Edge of Glory

by Rachel Spangler

  “We’ll deal with that later. Now listen to Nate.”

  “Like I said, your arms, your chest, your hips, your board, they are not separate starting mechanisms. You have to use them as one. With a slingshot you don’t think of the front part of the band and back part of the band as moving separately. You wouldn’t tug on one side, then the other. The tension has to be even throughout, and the release has to be simultaneous.”

  “But I always run through the steps in my head. First I set my arms, then I lower my head.”

  “Don’t,” Nate said. “You’re a snowboarder. Your muscles know that even if your brain doesn’t. You could assume the position in your sleep. Do it now.”

  “Riders ready,” called the gatekeeper. “Attention.”

  They popped low, and the barricade fell. Corey jerked her arms and her board jumped over the ledge. Her vision focused as the shot of adrenaline hit her veins. Her knees stayed bent as she pressed her toes toward the turn and then pumped up with her legs and hips to power over a little incline in her way. Once on the downside, she skidded to a stop, the veteran Canadian at her back, followed closely by Nikki and then the young Canadian.

  “Better,” Nate called, coming down the side to meet them on their way back up. When he got closer he said, “But you should’ve beaten the big maple leaf there. Why did you let her cut in on you?”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t want to hit her. Maybe in a real race, but we’re practicing.”

  “She’s practicing cutting you off,” Corey said bluntly.

  “What?” Nikki asked.

  “Sorry, Tigger.” Corey slapped her on the back. “We all love you, but we also want to beat you. And while we’re all working the same section of course, we aren’t all working on the same fundamentals. You’re working on getting out of the gate smoothly, but those Canadians are working on getting in front of you.”

  “And if they can do it with consistency here, you’d better believe they’ll feel better about doing it to you in the Olympics,” Nate added. “What’s more, they’re hoping you’ll believe it, too.”

  “They’re in my head?”

  “Not if you kick them out,” Corey said. “Hold your line. You’ve got as much right to be there as they do.”

  “But they’re going to hit me.”

  “They might.” She shrugged. “You’ve been hit before. You’ll get hit again. That’s part of the game, but they know as well as you do that friction slows them down. No one wants to go slower when headed into an incline and a turn.”

  Another set of racers went down behind them, and Nate glanced over his shoulder as the Canadians hiked up to the top of the hill once more. “You’ve got one more shot.”

  “To prove Matt wrong? Then I can practice with you?” Nikki asked.

  “Forget Matt. You’re not racing Matt. It’s not Matt’s neck on the line.”

  “It’s not mine, either,” Corey put in, wanting to stop any sense of obligation the kid felt to her. “You’re being challenged by another boarder, three of them. If that isn’t enough to motivate you, you don’t belong out here with us.”

  Nikki squared her shoulders. Corey turned her back and headed uphill, so Nikki wouldn’t see the grin on her face. She’d seen the spark in her eyes, the one that already told her how this would end, but she didn’t want to spoil the surprise for the kid.

  Back at the top, they got their middle slots once more, and as expected the Canadians flanked them to the outside. She pulled down her goggles and with a slight turn of her head gave Nikki a subtle nod. One corner of the kid’s mouth quirked up, but she quickly lowered and grasped the handles.

  This time when the gates fell and the board exploded forward, Corey didn’t have to look back to see how Tigger finished. Instead she could clearly see her holding fast and firm in her periphery as both Canadians fell away behind them. They approached the incline neck and neck, shoulders squared and faces focused dead ahead until Corey threw her board sideways and ground to a stop.

  There was no finish line, and Corey tried not to feel too grateful for not having to think about which one of them would’ve crossed it first. Tigger, on the other hand, only had to worry about reining in her enthusiasm. She stood right in the middle of the course beaming like she’d won gold.

  “Get out of the way,” Corey said, scooting past her to the side of the course.

  “Oh yeah. Right.” Nikki followed until they could both sit down and snap out of their bindings without the fear of being run over.

  “Totally boss,” Nate said, half jogging, half skidding across the snow to them. “You guys were flawless side by side. Like freaking Batman and Robin shooting out of the Batcave.”

  Nikki’s smile pushed her goggles up into her helmet. Corey’s grin felt more subdued.

  “All right,” Matt called, coming down to meet them at more leisurely pace. “I’m impressed.”

  “I can train with them?” Nikki asked hopefully.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” he explained. “I represent the USSA. Nate is Corey’s private trainer. She pays him. He works for her, not Team USA.”

  “Oh.” Nikki’s shoulders fell, and she turned first to Nate, then Corey. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on a private lesson. I thought we were all on the same team.”

  “It’s not really a team sport,” Nate explained, sounding a little embarrassed. “It’s every boarder for herself on the way down.”

  “Right. I get it. I just . . . well, Corey mentioned running with the big dogs . . .”

  Corey sighed. She hadn’t thought the comment through. She’d only been trying to get Matt-the-tool off the kid’s back. She didn’t mean she wanted the responsibility of carrying the weight herself. Still, Tigger seemed so damn sweet and innocent standing there, her eyes wide enough to read clearly even with her goggles on. Gah, she didn’t want a kid hanging around all season, especially one who’d almost beat her out of the gate moments before.

  “Besides,” Matt finally stepped into the awkward silence, “Corey’s at a different stage in her career. You’ll be working on different things.”

  The comment wasn’t false. It wasn’t even a shitty dig on the surface, but it made the hair on Corey’s arms stand up. She was at the end of her career, and Nikki’s was only beginning. Today, the kid had fought to keep up with her, but it might not be long before their roles reversed. She could either shy away from that challenge or meet it. She looked to Nate, the unspoken question passing between them.

  He frowned, then shrugged, then nodded grudgingly.

  “You know,” Corey said. “I think you’re right. She’s going to need different lessons, but it might be good for her to see both sides, you know? The youth side and the veteran side.”

  “What are you proposing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “She’s got to work with you, but maybe sometimes we could get together, too.”

  “We’d each keep our autonomy but coordinate a few targeted workouts a week?” Matt asked.

  He’d produced the plan a little too quickly for her comfort level. She’d been thinking of something more informal, like when they happened to sync up they’d go with it, but she supposed that wasn’t anything different than what she’d done today. If she wanted to push herself, she should probably do more than depend on happenstance. “Yeah, sure. I’ll tell Holly to get in touch.”

  “Sounds good,” Matt said, then motioned for Nikki to follow him.

  Instead she threw her arms around Corey’s neck and squeezed tightly. “Thanks, Corey. We’re going to have such fun!”

  Corey chuckled. “Fun. Yeah. That’s what I’m here for.”

  Chapter 9

  “What would you do if I went into a tuck right now and shot off down the mountain at top speed?” Elise asked

  Paolo’s face went ashen. “One of us would die.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You’d probably break your neck, or I’d have a heart attack. Or you could break
your neck, and then I’d have a heart attack. Then we’re both dead.”

  “Or I could make it down in one beautiful piece, and you could follow me at a leisurely pace, and we’d meet at the bottom.”

  “Then I’d kill you, and you’re still dead, but I go to prison.”

  “It’s been over a week,” she said flatly.

  “Over a year off, to over a week of working our way up the mountain. I don’t think the ratio is unreasonable.”

  “What if I die of boredom?”

  “What if I die from your nagging?”

  Elise’s mouth fell open, but he only laughed. “You’re trying to pick me apart like a vulture at a carcass, but I’m made of metal. I didn’t come this far to have you throw everything away now.”

  She sighed. “I know you’ve invested so much time in me, but don’t you ever worry it’s been too much time? Like we’re running out?”

  His eyes softened, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know watching the other skiers race every day hurts your pride as much as the surgery hurt your knee.”

  She swallowed a ball of emotion in her throat and looked away. From this high up, she could see much more of the mountain range. She preferred the view.

  Paulo pointed along the line of the ski lift. “Can you see the first chair from here?”

  She shook her head.

  “We were all the way down there a week ago, so far down you can’t see the point where you were then. Think about how far you came before even that.”

  She understood his point.

  “This whole journey you’ve wanted to go fast, but you need to realize you’re already speeding. Speeding through the recovery, speeding through your workouts, speeding up the mountain. Every minute, every task is fast now, but one.”

  “Which one?”

  “We need to start sliding the course slowly, and we need to do it more than once.”

  Paolo knew their program as well as she did, and even in her most frustrated moments, she trusted him. He was right about her pride, too. It was the only thing still hurting, and not reason enough to go against him. This late in the day, no one else would be around to see her scoot, inch by inch, over the terrain they flew across.

  She’d had little interaction with the other skiers since arriving. She couldn’t stand seeing them come in from the mountain every afternoon sweaty, disheveled, and smiling smugly. She hadn’t been close with many of them even before her accident, but she’d had her fair share of admirers. They respected her enough to want to keep her close. During training sessions past, she might not have responded to many of the invitations for drinks or dinner, but they’d come anyway. And no matter how many times she turned down social graces, the others never failed to show up when she hit the snow. Two years ago they would’ve all gathered to watch her runs, trying to glean some insight or advantage. Then again, two years ago they would’ve all been on the same slope to begin with. Now she didn’t even inspire curiosity in the other skiers. None of them had even made the trip down mountain to sneak a peak at her new training rituals.

  She didn’t know what made her feel worse: knowing no one cared to watch her now, or knowing that, even when they had clung close behind her, they’d never truly done so out of admiration or friendship, but rather out of competitive drive and perhaps a bit of professional jealousy. Even if she did make it to the highest peak once more, literally and metaphorically, the crowds would likely return, but only for the same reasons. The thought made her shudder.

  “Where did you just go?” Paolo asked.

  “Nowhere important.”

  “Any time your mind isn’t on this slope, it’s important,” he said seriously, then added, “Your muscles won’t react as quickly as they used to. Your brain has to make up the difference.”

  Her jaw twitched, but not with the urge to argue anymore. She’d skied enough on the lower half of the terrain to know he was right. She might have the strength, but she didn’t have the muscle memory anymore. “Let’s go.”

  He paused as if he expected another smart remark, but when none came, he nodded resolutely. “We’ll work on the starting gate later. For now, we start at the first flag.”

  She followed him at what felt like a snail’s pace, but dedicated herself to making as many mental notes as possible. Fall lines, inclines, hairpins, and cross winds—she set to memorizing them the way a child repeats multiplication tables. Turn by turn, flat to flat, flag to flag, they worked their way down for over two miles. By the time they neared the bottom, her calves screamed, not from exertion, but from the work required to restrain their natural desire to let loose. Once they reached the second to last flag, Paolo turned to her with a weary grin. “Straight shot from here. You tuck and fly.”

  “I thought I wasn’t allowed to fly.”

  “Well . . .” He finally shrugged. “I have to let you spread your wings sometime. Besides, I don’t want to disappoint your adoring fans.”

  Her cheeks burned. “Thanks for that.”

  “What?”

  “Reminding me there’s no use hurrying because no one’s waiting at the bottom?”

  “Isn’t there?” he asked, clearly trying to restrain a grin as he nodded downhill.

  Elise peered toward the finish line and, with a little focus, could make out someone standing near the fence. She couldn’t discern any distinguishing features from this distance. The observer wore the same sort of clothes and helmet favored by almost everyone else they passed on the lifts, but they also had a snowboard propped up against them, and while she couldn’t be sure, she thought she could make out the bold, white print that simply said, “Drink water.”

  She couldn’t contain her smile any more than Paolo could, and she didn’t even care to examine why. “Tuck and fly, you said?”

  Then without waiting for further instructions, she gave two hard pumps with her poles and crouched low. The final part of the course offered a steep dip, and within seconds wind whistled past her ears. Corey grew bigger and bigger in her vision until the chase abruptly ended. She threw her skis sideways, splashing up a smattering of snow across Corey’s jacket and pants. Part of her heart dropped at the realization the thrill hadn’t lasted nearly long enough, but another part couldn’t give itself over to disappointment with Corey laughing as she shook off the dusting and clapped her gloved hands.

  “What are you doing here?” Elise asked.

  “I heard a famous skier was sneaking in after-hour workouts, and I thought I’d get a peek at the comeback story of the year before everyone else jumped on the bandwagon.”

  “As you can see,” Elise gestured around the empty flat, “the crowds are pushing in from every side.”

  “They will be,” Corey said. “If that little sprint run is any indication of your progress, I won’t be able to get anywhere near you in a few months. I’ll be some lowly board bum you used to know.”

  Elise’s heart constricted at the thought of where they’d both be in a few months; then she internally chided herself. In a few months she’d be back on the tour, exactly where she wanted to be. She should find the prospect of competing full-time exhilarating for every reason. Corey’s presence now or absence then shouldn’t make any difference.

  “I like your Spanx,” Corey said as she gave her an exaggerated once-over.

  “My what?”

  “You know, your stretchy, long-john, leotard thingy.”

  “My downhill racing suit?”

  “Aw, don’t cheapen the experience for me.”

  Elise smiled. “Most people aren’t as fixated on the suit as what’s under it.”

  “Really?” Corey flipped up her goggles to reveal a little red imprint mark across the bridge of her nose, suggesting she’d exerted herself quite a bit recently. The tell warmed Elise’s stomach. Corey hadn’t happened by on an off day. The fact that she’d boarded all the way across and up the mountain after a full day of hard work somehow made the visit even more special.

  Elise gave hersel
f over to the playfulness in Corey’s eyes. “Of all the questions people ask, ‘what do you wear under your suit?’ comes up more than all the others.”

  “Ahem,” Corey cleared her throat dramatically and grabbed Elise’s ski pole. She held the handle like a microphone and talked into it using her best sportscaster voice. “And Ms. Brandeis, will you give us an honest answer to that very important question?”

  She held the ski pole handle out to Elise.

  She pursed her lips tightly together for a moment, then said, “Well, there is a particular aerodynamics theory called ‘skin-to-win.’”

  Corey’s hazel eyes widened and flicked quickly to Elise’s chest, then up again. “And are you saying you’re a disciple of this seemingly glorious theory?”

  Elise smiled broadly. “A champion never divulges her secrets. Especially to the media.”

  “Right, right, wouldn’t want to lose your edge over other skiers, but,” Corey nodded seriously, then put her hand over the top of her “microphone,” “off the record, will you tell me what’s under the suit?”

  Elise thought about letting her off the hook and doing a slow, deliberate unzip from the neck down to reveal a long-sleeve compression shirt and a pair of boring gray yoga pants, but she liked being the one to tease for once. Somehow it leveled the playing field between them more than any joint gym session had.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You beat me back to the base lodge, and I’ll show you.”

  “Show me?” Corey’s grin widened.

  “Show you,” she confirmed.

  “No racing,” Paolo said, coming up behind them. “She’s not ready to race yet.”

  “She seemed pretty ready to me a minute ago when she came barreling down on me like her ass had caught fire.”

  “Thank you,” Elise said. “I think.”

  “Asses on fire or not, she’s not ready to race.”

  “Not even against a lowly snowboarder?” Corey asked. “No need to reach seventy miles per hour. I’ll ride fakie.”

  “No,” Elise cut in. “I do not need you to snowboard backwards. We’re already halfway down the mountain. It’s all blue trails from here, Paolo. We’ve skied steeper sections this week.”