[Emily’s POV]

The ice at six AM is mine alone. No teammates, no pressure. Just me, the music, and this footwork sequence that’s been making me look like a drunk giraffe for three weeks.

I launch into the opening and something clicks. My edges are sharp, transitions clean. The twizzles flow. The brackets don’t murder me. I finish with actual momentum, and Coach Marquette’s whistle cuts through like divine intervention.

She stops the music and actually claps. Coach doesn’t clap. She’s basically dead inside. “That is the best you’ve looked all season. Do it again.”

I do it again. And again. By the fourth repetition, the sequence flows clean every time. My body’s finally figured out what my brain’s been screaming at it for weeks. When I get back to the locker room, I’m actually feeling better than I had in a long time.

Ava catches me changing. “Hey, I caught your practice. That footwork? Absolutely insane. When did you become superhuman?”

“About an hour ago.” I give her my biggest smile. “Been working on it for weeks and suddenly everything just clicked. I’m accepting this as divine intervention and also possibly a glitch in the matrix.”

“I could tell. Coach was practically vibrating.” Ava laughs, grabbing her bag. “So, how are things with Maddie? She’s seemed different lately. More like herself.”

“Good. Actually good. We had this rough patch after the competition but I think we’ve turned a corner.” I’m pulling my hoodie on, trying to sound confident.

“I’m glad. She’s been through a lot, you know? The injury, the comeback, those bullshit scores. It must be hard for her to process all that.” Ava’s voice is warm. “But I’m sure she’ll start to manage it better. She’s tough like that.”

I nod, smile. “Of course. The toughest,” I agree. But now, when Ava said out loud, I can’t help but think: what if she doesn’t? What if Maddie’s nature—the one that spirals inward, that builds walls instead of asking for help—means she never actually manages it? What if she’s just getting better at hiding when she’s drowning?

The thoughts are swarming in my head while I’m on my way back to the dorm. By the time I get there, I find Maddie sprawled on her bed with her laptop. She looks up, and her whole face lights up.

“Hey! How was practice? You look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin.” She’s smiling, eyes bright, and it’s the Maddie I fell in love with.

“Amazing.” I offer her the biggest smile, and my anxious thoughts die down a little. “I finally got the footwork sequence. Not just survived it—actually performed it. Clean edges, perfect timing, didn’t trip over my own feet once.”

“Oh my god, that’s incredible! The sequence from hell?” Her laptop is already open. “Show me. I want to see your form from Sectionals. Maybe we can compare what you were doing then versus now.”

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