She bursted onto the ice and skated to her starting position. The music began. She lifted her arms, and floated them down to shoulder length. She skated backwards towards her first jump, a triple lutz, double toe combination. That was the last thing she felt conscious of; everything that followed fell into an autopilot mode; she skated and completed her elements, but she was so nervous. So so nervous. The music stopped and she holds her final position.
"You did great, Clara!" her coach said, being all encouraging.
"Thanks," she said in between huffs, she was still trying to catch her breath.
"Okay, let's sit down," coach said.
Clara sat down, drank from a water bottle her coach handed her, then looked up to the scoreboard. She was hopeful, but something was nagging at her.. was it not her best? No, she didn't feel like it was. But she did skate clean, it was a perfect performance. But did she feel it? Did she perform the routine? No, not this time. Yes, she skated clean, but it wasn't right. It wasn't from her heart.
"The scores are up!" coach said.
She got high marks and found herself in second place. "Thanks, coach, I'm going to take my skates off." Clara headed back to the locker rooms. She was alone there. She started unlacing her skates and hot tears started trickling from her eyes. They feel slowly down her cheeks. She wiped away the tears. This isn't how it's supposed to be, she thought. But how is it really supposed to be anyway? Something she hadn't ever felt yet, not since the very first time she stepped on the ice when she was six years old.
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