JADE (young justice/robin)

46. champions (year eight)

Gangneung
February 14, 11:09 GMT+9
ONE YEAR LATER

jade.

I breathed incredibly slow and shut my eyes. I needed the world to go quiet.

If I listened to the crowds nonstop bustling for too long, I could feel my heartbeat quicken. The thrum of their voices rang in my ears, so loud that it could swallow me whole.

The waiting was the worst of it. The world went quiet naturally on the ice, but here, in this crowded, little hallway with fifty other trainers and skaters, it was nearly impossible.

Miles still had four more days to calm his nerves. I needed to sort that matter out, about two days ago. I had to step onto the ice, alone, knowing that everyone either hated me or didn't know who I was. That they were all gearing for me to be incredible or to fail massively.

It was all the same to me. I'm used to having a target on my back. I understood that Miles and I were the no-names, who sprang out of nowhere, stealing all the titles that so many had spent their entire lives training for. It didn't help when they found out we'd only been skating together for a few years. It also didn't help when they found out the current world champion for singles and pairs only started training at eighteen.

I could tell the pressure was getting to Miles, though. He didn't like that so many people despised him, particularly the athletes. None of them tried to warm up to us because they couldn't see us as anything more than competition. The nobodies who stole all their fame. Not even the other US skaters on our team liked us because we'd stolen some of their friends spots.

It kept us from enjoying the experience in the same way all the other kids could.

What bothered me more than the loneliness was having to compete last for every event. I'd have to listen to dozens of other routines, followed by roars of cheers, followed by louder screams for the scores.

In a way, it was like being high. The surge of emotions that you can't control. The surreal sensation.

"You know they won't appreciate the melancholy of it all."

I opened my eyes, finding that Cissie had taken the seat next to me. She didn't look nervous or upset, but that didn't stop her from bringing up the flaws she saw in the routine—only minutes before I had to go out there.

"I don't have much else to give besides melancholy."

"I know," she sighed. "But it was approved during the trial run, and made you a world champion... I suppose your gloom will have to do."

The thrum of the crowd cheering for the end of another routine rumbled through the floor—the second place girl from Russia.

I took another deep breath. "You think they won't like it?"

"Like it? I'm worried they won't understand it."

Do you even understand it?

"They can take it to mean whatever they want."

"That you're drug-sad and like Bowie?"

I scanned the hall nervously, desperate to make sure nobody else heard that. "I-I'm not—"

"I've known since Bruce hired me to train you," she said plainly. "Lab tests and everything. You know, it's surprisingly easy to find out someone's overdosed on cocaine."

Shame flooded my face. "That was a long time ago."

"I know that too. You think I'd train a recent addict? My fees aren't large enough for that."