35. #NerveEndings, June 2018

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Daya stepped on the ice with Pavel and the other skaters for the reserved practice hours. Her belly was full of ice too. Belousova selected the last possible eligible regional qualifier for them to get the score for entering the Canadian Challenge. Just like all other hopefuls from around Canada.

"Failure is not an option. You'll get the scores, and then you won't stop competing," Belousova had said.

"For once I wish it was not the one and only, the last chance," Daya murmured to Pavel, as they started on the back-cross. 

And she wished that Shanti could come. Yes, she was almost twenty-four, and she still wanted her big sis to watch her skate. But she was twenty-four, so she said, "Oh, Shanti, don't worry. I know Sameer is at a conference this weekend, and you have a good time with the kids. Don't torture them with sitting in a cold, smelly arena for hours."

"Every competition is your first and your last chance. Fortune is fickle." Pavel's happy grin almost made up for Shanti's absence. The guy was eager to compete, like a warhorse pawing the ground for battle. "Speaking of fortune, I want to repeat the star, that's been shaky last time. God helps those close off all avenues for failure."

Daya nodded, checking behind her back for the opening in the mill of other skaters for Pavel to do his rotations. It looked good, so she gave him a go. They sped up, Pavel's hand went to her hip, their hands clasped, she went up—

There was a wobble as her hand planted on his shoulder. First she thought she could compensate for it. She did not have time to be scared, but Pavel's eyes were fully flung in terror when her face plunged past his.

That's what cut into her memory. Not the wobble, the whites of Pavel's eyes.

His hands grabbed frantically to break her fall. No matter how good his reflexes, he couldn't slow her down enough. He skated out of the way, protecting her from his blades.

She almost braced, she almost took a breath in, her heart almost completed one beat.

No other sound penetrated her cocoon of fear. Time froze, like in the wrong fairy tale, not Cinderella, the Sleeping Beauty one.

Belousova pressed herself to the glass by the gate.

Pavel kept back choice words in two languages behind the bluish lips. His How bad? was the first thing that she had heard before the sound of the blades on the ice, the shouts of the coaches and the distant music returned. 

The light was no longer sheer white bleaching color from her surroundings. She spotted the emergency amber of the short is tomorrow, flashing in the green depths of Pavel's eyes. He did not give voice to his panicked thoughts.

She tried to sort out the pain. Good pain that she could shake off. Bad pain that meant withdrawal, the two scariest letters on the scoreboard, WD.

Her heart thudded one more time.

She extended her arms to Pavel, and he asked if she wanted to stand in a trembling voice.

"No, I prefer to take a nap on the ice," she snapped and vaulted to her feet... wobbly feet.

Under speculative glances from their rivals, Pavel huddled her, and they skated two slow laps, her body still reacting to the shock with shakes. Soaking with sweat, her jacket clung wetly to her back, warm only where Pavel touched her, chilly everywhere else. 

The pain numbed.

"I'll be okay. I just need to sit somewhere," she murmured into Pavel's warm chest. He nodded, maneuvering them to the gates.

Belousova held Daya's eyes. "Medical?"

She shook her head. "No, no. I just need a time out." She clutched a wad of tissues that Belousova handed her to her runny nose and wet cheeks. 

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