“Also that.”
She huffs, and it sounds like it might be a laugh. I hear the click of something on the other end of the line that sounds suspiciously like the ancient lamp on her desk at her office.
“So?” she asks. “How is it?”
I look around the room like the answer might be written somewhere in it. From where I’m sitting on the bed, I can see the side of the rink right outside my window, and I hear the faint peals of laughter from the kids attending the disco night planned by some of the staff.
“It’s…” I trail off, searching for a word that doesn’t sound like I’m complaining or impressed or completely out of my depth.
Sandra waits.
“It works,” I say finally. “Everything works. The schedule is held by everyone. The ice is absolutely perfect, even better than Prague. Remember that time? There’s someone foreverything,Sanchi.”
“That’s what funding does,” she replies with a dreamy sigh. “And that ice was fucking spectacular, best I ever had.”
I press my lips together.
“There are too many people, though,” I say. “Three coaches on one single correction. Specialists for things that don’t need specialists. It feels—” I stop.
“Like you’re not needed?” she offers, reading the situation so well.
“No,” I say immediately, faster than normal. “Not like I’m used to.”
Sandra hums softly.
“And him?” she asks.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“He’s… good,” I say. “Better than good.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, Ceci,” she says. “It’s clear he’s ready for what’s coming.”
“He’s absorbing everything,” I continue. “Faster than I expected. He doesn’t wait for me the same way he used to, back home. Remember when he started? He just… goes.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. A shuffle and the ripple of fabric moving. Maybe she’s putting on her coat to head home after a long day at the office, juggling budgets and resources and people just so that a few skaters can get something. Anything.
“That’s the whole point,” Sandra says.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I exhale through my nose.
“This place—” I start, then stop again, recalibrating. “It runs on something else. It’s not just money. It’s… proximity? Attention. Who’s in the room when the decisions are made.”
Sandra doesn’t dare to interrupt.
“And everything here moves around her,” I add, completely unnecessarily because… I don’t even have to say Isabella’s name. Sandra justknows.
“Of course it does,” she says. “It’s been this way since forever.”
“She doesn’t even have to do anything,” I continue, and I want to laugh because I sound so resentful. It’s not funny, though. “She just stands there and people adjust. Coaches, staff, everyone. It’s like the shots are already called before anyone speaks.”
“That’s influence,” Sandra says. “You asked for him to be seen. This is exactly what that looks like.”
I close my eyes briefly.
