Heart of a Champion

by Kelsey MacBride

  She and Scott practiced their routine every day during the next week, and both agreed on Friday—the day before the event—that they were indeed as perfect as they were ever going to get.

  That night, Brenda reinstated her pre-competition ritual. She had a cup of chicken broth for supper. Took a long hot bath. Went to bed early. But, as the stars shifted overhead, marking the rotation of the planet and the passing of time, Brenda found she couldn’t sleep. She looked around her room in the darkness. All her posters and figurines took on a different appearance at night. The statues looked even more elegant, with their elongated stretches and perfect forms. She thought of turning her light on to read or flip through a magazine or something to get her mind off the competition tomorrow, but she sort of enjoyed the dark. Maybe she should snap on her radio and listen to some classical music or one of those late-night talk shows with the people calling in who’d been abducted by aliens or were dating Bigfoot. She rolled over onto her side.

  Was she hungry? Maybe a light snack would do the trick. Did she have to go to the bathroom? No, nothing like that. She returned to lying on her back. She wondered what Scott was doing. She found herself wondering that a lot. When they weren’t skating together, she often missed having him around. She hated to admit it, but it seemed okay and safe to do while she was lying alone in the dark. No one to see her cheeks blush or hear her stammer over her words as she sometimes did when someone asked her about Scott.

  As if on cue, her phone rang.

  “Hello?” she said quietly into the receiver, looking at the clock that read 11:29 p.m.

  “Are you nervous?” It was Scott’s voice.

  “Yeah. Are you?”

  “Yeah. A little bit.”

  Brenda bit her lip and nodded as if he might somehow be able to see her.

  “Well, just in case I forget tomorrow in all the excitement, I wanted to tell you how proud I am of all the work you put into this. You look beautiful on the ice. You’ll look beautiful tomorrow.”

  It was killing her. She wanted to tell Scott she still loved him. But now wasn’t the time. That was the last thing she needed distracting her. Instead, she swallowed the words with difficulty as if they were a mouthful of food too big to slide easily down her throat, and coughed just a little. “Thanks, Scott. I’m proud of you, too. I appreciate you putting up with me, and I don’t think I could have asked for a better partner.”

  She rolled her eyes in the darkness of her room. Could she sound any cornier? She didn’t think so, but maybe Scott didn’t notice.

  “Well, it’s pretty late. We better at least try to get some sleep before tomorrow,” Scott said reluctantly.

  “Scott?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m scared I’ll get hurt again.” Brenda couldn’t stop the words from coming out. They seemed to have a life of their own, escaping her lips in the darkness where no one else could hear her except the one man she’d trusted for so long.

  “You won’t, Brenda. As long as I’m there, you’ll never get hurt again.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She lay in the dark for a few more minutes, and neither of them spoke. She listened to Scott breathing.

  “Then I’ll see you bright and early,” Brenda said.

  “Goodnight, Brenda.”

  “Goodnight, Scott.”

  Arriving at Patton Springs Ice Skating Rink was like entering a circus. The place had been decorated for the holidays, and an elderly gentleman passing as Santa Claus had been installed by the front door as a greeter. Once inside, a person didn’t know where to look first. There were dozens of tables lined up, each dedicated to a specific age group or gender or style of skating. There were dozens of entrepreneurs selling T-shirts, posters, key chains, glow sticks, hats, and dozens of other trinkets related to this specific skating event.

  Then there were the families of the skaters milling around. It was easy to tell those who’d attended the competition before from the newbies who walked along with a map in their hands, stopping every couple of feet to check their location or ask one of the event coordinators where they were and where they needed to go. Local newspaper reporters also took their seats early, at the base of the stands closest to the skaters’ corral. They talked among themselves while waiting for the performances to begin. Then they’d leave, skirt around the auditorium to the hall leading to the locker room, and wait for the skaters—their purpose being to either praise or humiliate them, depending on their performance and reputation.

  Brenda hated to admit it and never said a word to anyone, but she was terrified of the reporters. No matter how well she did, they’d bring up her injury. She knew they’d say it was just a fluke, just luck if she managed to make the cut. And if she didn’t, they’d roll around in her sadness like pigs in slop and say her career had ended the day she got hurt almost two years ago. She never understood how people could make their living that way, looking for the bad in things when there were so many miracles happening every day. Heck, there was a lady in her town who just turned 101 years old and still managed to walk the block to her church every week for bunko. All she got was a two-sentence mention in the paper. But if some celebrity got drunk and fell off a merry-go-round, that was front-page news.

  Today, the reporters were there and other coaches were there and some local politicians were there. With all this going on, it was easy to miss the fact that there were no skaters around. Not yet. They remained in the locker rooms until it was time for their specific groups to start warming up.

  Brenda had a locker next to one of the full-length mirrors. She looked at herself and smiled at the costume her mother had made. It was a deep, dusty rose that faded into a seashell pink. She looked again at her matching nails. Not that anyone would see them, but they made her feel a little more complete. For her comeback, her mother had sprung for extra sparkles and loaded up the hem and right side across her torso and down her arm with black sequins and crystal beads.

  Mrs. Wagner refused to put Scott in a pink outfit. Instead, she added black sequins and crystal beads to the left side of his all-black costume.

  Brenda closely inspected her hair to make sure no strands would slip into her eyes or cause any kind of distraction. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, as usual, and little sparkles winked from the clips she’d added as extra security.

  The singles in Brenda’s age range were called first. She thought about sneaking up to get a look at them but changed her mind. Being a little superstitious, she didn’t want to do anything that might cause her to be distracted as she prepared to go on the ice. Instead, she sat down and closed her eyes, blocking out all the movement, all the commotion, all the excitement, taking deep breaths and folding her hands in her lap like a prayer warrior.

  “Lord, thank you for this. I’ve been very concerned about myself these past few months. Help me to remember that it isn’t about me. It’s about doing my best with you in mind. My Father, who has given me this talent that I might praise Him with it.”

  She sat there for a few more minutes, just listening to the music, the rush of the crowd as each skater finished their routine, but no matter how hard she tried, the butterflies wouldn’t calm down inside her chest as their invisible wings fluttered and flapped in wild excitement. It was almost time.

  Pamela came to the locker room and found Brenda sitting next to the mirror, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look like the Brenda she’d coached for so many years. Something was different. Normally, Brenda would be rolling her neck, shaking her arms, pacing back and forth, and going through the routine over and over, her lips moving as if she were praying. But this time she was just sitting there.

  “Brenda? Are you all right?” Pamela asked, the worry showing in her eyes.

  Smiling widely and getting to her feet, Brenda nodded enthusiastically.

  “Whew! You had me worried there for a second,” Pamela said and exhaled. “Now, I’m not going to give you the norma
l pointers. You know the routine. I want you to trust Scott, pay attention to his movements and ... well, have a good time.” Pamela tilted her head to the right and smiled. “I’m not just proud of you, Brenda, I’m amazed by you. What you’ve done over the past several months I don’t think could have been done by anyone else. You’re a champion. You don’t need a medal to tell you that.”

  Brenda reached out and wrapped her arms tightly around Pamela’s neck.

  “Thank you. But you had a lot to do with it as well. I can’t take all the credit.”

  Pamela pulled back, wiping her eyes, and shook her body as if she’d just felt a cold breeze. “Okay, okay. Enough of this mushy stuff. Your parents managed to get pretty good seats right up front near the corral. You can’t miss them.”

  “Oh, great!” Brenda said, knowing it was now or never. She followed Pamela out of the ladies’ locker room.

  The sound of the music from the skating pairs currently on the ice became louder and louder. The oohs, aahs, and applause from the audience were also growing. Brenda wondered what the skaters could have been doing, but then remembered it wasn’t really important. What was important was that she stay focused and remember to follow Scott, like Pamela had said.

  As she stepped out into view, several cameras flashed around her, and she could hear people calling her name. It surprised her that people even knew who she was. Over the noise, she heard one little voice. “Brenda Wagner! Brenda Wagner!” Brenda looked over her shoulder to see a little girl with pigtails waving a pink poster with “BRENDA” written in green glitter with little hearts and American flags around it. Shocked and moved beyond words, Brenda waved to the little girl, who was excited and happily holding her sign higher and higher.

  There wasn’t anything else Brenda could see except that little girl. There was no crowd, no reporters, not even her parents. She just saw that little girl—an angel from heaven sent to encourage her.

  Giving the thumbs-up sign to her, she watched as the pudgy-cheeked child tugged at her mother’s coat and pointed in Brenda’s direction. Brenda then caught sight of her own family sitting not far from the girl. They’d also brought a sign: “We Love You Brenda!”

  It was all humbling and, quite honestly, Brenda felt as if there was a shift in her attitude toward the whole competition. Sure, she wanted to win. More than anything she wanted to snag a medal and a place in the next round. But something had changed, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  “Are you ready?” she heard Scott’s familiar voice, loud and clear over the commotion of the audience.

  Turning to look up at him, she thought he looked confident and strong. What had she been so worried about? He made a mistake once, maybe the biggest mistake of his life. She knew he wouldn’t do it again.

  “I am.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Excited,” Brenda said, nodding and looking at all the people in the stands, noticing a number of people in Santa hats and many in red or green clothing.

  Just then, Scott took Brenda’s hands in his, lowered his head, and closed his eyes. She could see his lips moving as he said a silent prayer. She had no idea what secret he was whispering to God, but it was serious and heartfelt. He opened his eyes, looked at Brenda, and said, “Amen.”

  “All right,” Pamela interrupted, her hair slightly mussed with a few strands falling from her usually neat ponytail. “You guys are next. Get stretched out and then ... let’s go to work.”

  The skaters nodded and began to loosen up their muscles with simple stretches. As the pair of skaters before them began their routine, Brenda paid no attention to them, which she normally would have. They were wearing bright red costumes that seemed to dance all on their own beneath the spotlights. Instead, Brenda kept her head down and took inventory of her whole body.

  Starting at her toes, she worked her way up, rotating her ankles, bending her knees, stretching her thighs, all the way up her torso until she got to her head. And from there she looked left and right, noticing where her blind spot started. She waited intently for some twinge of pain, dizziness, or blurry vision, but there was none of that. She felt fine. She felt wonderful.

  Finally, the red team wrapped up their performance to the cheers and applause of the audience. Apparently they experienced a few missed steps, their timing was slightly off, and it cost them a couple of points. They were awarded a score of 9.4.

  Brenda slipped her hand into Scott’s, and they made their way to the center of the ice.

  Chapter 9

  For some reason, the ice skating rink didn’t seem so large now. Brenda stood in the middle of it all in a daze, still holding Scott’s hand. Her body felt hot, and her blood was raced through her veins, pulling what felt like electricity along with it. She felt sweat cooling on her forehead, and she was smiling as she tried to slow her breathing. Their performance was over.

  Brenda couldn’t believe it. It was like she was in a dream and just woke up wondering what had happened. The performance wasn’t perfect. She had trouble seeing Scott at two points where she had eased a little too far into his skate lane. A tiny misstep caused her to stumble over herself just slightly but she managed to maintain the rhythm and hoped the judges didn’t notice.

  The crowd was going crazy. They’d been anticipating her return almost as much as she had. Looking toward the skaters’ corral, Brenda noticed the little girl who’d called to her before they’d started their routine and saw her jumping up and down, her long pigtails flopping up and down with her. Waving to her, Brenda realized she didn’t even care about the score.

  Scott took a step to the side and let the crowd applaud Brenda alone. She took a bow and, just as she thought the noise couldn’t have gotten any louder, the auditorium erupted. People were on their feet, clapping wildly for her. They wanted her to succeed. How many of them had been in the audience that horrible day when Brenda had finished her routine flat on her back in the middle of the ice, her poor father stumbling out to help her?

  This was a better ending. She waved and started skating back to the corral with Scott. The judges’ score flashed across the scoreboard: 9.2. It was low but not completely terrible.

  “We aren’t out yet,” Scott said, wrapping a towel around Brenda’s shoulders. She picked up a bottle of water from her bag and handed it to him.

  “Brenda! Scott!” Pamela wove her way through the half dozen other skaters and coaches giving last-minute instructions or pep talks. “You guys did great!” she gushed! Brenda could tell by Pamela’s eyes that she was nervous. She and Scott weren’t guaranteed a spot in the Sectionals, but, like Scott said, they weren’t out yet.

  The hubbub continued around Brenda, but she felt strangely removed. It wasn’t a bad or scary feeling. It was a tranquil, calm feeling. Her eyes seemed more focused, like she could see more details. She could hear the sounds of the skaters blades across the ice and remembered how much she’d loved hearing that. Especially the silence when there was a jump high in the air and then the blades landed, cutting into the ice again. She could smell popcorn and feel the cold radiating from the ice against her cheeks and the tips of her fingers, which she usually didn’t even notice until she’d warmed up again.

  Wrapped up in the moment, Brenda didn’t hear anyone talking to her. She was too busy enjoying being back in the world of ice skating that she loved so much. Had she not been able to skate, if this were to be her last performance, she’d take Pamela up on her offer and speak to the younger skaters about safety and diet and anything else that might help. There would never be a day in her life that she’d be away from the rink, even if this were it regarding competitions. Even if she never competed again, she’d proved to those doctors, to Pamela, and to herself that only she could decide what was possible and what was impossible. Closing her eyes, she said the most heartfelt prayer of thanks to God she’d ever offered up. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  “Brenda, did you hear what I said? Where are you? Did you hear what I said about y
our next routine?” Pamela almost shouted, placing her hand on Brenda’s shoulder.

  “What? Next routine for what?”

  She hadn’t even realized that the score she and Scott made was enough to get them to the Sectionals competition. They were one step closer to actually making it to the Olympics. Smiling, Brenda nodded at Pamela.

  “The second routine we practiced has that step, step kick, turn, jump, step, jump,” said Pamela excitedly. “That’s going to be what launches you guys into that lunge, and you’re really going to have to go deep. We’ve got four days to work on it. But tonight,” she took Brenda’s chin in her hand, “you can celebrate. Just tonight, and not late.”

  Brenda watched Pamela give Scott a peck on the cheek, turn and walk over to some of the other coaches milling around.

  “Did I hit my head again?” Brenda asked. “Am I dreaming all this, Scott? Did we really do it? I feel like I’ve been in some kind of bubble of uncertainty with all the noise and commotion. Didn’t I just step onto the ice a second ago? Shouldn’t we still be doing our routine? How can it all be over, and I barely remember any of it?” She was grinning, her eyes wide in astonishment.

  “No, Brenda. You aren’t dreaming.” Scott stood in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and ran them gently down her arms. “We made it. We just squeaked by, you and me.”

  Finally, it registered on Brenda’s face. Tears filled her eyes, and she jumped into Scott’s arms, grabbing him with all her might. He held her tightly and laughed.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear. “Thank you for not quitting.”