneaked up on us in the mob.

  “There are so many people!” Anya said, looking dazed.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Izumi said with a smile.

  “Chad, Izumi,” a woman said, “could I have a few words with you for my fanzine?”

  I turned to see a middle-aged woman with a small digital voice recorder.

  “You’ll get used to this, too.” Chad winked.

  “Of course,” Izumi said politely to the woman, “but may we introduce you to our clubmates first? This is Anya Sorokowski and Mia St. Clair.” She indicated the woman. “Anya, Mia, this is Yvette Polk, figure skating’s number one fan.”

  Chad added, “This is their first Regionals, and they’re definitely skaters to watch.”

  Ms. Polk nodded to us as she said, “Pleased to meet you.”

  As Ms. Polk led Izumi and Chad away to find a quiet corner, I just stood there in a glow, happy that they had treated Anya and me as equals.

  When some bright lights went on, I noticed the television reporter Lillian Chin interviewing Coach Schubert. I guess our television station had decided to follow the doings of our local Olympic celebrity.

  “I wish Vanessa’s father could see this,” I said to Anya.

  “Speak of the deviled egg.” Anya jerked her head toward the counter.

  Mr. Knowles was there, arguing in turn with the clerk at the desk and with someone on his cell phone. “My secretary made this reservation months ago,” he said to the clerk and then, as the clerk started to reply, Mr. Knowles put up an index finger so that he could talk on the phone. “Yes, I know I promised, but it will have to wait until next week.” He winced now and then as he listened to the caller’s response.

  Vanessa sat on a suitcase nearby, drumming her heels against the floor impatiently. “Daddy, make that clerk give us our room.”

  “Excuse…excuse…excuse me.” It took a few moments before Mr. Knowles could get a word in edgewise with his caller. Then, still keeping the phone to his ear, he faced the clerk again. “Look, forget the suite. We’ll take anything you’ve got.”

  The clerk raised his hands. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have even a supply closet to spare. The hotel’s all booked up.”

  Mr. Knowles gestured for the clerk to wait while he talked to his caller once more. “You can hardly expect my daughter to sleep on a sofa in the lobby. No, my wife isn’t here. She got called away on business. She won’t be back until later.”

  Mom glanced at Mrs. Sorokowski, who nodded, and then she turned to us and raised an eyebrow. “I bet we could fit a cot into our room, girls.”

  I would sooner have shared a room with a porcupine than with Vanessa, and from Anya’s expression, so would she.

  “Coach Schubert said that we’re all teammates,” I reminded Anya weakly, hoping that she would object.

  She only sighed. “And Chad and Izumi just treated us as teammates.”

  “I guess it’s okay,” I said to Mom.

  Mom could move pretty fast on her crutches now, and she started forward with Mrs. Sorokowski’s hotel confirmation in her hand. “Excuse me. Emergency. Invalid coming through…No need to get huffy with me, lady! I’m not taking your spot in line—I’m just trying to help someone out,” she said as she made her way to the front of the line, where Mr. Knowles was still trying to argue simultaneously with his caller and the clerk.

  “Hello,” Mom said to Mr. Knowles. “I’m Eve St. Clair, and we’re in Vanessa’s skating club. Assuming that we have a room, Vanessa’s welcome to stay with us.”

  Relieved, Mr. Knowles lowered his cell phone. “Yes, I remember you, Ms. St. Clair. How do you do? That’s very kind.”

  To my annoyance, Vanessa looked as if she would rather sleep on a lobby sofa than in the same room with us. Well, at least we had one thing in common.

  Vanessa nearly tipped her suitcase over when she jumped to her feet. “If you have a room for them, you must have something for us.”

  “I told you, little girl”—the clerk gritted his teeth as he emphasized the last two words—“I don’t have a thing.” He glanced at the confirmation number on Mrs. Sorokowski’s receipt. After his fingers deftly danced over the keyboard, he said, “However, we do have a room for you, madam. And we can put in a cot for her.” His eyes flicked toward Vanessa as if she were the family curse.

  Her guilty father made a point of not looking at his daughter. “Thank you so much,” he said to Mom, handing her a small white business card. “Both my office and cell numbers are there, and here’s my wife’s cell number, in case you need to reach us. I’ll try to check in later.” He wrote quickly on the back of the card. Then he wheeled around to Vanessa and pecked her cheek. “Good-bye, kitten. Be good. I’ll be back in time for your program.”

  “Dad-dee!” She packed more emotion into that one word than Mayor Chuck did into a whole speech.

  Mr. Knowles winced, but he held firm. “I’m sorry, kitten. But what can I do? I’ll be back as soon as I can—and with something extra nice for you.” Snatching up his bag, he began to weave his way through the crowd as he spoke again into his cell phone. “Yes, I’m leaving right now.”

  As he left, Vanessa stared after him in shock and disbelief.

  After we finished checking in and got our keys, we headed to the elevator. The ceiling and the sides had wood paneling, and Anya and I couldn’t resist poking each other and gazing up at the elevator’s crystal mini-chandelier because neither of us had ever seen anything like it. When we got to the room, she and I immediately went to the window to admire the view.

  “What a dump.” Vanessa frowned in disgust.

  Up until then, Anya and I had been enjoying our first fancy hotel. I glanced at Anya now, and she raised and lowered her shoulders resignedly. It would have been nice to have been able to enjoy this moment with her, but we couldn’t talk about it without having Vanessa think we were hicks.

  Vanessa prodded one of the double beds. “I’ll take this one.” She plopped onto the bed.

  Mom turned on her crutches to look at Anya’s mother. “Is that all right with you, Marie, or do you and Anya prefer that bed? I think that Mia should share with Vanessa, and then I’ll take the cot. With this cast, it’ll be easier for me to sleep by myself.”

  I would rather have slept on the floor than with the divine Miss V. However, Mom insisted—to Vanessa’s and my mutual distress.

  Vanessa, of course, tried to hog most of the bureau and the hangers in the closet, so she looked as if she was ready to cry when Mom and Mrs. Sorokowski insisted we share everything equally. I don’t think Vanessa’s used to having anyone say no to her.

  When she started to take her stuff out of her suitcase, Anya and I stopped our own unpacking to watch. Vanessa had clothes and toiletries that I’d only seen advertised in slick, expensive magazines, and the closest I got to the perfume she pulled out of her bag was rubbing a sampler page on my wrist. Even Mom and Mrs. Sorokowski paused. When Vanessa became aware that she had an audience, she began a running commentary. “And this top came from a couturier in Paris. It’s a one-of-a-kind,” she said as she hung it up.

  “Ah, the City of Lights is so lovely,” Mrs. Sorokowski sighed. “What did you like best about it?”

  “Oh, I didn’t get to go.” Vanessa hesitated. “My mother brought the top back for me. It was a quick trip, so she couldn’t take me. And…and…,” Vanessa shook her head, “I was too busy training, anyway.”

  She lifted out a silky skirt next. “Daddy got this one for me in Montreal.”

  It was the same thing with all the rest of the contents of her suitcase. Each item was a souvenir given to Vanessa by her parents after a business trip without her. I bet that her clothes have traveled more than Vanessa has.

  When the rest of us had put away our things, Mom suggested we call our families. When Vanessa took out her cell phone, she brightened, telling us that she had a message
from her mother. However, her face quickly fell again. Her mother, she soon informed us, was no longer sure she could even get to Regionals. And when Vanessa tried to reach her father, she was only able to leave a message.

  Anya and Mrs. Sorokowski called Anya’s sister and father on their cell phone. Mrs. Sorokowski had cooked and frozen meals for them, and even though she clearly had left instructions, she went over the order in which each thing should be thawed and for how long.

  Bored, Vanessa began flipping through the pages of a magazine she had found in the room.

  As Mrs. Sorokowski reviewed the cooking schedule, I whispered to Mom, “Dr. Sorokowski teaches physics at the college. Couldn’t he figure it out?”

  “She just wants to fuss over them a little bit and let them know she cares,” Mom explained.

  Later, Mom did the same sort of thing when we called home. When it was my turn to talk, all three of my brothers tried to speak to me simultaneously—which meant they were shouting into the receiver. Naturally, my voice got louder in response—loud enough that Vanessa looked up from her magazine curiously.

  “And don’t worry, Sis,” Perry assured me, “we’ll take good care of your animals.”

  “I don’t have any pets,” I pointed out…but I did have stuffed animals. “Did you go into my room? Didn’t you see the no-trespassing sign?”

  “Ohhh, is that what you wrote?” Perry asked.

  “Your handwriting’s terrible, Mia,” Rick yelled.

  “You harm one fiber on them, and I’ll…” I began. Mom made a gesture for me to give her the telephone again. But I shook my head. I’d handle my brothers on my own. “Perry, I will let everyone know who you had a crush on last summer. Rick, I will broadcast to your school and team the disgusting things you used to do and blame on your imaginary friend, Mr. Sniggles. And Skip—”

  “We’ll put them back! We’ll put them back,” Skip promised frantically.

  “And the three of you will stay out of my room from now on, unless invited back in,” I said firmly.

  I was grinning as I handed the telephone back to my mother.

  “And I know even more embarrassing dirt about you boys than your sister does,” Mom warned them. “I realize it’s too much to expect you to actually be gentlemen while we’re gone, but I want you to try to approximate trained apes, at least. Got it?” From her satisfied expression when she hung up, I could see that she felt she had done her job in keeping the boys in line.

  “So give with the dish,” I said eagerly. “What else did they do?”

  Mom patted me on the head. “Down, girl. For every secret I tell you, I’d have to tell them a secret about their little sister. A mother has to be fair, you know.”

  “Where does it say that in the Mommy Manual?” I grumbled.

  Mom plugged the cell phone into the charger and set it on the nightstand. “On page twenty-five. It’s in big, bold type.”

  I was about to remind her that we girls have to stick together when I saw Vanessa staring at us, looking as if we had just stepped out of a flying saucer. I guess she and her mother don’t have fun with each other this way. Well, whenever I see Mrs. Knowles, every hair looks as if it were sprayed in place. She’s very elegant, but she isn’t the sort of person I would tease, either, if she were my mother.

  And Vanessa looked even more puzzled when, during dinner in a restaurant, Anya and I kept snagging tidbits from our mothers’ plates and from each other. Vanessa didn’t seem to understand that it was just another game among us.

  That made me wonder just what Vanessa actually does with her parents, but maybe it’s like this afternoon—maybe they are just so busy making money that they don’t have much time for her. I guess they buy her expensive presents to make up for not being around.

  That evening, I put on Perry’s lucky jersey, which he had loaned to me temporarily. I was even more touched that he had thought to wash it for me first. It was so big that I could wear it like a nightgown. As we watched television and I snuggled up against Mom and Anya cuddled against her mother, I actually felt sorry for Vanessa, who sat by herself, painting her nails.

  Even though Vanessa seems to get everything she asks for, and we St. Clairs seem to struggle for everything we get, I don’t think I would trade places with her. I’d much rather have Mom next to me than have a whole bunch of things in a suitcase. I think that, at that moment, Vanessa would rather have had a mother like mine, too.

  And later that night, I was sure that I didn’t want to trade places with Vanessa. I woke when I felt her stirring in the bed. As I lay there listening to everyone else sleeping softly, I heard an odd, muffled sound.

  I rolled over to check on Vanessa. There was enough light from the street to see her shoulders shaking as she pressed her face into the pillow.

  Worried, I sat up and leaned over her. “Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

  When she lifted her face from the pillow, I saw that her eyes were puffy and her pillow was damp from what must have been her tears. “None of your business,” she snapped.

  “If you’re feeling sick, I’ll wake Mom,” I offered.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said, and she hid her face back in her pillow.

  She seemed so miserable, though, that I couldn’t do that. “You can talk to me. I’m on my own a lot. My mom’s usually busy with work, just like yours is. If she hadn’t broken her leg, she never would have been able to come for the whole trip.”

  Vanessa’s voice came stifled from the pillow. “You certainly get along well enough when you are together.”

  “Yeah, but your dad will be back soon. And I bet your mom will make it, too,” I whispered.

  “Unless something important comes up,” she insisted. “And it usually does.”

  “But this is Regionals,” I said in disbelief.

  She turned her head so that she could give me a superior look. “Grow up. Not all parents are like yours. Mine always let me down in the end.”

  “That’s not true,” I insisted.

  “How would you know?” she snapped at me again. She saw the pity in my eyes and glanced away. “If I didn’t have skating,” she confessed in a softer tone, “I don’t know what I would do.”

  I hadn’t realized how lonely Vanessa must be. She’s an only child, so if she doesn’t trust her parents, she really has no family to depend on. And when I thought about it, the only person Vanessa hangs around with is Gemma, and Gemma is sort of a mirror image of Vanessa.

  They’re both spoiled, and they show it. And the only thing they do together, besides showing off their expensive stuff, is make fun of other people. It’s no wonder that no one else wants to be around them. Maybe if they had a choice, they wouldn’t be with each other either.

  I was willing to bet that even when Vanessa is with Gemma, she still feels as lonely as if she were by herself.

  Maybe that’s why she acts high-and-mighty—so people won’t know how she really feels inside.

  The next day we went to practice at the arena where the competitions would take place.

  The arena itself looked like a huge half-cylinder buried on its side. Outside, a marquee over the entrance welcomed the regional skaters, and inside, the ceiling was so high that the bright lights hung like miniature suns. Orange seats rose up on all sides, like the scales of a plastic crocodile.

  Though it was early in the morning, there was already a skater on the ice, practicing her routine under her coach’s watchful eye. Other skaters and coaches sat near the rink, chatting while they waited their turns. Coach Schubert was with them, and when she saw us, she waved. I was surprised, though, to see another fifty or so people scattered around the stands. I motioned to the other folks sprinkled about the seats. “Who are they?”

  Vanessa dumped her bag down on a seat and pointed to a small group sitting nearby. “Skating fans,” she said. “They’re here to see the new talent, especially her.” She pointed to a tall girl about our age with curly brown hair pulled back off her face.
“Paige is from the Belmont Skating Club.”

  If there is a powerhouse skating club in the area, the Belmont is it.

  “I hear the Belmont has two rinks,” Anya said in awe.

  “They’ve sent a lot of senior-level skaters to Nationals,” Vanessa explained, “and the best in our group level is Paige Clement. During the skating season, she’s at a different competition every weekend. The list of the stuff she’s done is as long as my arm.” She nodded at a blonde girl with short hair next to Paige and a girl with long black hair. “And they’ve got lists almost as long.” They were all wearing jackets dotted with pins.

  For a moment, I felt nervous because they were exactly the kind of competition Rick had been afraid of, but Vanessa started down the steps.

  “Where are you going?” Mrs. Sorokowski asked.

  Vanessa glanced at Paige. “To say hello, of course.”

  Anya hesitated, unsure if we should go with Vanessa, but Vanessa waved at her to stay put. “We’ve already met, but they don’t know you.” She made it sound as if she belonged to an exclusive club and we didn’t.

  Mom dug a bag of dried apple snacks from her backpack and ripped it open. “Here, girls,” she said, handing it around.

  Mrs. Sorokowski rummaged around some more in Mom’s backpack, rejecting each item that she found in there. “Healthy. Pah, healthy. Healthy.” She looked up, disappointed. “No chips?”

  “I warned Mrs. St. Clair about your blood pressure,” Anya explained.

  Mrs. Sorokowski’s eyes narrowed. “And who told you?”

  “Dad told me.” Anya shrugged. “I want you around for a long time.”

  “We all do, Marie,” Mom said.

  With a grunt, Mrs. Sorokowski took a handful of snacks and began crunching them, but she didn’t look very happy about it. “I know that junk food’s not good for me, but I find that things always taste better with salt and barbecue sauce…although I should set a better example for my daughter!”