The Search For Shattered Pieces *Complete*

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Desires and Double Toe Loops

Lyra:

   "I think you should skate your short program to Avril Lavigne's 'Head Above Water." Coach Rancic says.

   I'm dumbfounded to change a program with so little time left.

   "You can do it, Lyra.  I've seen how to skate to that music and it's true artistry.  We'll bring Christoph in to fine tune the foot work and work on the foot sequencing but otherwise you're ready."

   "There's so little time..."

   "Lyra, you can do this.  You were meant to do this."

   'Head Above Water,' I loved it.  It spoke to me.  And it was the first time I'd landed the quad to that music.  I steel my back.  "Okay, I'll do it."

   "Wonderful.  And you're still doing Stravinsky's the Firebird for the long?"

   "Yes, I'm comfortable with the routine and now with adding in some sequencing and the quads I KNOW I can do it."

   "I know you can do it too, Lyra.  I meant it when I said you were meant to be on the ice.  I've never had a student so dedicated, and so in tune with the ice before.  You will be the one to beat at Nationals I know it."

   "Whoa now let's not get ahead of ourselves," I smile.  "Emily Fadore and Brittany Zolchick are good, really good."

   "Yes, but none of them have a quad in their routine, not that I know of."

   My heart races.  Yes. It all falls upon the quad.  Well time to get to work.

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Lyra:

I'd worked my ass off and to say I ached all over was an understatement.  My aches had aches.

I let myself into the giant kitchen and it smells wonderful, more of Andrea's glorious cooking.  Coach Rancic hadn't made one comment about my weight thus far, which frankly baffled me.  Maksim said I needed to lose fifteen pounds. No. No. Don't go there, we're not thinking about Maksim.  He was toxic.  Remember Lyra, he wasn't who he claimed to be.  You're free once more and you're now going to achieve your dream for yourself and your mother and NO ONE else.  No one will tell them you belong to them, that your accomplishments belong to them, that they own you.  You are your own person.  You wins and your losses are your own. 

You are free.

   "What smells so good," I ask.

   Trent pulls out a dish and smiles.  "Chicken divan and some wild rice."

   Chicken divan? What was chicken divan? Well whatever it was it smelled good.  My stomach takes that moment to rumble loudly and Trent laughs. 

   "Go clean up, quickly, and come down to dinner.  Mom is at the club, Stefan is, who the hell knows where Stefan is and it'll be you, me, and the rest of the group."

   "As in all of you."

   "Xav and Zach promised to be home for dinner.  So those motherfuckers better be coming through that door soon."

   I laugh.  "Okay, give me a sec to quickly change and I'll be down in a moment."  As I move past him he swats my ass.  "Hey?"

   He holds up his hands.  "What?"

   I roll my eyes and scurry out of the kitchen.

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