Page 6 of Back Outside Edge

So, I'm the only asshole. It's fine. I'm used to being the asshole.

The group as a whole is quiet as we stuff our faces, and for the first time, I have to give the hotel some credit. The food is amazing. The roll I bite into is so fresh it's still warm, and tastes like heaven. Which is enough to rescue the hotel from my ire single-handedly. I can handle an oxygen-less, ear-splitting breakfast room if it's got rolls like this.

It's a struggle not to eat too much, but I stop at an almost acceptable amount of full and sit back. A couple of my teammates are scrolling through their phones, and I glance over Jan's shoulder to see what he's looking at. A figure skater, in the middle of a glide. No surprise there. But when I look closer, I realize it's a video of Evan.

Interesting. Is he sizing up the new competition, having expected Alexandre? If anyone would, it's Jan. The man does his homework. Too much, if you ask me, because all it does is stress him out, but he's desperate for golds.

Nonetheless, I can't help continuing to watch. I'm sucked in immediately. Fuck, Evan is good. His lines are long, graceful. Even the tips of his fingers are expressive. In the video, his costume shirt is green, and it makes his tan skin glow. "When was this?" I murmur to Jan, sneaking a glance over at Evan.

Jan glances up, the hint of surprise giving way to a little nod of acknowledgement. “Canadian Nationals.”

“This year?”

“Yup.” We watch for another minute or two, and the program's over. Evan’s grin, when he stands up, waving to the audience, is the same gleaming brilliance he's been showing me. As far as I'm concerned, it was the perfect short.

“How did he not win gold? He’s so much better than Alexandre.” Not that I saw Alexandre's performance at Nationals, but I’ve seen it on the competition circuit, and it doesn't compare.

Jan shrugs then flips to the next video on the playlist. Evan Marquez Free Skate. Here we go. He turns the volume up and we both lean over the phone, entranced. When a lull in conversation across the table allows the music to drift to him, I see Evan look up out of the corner of my eye. “What’re you watching?”

“Your program.” Jan looks up at Evan and that blinding smile turns to him.

"Oh, thank God. For a second, I was afraid someone else was using the same music." A ripple of laughter breaks out around the table. Accidental music duplication is always awkward.

“Not as far as I know.” Jan shrugs and the two of us look back down at his phone.

Evan skates like a cloud. It’s the best I can come up with to describe it. Like his skates barely touch the ice. And when I’m so enraptured by his program I’ve lost all sense of time, he attempts a quad loop. The moment his feet lift off the ground, I wince. It's obvious what's coming. His angle’s off. Not a lot, but enough that—

"Ouch." Yep. There it is. He's on the ground.

Guess that's how he got silver.

When I look up again, his eyes are on me. “Canadian Nationals?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, loops aren't my strongest.”

“Loops aren't anyone's strongest.” I'm not just being reassuring. It's true. “You didn't have to put it in, did you? Could have done a Salchow.” He can do those. I watched him do it in the short about two minutes ago.

“I do. Later in the program.”

“In combination?” I'm certain he has already gone over all of this with his coach. His choreographer. They all know the numbers.

“Yeah,” he sighs. Then starts to pack up the debris of his breakfast. “Switched it out after Nationals. The loop’s just—you know, the white whale, I guess. I really wanted to pull it off.”

“Even if it cost you a spot at the World Championships? Maybe the Olympics?”

I seem to hit a sore spot. His face closes down, and he shrugs. "Yeah, well, like I said, I switched it out." And he strides away. Not giving me a chance to respond.

Well, fuck; I didn't mean to piss him off. Here I was trying to be friendly. Shows how bad I am at it.

Jan's watching him stride away too. “You know he only missed the Olympics by a hundredth of a point last time, right?”

"Oh shit, really?" I hadn't known. And now I feel worse.

"Yeah, his coach dumped him over it and everything."

“Fuck.” That's extreme. What kind of coach dumps their skater for not making it to the Olympics? Especially given Evan's quality of skating. The rest of us are doing our best to emulate him and his coach dumped him? It doesn't make any sense. “But why? He’s amazing.”