Ice Uprising

Chapter Eight

"Oh, Lotta. It's so nice to see you!" With a hint of awkwardness, I waved to an angry, wet Lotta from behind Viktor's back.

"You! Why did you frickin' run away? Did you think it was ​​​​​​a good idea to abadon me with your aunt's belongings and run off to Russia! Did ya' think it was a peachy idea to leave your friend worrying about in Hawaii?" Lotta, and angry look on her wet face, stomped into Viktor's house, her fists clenched.

"Erm, well. This thought came to mind...And I suppose all of my ideas get a little out of hand..." Fading off, I was desperate to find something to look at.

"Viktor, if you will please excuse us," Lotta grabbed my arm, dragging me close to her. "Explain to me exactly what you're doing here, then we're going home."

"What?!" Stepping away from her, I slapped her arm, shaking my head violently back and forth. "Lotta, I can't go with you!"

"Ha! Give me a solid rason as to why you can't come back home to Wiamalu and finishing sorting out your aunt's things." Lotta crossed her arms, frowning. Trying to speak had never been so hard.

"I-I...I, um," Pausing to swallow, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "I am going to compete in the senior women's diviaion and make it to the Grand Prix Final! I've already competed in three competitions! Yakov is my coach, and I live with Mila down the street. She's nice, and friendly, and...A lot of other cool stuff! You literally just remind me of the people I've lost!" When my head cleared, Lotta was standing there with a crestfallen look on her perfect tan face.

"Um, o-okay. I-I just...I just thought th-that I was going to be your coach. You said I could be..." What had I done? Shattering Lotta's heart definitely wasn't my top priority. Or any priority, to be exact.

"Lotta, I was offered training everyday, without anyone's work or family in the way. I needed something else. I know, it was a jerk move to run away, but I wanna stay here. I'm twenty-five. I should be able to make my own decisions." I approached Lotta, smiling softly. "You can move out here! Get all the luggage in one trip. Come out here and stay with me and Mila."

"It's alright...But don't forget, I'm going to see all your competitions," Lotta flashed me a fond grin, turning around and reaching for the door.

"Really?! I'll see you tomorrow then! You might as well go to Mila's! I'll give you my phone!" Practically jumping down the porch steps after her, I handed Lotta my phone, a map of Mila's house already up.

"Bye, girl. You stay out of troubke woman. Make sure he doesn't do anything bad either. Yakov and I don't want to have to come to this house after it's been burned crisp," Saluting us, Lotta drove off.

"So, like I was saying, how did Viktoria know all this?" I asked, staring at the muted TV. "I mean, I can't just guess the future. Like, 'you're going to break that coffee cup.'"

"Huh...I never thought that could happen to a person. No one in history has had future-seeing abilities. I suppose maybe an extremely smart person could've deduced it. After all, she was an intelligent ten-year-old." Viktor shrugged, discreetly putting down his coffee cup, like he actually beieved me. "You want any coffee?"

"Oh, sure. I guess you're right though, because she was extremely smart. She could've figured this all out by our interactions," With a shrug, I looked up at Viktor, who had grabbed a coffee cup.

​​​​​​​​​​​​BAM!

"It just flew out my hands, Tatiana," Viktor had a surprised look on his face, with a hint of terror.

"Wh-what? That is totally a concident, because I say that I'll break something and I usually do.

Maybe I made you nervous? Yeah, that's it! It slipped out of your hand because you were nervous!" Laughing awkwardly to keep the tension away, Viktor started to smile​​​​​​ optimistically.

"I better clean this up before Makkachin gets it," Viktor knelt down, picking up the shards of the polka-dotted mug. Copying him, we started to clean together, bumping into each other ever so often.

"What a beautiful mug. It looks vaguely familiar. How long have you had it?" Trying to fit two large pieces together, I stared at the mug with a raised eyebrow, moving my direction of sight to Viktor's face.

"Hmm?" The silverette man looked up at me, smiling gently, his eyes closed. "This was my mother's favorite."

"Oh...That's so cool. I don't know what my mother's favorite mug is, but whatever," I shrugged, staring absentmindedly at the linoleum kitchen floor.

"Tatiana, could you give me the shards in your hand?" Viktor waved a hand in front of my face, squatting low to where I was.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Here," Handing the shards, I pushed myself up off the floor, looking up at Viktor. "What're going to do with the mug?"

"Probably throw it away," Viktor opened up his trash can, but something in me just screamed 'STOP!' to Viktor. I slapped my hands right over the trash can, stopping him from throwing away the shards.

"Don't do it! You could, um, save it! Here, watch this! Give me the pieces!" Before Viktor had time to say anything, I grabbed the broken mug from his hand, running frantically down his hallway. "Do you have any super glue, Viktor?"

"The glue is in here, Tatiana!" Viktor called back, his voice hosting a very flat sound. Scrambling back the other direction, I placed all the shards on the table, searching through all his drawers to find the glue.

"Aha!" I triumphantly held up the glue for three seconds before gluing the piece together into what looked like a frame. After about ten minutes, I was done. "Do you have a picture of your mother?"
"Here, I have a picture of me and Makkachin, though," Viktor turned, walking across the living room to grab an unframed picture of the man and his old brown poodle.

"Perfect," I snatched it from him, trying to place it into the frame. After two minutes of struggling, the picture fit perfectly into the frame, Makkachin smiling up at me from the ground. "Hey, old boy." Patting Makkachin's head, I passed Viktor my sucky creation, the man staring at his picture fondly. It seemed that the picture had been taken awhile ago, probably from the fact Makkachin's eyes didn't sag nearly as much as now.

"I like it, Tatiana," Viktor softly passed it back to me, grabbing Makkachin's leash from a hook. "I'm going to take Makkchin out. Join if you want." As the silverette exited the apartment, I was left alone to stare at the photo.

"Excuse me, sir?" A young woman in a heavy coat stopped by Viktor and I, an extremely odd look on her face. It was slightly seductive, and I didn't particularly know why.

"Hmm?" Viktor looked up, faking his smile once more. Elbowing him slightly in the ribs, I tried to get him to smile like he meant it.

"Drop the act. I'm Vivienne Chapman, your new competition!" She flashed a dazzling smile, flipping her short curly hair, just backwards. "Five year gold medalist in senior woman's division at the Grand Prix Final, Nikiforov."

"Wow! Amazing!" Viktor smiled brightly, his face actually lighting up in happiness.

"Yes, yes, I know," Vivienne did her little hair flip again, before her face becoming serious. "I need your help." Placing her hands together, she looked slightly desperate. There was something wrong with this woman.

"B-but didn't you just say-" I was about to say something when I was cut off by Vivienne's finger on my lips.

"Shh, shh, shh. Shush," Snapping her fingers, facing Viktor once more. "I wasn't asking you, I was asking Nikiforov."

Horrible problem after another. When was all this going to end?