I slam the locker room door so hard the metal rattles. There is no way this happened. No way Lena Merritt, shaky, panicky, washed‑up Lena, beat me. ME. How the hell did she beat me? I pace back and forth, nails digging into my palms, heart pounding so loud I can barely hear myself think. Third place. She got third place. My spot. I should be on that podium. I should be the one everyone’s cheering for. I should be the one Evan is looking at like she hung the moon. But no.
Lena skates one decent routine, one, and suddenly the whole world is acting like she’s some miracle comeback story. I grab my skate bag and throw it against the bench. It hits with a dull thud, not nearly satisfying enough.
“How?” I hiss under my breath. “How did she f*****g beat me?”
Her jump wasn’t even perfect. She p
