“But you said I shouldn’t do it. You said after my practice the other day that I wasn’t ready.”
“Well, I changed my mind. You’re going to put it in your free skate for the ladies’ singles, and you’re going to nail it with the entire world watching. We have almost a week before the event starts and before you skate a fantastic comeback.”
I swallow. “Okay. Okay.” My voice is hoarse from the crying and the sobbing.
“We’re going to have to work hard these next few days. The new plan is that we’re going offsite to practice, and we’re going to stay offsite until it’s time for you to skate your short program. I don’t want you in the middle of any more drama.”
My shoulders droop even farther. “But that means …” I trail off, trying to blink back the new tears that want to come.
“I know it’s not what you want, but it’s what I think is best.” I cover my face with my hands again. Coach peels my fingers away from my eyes. “Espi? What? What’s so important that you’re going to miss? Hunter? Because I think it might be a good idea if you didn’t see that boy —”
I’m shaking my head vigorously. “It’s not Hunter.” I know Coach is 100 percent right, but it’s still difficult to accept. “It’s everything. I’m going to miss all the stuff that happens at the Olympics when you’re an athlete but not competing. I’m not going to get to hang out at any of those cool pavilions they’ve set up for recreation, or see any other events. The hockey games, for instance. I have tickets, remember? I really wanted to go. And I want to see Tawny skate, and the ice dancers go before the ladies’ finals, which means I’ll miss her too.”
“I see,” Coach says slowly.
“Tawny’s been so good to me. I want to be there to support her. And I don’t want to miss Danny’s big Olympic moment.”
A little smile appears on Coach’s face. A tiny seed of hope plants itself in me.
“All right,” she says. “Maybe we can make an exception for Tawny and for the first hockey game.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Coach Chen puts her arm around me and gives me a squeeze. “But you can hang out at the pavilions after you win, and trust me, there will be plenty of celebrating at the Closing Ceremonies and all the parties afterward. Now, though, you’re going into seclusion. Do you think you can manage this?”
I nod. My throat is too tight to speak.
“Good. Now let’s go deal with the press.”
When we emerge into the storm of camera flashes and the thunder of the reporters’ questions, tears are running down my cheeks, and they capture it all on tape. I’m still crying because of what happened on the ice, but not only because of that. Now the tears are from Coach Chen’s kindness, her willingness to forgive and to not lose faith in me, even when I worry that all is lost.
For the Americans in the Team Event, it certainly is.
Needless to say: We do not medal.
And when the entire team has its press conference with American reporters about what just happened, at first, it’s excruciating. I avoid looking at everyone else, even Tawny, but especially Hunter. I don’t have to worry about seeing Meredith, though, and looking her in the face after blowing my moment as the alternate who gets called upon and fails, because she is nowhere to be found. Stacie doesn’t show up either.
“What do you think happened?” asks a TV reporter. “The United States was a contender for Team Event gold, and now you are walking away without a single medal.” The reporter looks directly at me. “Do you blame Stacie Grant?”
My heart is pounding. Despite the fact that I do blame Stacie — at least partially — for how we all imploded today, it’s not entirely her fault. I pull one of the microphones toward me. “It’s no one person’s fault,” I begin, trying to be generous to Stacie as I can manage. “We all had a difficult day today, me especially. It’s my first time at the Olympics, and I admit I had a really hard time getting my head around going in as a sub. I can’t say that I did my best. This was probably one of my worst performances in an international competition.” I pause a moment and turn to look at my teammates, who are sitting on either side of me at the press table. “And I want to say I’m sorry for that, to everyone who was depending on me to come through.”
After I finish, no one speaks. Not at first.
Then Tawny grabs the mike. “Esperanza is right that it’s no one person’s responsibility — but there isn’t any need for apologies. The Team Event was an incredible opportunity. We didn’t finish in one of the top three spots — this is true, but it is also true that the Olympics are far from over. What’s most important for everyone to remember right now is that, while the US figure skaters didn’t medal today, there are United States skiers who did, and the bobsled team, and the women’s speed skaters. We didn’t shine for this event, but there are plenty of athletes who did shine. I am going to let those medalists inspire me as we move forward from here.”
Wow.
Tawny is amazing.
She should be America’s Darling and America’s Hope for Gold, all rolled into one.
I reach over and squeeze Tawny’s shoulder. She looks at me and I mouth, You are awesome.
She smiles. You too, she mouths back.
I shake my head no. Because I’m not.
Not tonight, at least.
Then a reporter asks, “Esperanza, do you still feel like you’ve let America down?”
“Yes,” I say. “I know I have. And regardless of Tawny’s generosity, I know I’ve let my team down too.” Before anyone can ask me another question, I try to muster the positive attitudes of both Coach and Tawny, and add with a smile, “But I’m still hopeful. The Olympics aren’t over yet.”
Meredith isn’t in the room that night, so I take advantage of the privacy to curl up in bed and call my mother. I don’t need to put on a brave face for her.
“Mamá, I’m so sad and so tired and so, so overwhelmed,” I say when she picks up.
“Oh, Espi.”
“I need you. Really, really.”
“I know, mija. I know,” she says. “I’m doing my best. We’re making progress with my visa, you know.”
I start to cry. “I want you to hug me right now and make it all better.”
“Oh, Esperanza, I wish I could. I love you so much.”
“I can’t do this without you,” I tell her.
“Yes you can, mi cielo. You are stronger than you know.”
I hiccup into the phone. “I don’t want to be, though.”
“But you are. It’s early. There’s a long way to go before the Olympics are over.”
“That’s what Coach Chen said.”
I can hear my mother breathing. She’s trying not to cry. “Your coach is a smart lady. You listen to her and you lean on her too.”
“I know. But I want my mamá here.”
My mother’s sigh is long and sad. “She wishes she was there. So does everyone else from the restaurant. They all say hi. Betty and Luca send hugs and kisses.”
After a while, when I’ve gotten my breath a little and the tears have slowed, I bring up one last thing. “I think the Wang is jinxed.”
This makes my mother laugh. “It’s beautiful, mi amor. Of course it’s not jinxed.”
“I’m serious. I should have brought one of Coach’s dresses, but like an idiot, I didn’t.”
There is a long silence. “If it’s that important to you, I could mail you one,” she says finally.
“It won’t make it in time. And if you sent it express, it would cost more than if you brought it yourself on an airplane.”
There is another silence. Even longer this time. “You’re probably right, mija.”
I sigh. “I should go.”
“I love you, Esperanza.”
“Me too, Mamá. Good night.”
She hangs up on the other end, and I pull the covers tight around me, all the way up to my chin. I try to focus on the positive attitudes shown by Coach and my mother and the o
ne I did my best to give to the press tonight, despite all that has happened so far.
But it’s not easy.
When I wake up the next morning, Meredith is sitting up in bed, reading. I have no idea when she got in last night.
“Hi, Meredith,” I say.
Meredith responds with … total silence.
I’m sure she thinks she could have done better as alternate for the Team Event.
She’s probably right.
Just about anybody could have done better than I did. And Stacie too, for that matter.
“I know you’re not talking to me,” I say. “And you have a right to be mad that you weren’t included in the Team Event. If you had skated instead of me, maybe the US would have won a medal because I wouldn’t have messed everything up. For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry it was me and not you. It deserved to be you.”
I hear an intake of breath. For a second I think she might say something back. It seems like maybe I’ve gotten to her.
But then all she does is roll away onto her side and not say a word.
After Coach picks me up to take me offsite for training, I watch from the car windows as the Olympic Village recedes into the background, taking all the chaos and excitement with it. As we drive, I am still mourning how the rigorous schedule at the Games has so far prevented me from even entering one of the big pavilions set up for the competitors to enjoy in our free time, like USA House for all the United States athletes, and the gigantic one put on by the big Olympic business sponsors.
Tawny says it’s amazing. You can go there to do your laundry or have people do it for you. They will dry-clean your skating costume. Or your ski pants. Or your speed skater outfit. Whatever you have to wear for Olympic competition. There are flat screen TVs everywhere, apparently watched by a lot of husbands of women athletes, who go there to veg out. There are video games and a huge gourmet dining hall. There is even a spa! You can have your hair and makeup done and get manicures and pedicures so you look your Olympic best.
As the car starts to wind its way through the mountains, everything to do with the Winter Games disappears from view, taking my hopes of a makeover and some free gourmet smoothies with it. But after the two-hour route to the rink where Coach has reserved us practice time, I realize that she is right. Getting away from the madness and the drama is not a bad idea.
I already feel different. Less wound up.
The ice is fresh, and as I warm up, I forget the cold and everything else that has happened so far. The old Esperanza Flores starts to return — the one who doesn’t get shaken by her opponents and who isn’t worried about boys and who is simply this girl who loves figure skating more than anything else in her life.
I work on some spins and then move on to my jumps.
“Nice, Espi! Nice!” Coach calls out as I nail triple axel after triple axel.
I skate through all the elements of my short program and my free skate flawlessly. Then I do them again. And again. And again. The only thing I don’t go for is the quad sal. I decide that it’s important to get my confidence back before I attempt another one.
It won’t be long now, though.
“I feel so drama-free,” I say to Coach after skating over to edge of the rink, where she is beaming at me too.
“You look it too.” She studies my face. “Do you really want to go all the way back to Olympic Village for a hockey game?”
I nod.
“All right. Into the car we go.”
The hockey arena is packed to bursting by the time we arrive. I don’t talk to Danny before or afterward, but I watch him play and he’s amazing. He even scores.
Coach Chen and I sit with Mr. Morrison, who either doesn’t know his son is avoiding me or doesn’t care. He chats with us happily about the rules of the game and why some violence is okay while other violence will get you sent to the penalty box.
“Sure, I’d love come to another practice,” Mr. Morrison tells Coach Chen after she invites him. “I’d be honored! Maybe Danny will come too, if he can get away!”
My cheeks burn. “Um, I’m not sure he’d want to.” I think back to the Opening Ceremonies, and how I haven’t heard anything from him in a long time. “It’s possible he’s not talking to me.”
Mr. Morrison’s eyebrows go up. His eyes are so open and vulnerable. “Oh, I doubt that. And why wouldn’t he want to go to a practice? You’re amazing to watch!”
“He is too,” I say quietly, not thinking.
“Oh, I’ll definitely tell him you said that! I bet he’ll be happy to hear it.”
Surely, my skin is on fire. “You don’t need to. Really you don’t.”
“But I will!”
Coach Chen is trying not to laugh. I glare at her and mouth, Not funny, which only makes her laugh harder.
The United States wins 3–1, and I hurry Coach Chen away so we don’t have to see Danny, even though Mr. Morrison wants us to wait with him outside the locker room.
It’s back to seclusion for me. Coach has rented us rooms in a hotel and she won’t let me communicate with the outside world, even with Libby or Joya. She’s afraid they might ply me with press rumors again, which always seems to throw me off. The only exception to the rule is my mother. I get to talk to her.
“I’m rooting for you, mija!” she keeps telling me.
I hear her. I do. But I can’t get it out of my mind that she’s rooting for me way far away in Rhode Island when what I really want is for her to be rooting for me right here.
“Thanks, Mamá,” I say back. “I love you. Things are getting better. Little by little, but they are.”
I tell her this because it’s true.
Over the next few days at practice, I do my usual dance training and conditioning. I get my mental state in order. And I nail my quad sal time after time.
“Woo-hoo,” Coach actually cheers at one point. Something I’ve never heard her do before.
She sounds giddy.
Mr. Morrison comes out to one of our practices, but without Danny. “He has a game tonight,” he explains apologetically. “That’s the downside of winning everything. You never get time off.”
“That’s good that they’re winning,” I say.
During a break, Mr. Morrison says something that catches me off guard. “Danny thinks you’re pretty special.”
My eyes go wide. “He does?”
Mr. Morrison nods, then he takes a bite of his sandwich. “I did some digging and I think he might be jealous of whatever is going on with you and that Hunter Wills fellow.”
“There’s nothing going on, though,” I confess.
“Are you sure? The press —”
“— loves to invent romances where there aren’t any.”
He swallows another bite. “But you and Danny obviously have something romantic between you two, so they were right about that the first time around.”
Do we? Do we “obviously”?
“Well, they aren’t right about Hunter and me.”
“Interesting. Good. You should tell Danny that.”
“Maybe I will if he gives me a chance.” Would I, though? Or would I just chicken out?
“He will. He’s just getting up the nerve, I suppose. My son can be shy.”
I nod. “Thanks, Mr. Morrison.”
“Anytime, Esperanza,” he says with a smile. “America’s Hope for Gold!”
After a few more minutes, Mr. Morrison leaves, and Coach Chen does the two-finger point from her eyes to mine and back and forth again. “Espi, you need to focus. You are doing amazing. You are nailing your quad sal like you’ve been doing it since you were in baby-sized figure skates. If you keep this up, you are going to take home the gold.”
My heart flutters in a way that has nothing to do with boys or drama. It’s purely about the possibility of being at the top of that podium, watching as they lower the American flag above my head. “You really think it’s possible?”
“I do,” she says. “You just need to not freak
out when we’re back on official Olympic ice.”
“Right.”
“Seriously, Espi.”
“I wish I hadn’t been so stupid and only brought the Wang.”
She rolls her eyes. “This is not about the Wang.”
But it is. At least a little.
“Wang or no Wang, you can take the gold, Espi,” Coach goes on. “Have a little faith.”
“Sure. Of course,” I say. “No big deal.”
The trick, obviously, will be to do everything I’ve been doing out here in seclusion in front of an Olympic-sized crowd at the center of the drama that seems to follow me and everyone else who skates everywhere.
Easy as cake.
Right.
“Hurry up, hurry up!”
I am bouncing one leg and then the other, fidgety and anxious. The security to get back into the Olympic Village causes a three-hour traffic jam.
“Esperanza, we’re not in a tank,” Coach Chen says. Her black hair is sleek down her back because she keeps taking it down from the bun she usually wears and then putting it up again while we wait. We’re in a pre-bun phase at the moment. “We can’t roll over the cars in front of us, so we need to try and be patient.”
“But if we’re not back soon, I’m going to miss seeing Tawny skate!”
Coach looks at the clock on the dashboard. “We have time.”
My knee is bobbing like the needle on a sewing machine. “Do we?”
She doesn’t answer, so I shut up. While we continue to wait I call my mother again and again, but she’s not picking up. “Where is Mamá when I need her?”
“She’s probably at work,” Coach says.
“But she always answers! I’m her daughter. I’m at the Olympics!”
Coach smiles as we pull forward a whole ten yards and stop again. “Maybe she’s doing something where she can’t pick up.”
Panic runs through me. “What if something bad happened to her?”
Coach reaches over and stops my knee from its frenzy. “Esperanza, your mother is fine.”
“But how do you know?”
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