Promises || Road To Nationals

|1| The End of The Begining

Jordan's POV:

   I love the way my blades slice through the fresh ice going 30 mph, or I guess it's 48.2803 km/h now. The ice is smooth like warm butter that was left out on a summer day. If I could, I'd never stop. I'd skate forever. The way it feels to cut into a turn faster than my opponent, I could never get bored. The pride I feel when I hear the oos and awes of the children behind the hockey glass. It never gets old.

   The rink is my home. And I knew from the first day I set foot on that poorly coated wooden floor with those old Inline roller skates that it always would be.

.

.

.

   'Where did I go wrong?' I ask myself, letting out a deep breath as I hold my head in my hands. I can hear the commentator's voice echo through the building as the senior woman's division race their quarter-finals.

   "Didn't make it past the heats again, huh?" Warren, one of my teammates, asks, taking a seat on the bench next to me after closing the door to the locker room.

   The muscles in my body tense up, "No," I mumble. This has been the second event where I couldn't make it past the first round. I trained so hard this past year to the point where I could barely stay awake in class, and this is all I get.

   Warren kicks off his skates, making an "Ahhhh" sound due to the instant relief of getting them off. He shouldn't be in that much pain. The piece of shit gets to wear custom Simons while I'm stuck with Bont Zs. "Don't feel too bad. You've still got the mixed relay."

   I groan, sitting up with my back against the cold brick wall. "Ugh, Ivory should do it. I'll only slow everyone down," I say, looking down at my middle-of-the-line inline roller speed skates: All new wheels and everything. My dad got them for me because he was sure I'd crush it today. It must've cost him an arm and a leg. I can't face him after this.

   The older boy scoffs, taking off the top of his skinsuit. Throwing his Naruto t-shirt on, he says, "Please, Ivory, the chick who's fallen four times today alone? At least you can stay on your damn feet. It's too late to make last-minute changes anyway, so we'll deal with you."

   "Geez, thanks, asshole. I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to talk to you about this." Every time I look for comfort in someone else, I end up feeling worse than I did before. That's especially true for Warren. I can't remember a single time where he was considerate of someone else's feelings.

   "Man, chill. You're overreacting. So what if you suck. Shoulda practiced harder."

   I'd be lying if I said that didn't hurt. First, everyone comforts Ivory and ignores me. Then Dave stops talking to me because I've come in last every race I've been a part of for the past three days. And now Warrens being an inconsiderate jackass. Or am I really just being over-sensitive?

   I can feel Warren's gaze on me, then a long sigh, "Look, we'll make it work, kay? All you gotta do is maintain position. Me, Erika, and Noah can handle the rest," he says before leaving me alone in the locker rooms once again.

   'Shit, don't cry,' I tell myself. I can't recall the last time I cried in public: Maybe the day before my grandma took the stripper pole straight to hell. That was the day I vowed to myself that I'd never cry in front of another soul ever again. That wasn't even a year ago. Actually, I don't think I've cried in front of others since the first or second grade.

   I really don't know what I was expecting. This is nationals. Anyone else would be glad they made it this far. But the only reason I made it past regionals was because other skaters in my age bracket got disqualified, so I took third. I have no business being here.