Skaters linger in the hall outside the
locker room, some from Dante’s club but most from other parts of
the state, people Ryan doesn’t recognize. Everyone wears skinsuits
like leotards, and they lounge against the mats that line the
walls, lean in doorways, stretch where they stand to limber up.
Ryan’s reminded more of a ballet troupe than a skating event, the
way skaters tug at their legs to work the muscles or twist at the
waist to keep their blood flowing between races. One or two glance
at him as he wheels down the corridor but they see the chair and
look away as if he’s not even there.
At the far end of the hall, twin doors lead
to the player box and the ice beyond. As Ryan eases his chair to a
stop well away from the gathered skaters, the doors burst open and
the relay t
