Narrator:While Sheila Lin seemed to come out of nowhere, Kirk Lockwood came from a long skating bloodline. His family founded the Lockwood Performance Center, which is known for turning out champion figure skaters—including Kirk’s mother, Carol, who won silver in ladies singles at the Cortina Games.
Jane Currer:It was quite the scandal, when Kirk left his partner for Sheila. He and Deborah Green had been together almost ten years, and they’d just won gold at Junior Worlds.
Kirk Lockwood:Maybe if I was a nicer person, I’d say I regretted it. But I don’t. Teaming with Sheila was the first decision I made on my own, without my parents telling me what to do.
Jane Currer:Sheila manipulated him. He was the best, and she wanted him for herself.
Kirk Lockwood:She was better than I was, and I knew she’d make me better than I could’ve ever been with Debbie. You had to skate up to Sheila’s level, because she wasn’t gonna skate down to yours.
Old, glitchy camcorder footage shows Sheila and Kirk practicing synchronized side-by-side rotations, also known as twizzles. Kirk loses his balance and falls. Sheila doesn’t even slow down.
Kirk Lockwood:And if you couldn’t get on her level? Well, too damn bad for you.
Chapter 6
A hand reached down, and I took it.
I didn’t realize until I was back on my feet that it belonged to the boy with the blue sequined suspenders.
If the girl was Isabella Lin, he must be her twin brother, Garrett. Their resemblance to their famous mother was unmistakable. They both had Sheila’s high cheekbones, her full lips, her shampoo-commercial hair. And they’d clearly inherited her skating talent as well.
Winning two consecutive gold medals was a rare feat, but Sheila Lin had accomplished something even rarer: managing to stay competitive after motherhood. The twins were born following her first Olympics. At her second, they had front row seats.
I knew Isabella and Garrett had followed in their mother’s footsteps, but I still thought of them as the little kids I’d seen on Sheila’s lap during the Calgary coverage. They were younger than Heath and me, though not by much: fifteen, and already competing at the senior level, skating circles around teams a decade older. Amazing what you can accomplish when you’re born with the best coach in the world.
“Are you hurt?” Heath asked, putting his arm around me.
I was still holding on to Garrett Lin’s hand. I dropped it, backing up and brushing ice off my leggings. “I’m fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
Every skater is used to falling. I knew how to brace myself to absorbthe impact and prevent injury, but I’d been too caught up in the moment, already down before I realized what was happening.
“I’m so sorry.” Garrett looked more upset than I was. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t apologize to them.”
Unlike Garrett, who was pushing six feet and still growing, his sister shared Sheila’s petite stature. Isabella barely came up to my chin, yet somehow she seemed to be staring down her nose at me.
“It was their fault,” she said.
Heath’s fingers tensed, digging in. A dull ache radiated from my shoulder.
“You ran intous,” he said.
Isabella crossed her arms. “Our music was playing.”
“Whoever’s program music is playing gets the right of way during a practice session,” Garrett explained. His tone was kind, not even a hint of condescension. “But even so, we should have been paying more attention. Are you sure you’re okay? If you hit your head, or—”
“She’s fine.” Heath steered us toward the boards. With every stroke of my skates, the ache in my back spread, rooting deeper in my spine.
I couldn’t be injured. We were at the National Championships. We had three straight days of competition ahead. We’d worked so hard.
“What are you doing atNationals,” Isabella called after us, “if you don’t even know—”
“Bella.”
The voice was soft, even-toned. But both twins snapped to attention as if they’d been issued a military command. I followed their gaze, and there she was.
Sheila Lin.
