Lainey - Going Rogue

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3 am already? I force myself up and into the shower so I can get to the rink. I want as much time on the ice as I can get. I step into the hot shower and know it will probably be the warmest I will be all day. I turn the heat up a notch higher.

I wonder what time it is in Los Angeles? My body clock is completely out of whack. My doctor gave me some herbal medicines to counter the jet lag but I’m scared to take them in case there’s an Olympic-banned substance in them. I don’t want there to be any reason for disqualification.

I’m actually more worried about my hip. I’ve been experiencing some major pain on my landings and in my sit spin on that leg. It started a few months ago and has been getting progressively worse. I don’t want to tell my coach how bad it is – or even my mom. It will be another reason for them to tell me to not do the triple axel. All I have to do is land it in my short program and I’m as good as gold.

The scoring system is all about accumulating points and the triple axel yields the most points for a triple jump. It will be my first jump in my short program so once I clear it, I’m home free – assuming the rest of my program is flawless.

I can work on healing my hip after we’re back home. I just hope it holds out through the competition. I’ve been icing it every day – taking as many ice baths as I can tolerate.

The wind is fierce this morning. The cold bites through my clothes as I exit the dormitories. I’m slipping out early before meeting my coach to see if they will let me on the ice. I want to practice my axel before my coach can see me. Mom was showering when I left. I hate being sneaky but I don’t know when I will be able to practice that jump.

The Village is still fairly quiet. Almost eerily so. It’s starting to snow. I wonder if I should just turn around and go back. Forget the triple axel.

“Hi.” I nearly jump out of my skin. I turn around and see it’s douchebag from the plane.

“Hi.” I keep walking. Really? Can’t this guy leave me alone? The Village is a huge place and I have to run into him?

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Where do you think?” I show him my bag with my skates.

“To practice? Really? This early? I thought you would need some rest. Aren’t you jet-lagging?”

“I could ask the same of you. Have you even been to sleep yet?”

“No, but I don’t respect my talent, remember?”

“So what’s the point?”

“What do you mean?”

I stop and look him in the eyes, which I notice are a really nice blue under the moonlight. “I mean, why are you here? I’m sure there were other skiers you beat to get here. Why not give that unlucky guy you squeezed out your spot, if you don’t care to be here?”

“It never occurred to me.”

“I’m sure it’s occurred to your teammates.” I see a faint twitch of acknowledgment. I start walking again. He follows.

“Are you planning on walking me the entire way?” I ask.

“It’s dark out. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’ll be fine. Look at all the security.” It’s true. The Olympic Village is on lockdown. There are all kinds of security guards everywhere.

“Why are you out here alone? Figure skaters are always with their coaches or mommies,” he points out.

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” I say.

“Ah, you’re going rogue.”

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