Chapter 6At the practice rink, after getting a few more words from Tom Alan about his childhood—only four words, “Yeah. It was bad.”—Milo had excused himself to put in a call to his father. “I wished him good luck on his tests,” he said afterward. “The old man seemed nervous, alternating between ‘All I probably need is a healthy diet, more exercise, and a daily aspirin’ and ‘I hope I live to see you at the Olympics.’ I told him I’d be saving him a seat.”
“He’ll be there.” There was nothing else to say.
Mrs. Mischen called them to the ice. The first thing she told them was that she had sent a letter to Vitaly Mutko. “I am a Ukrainian woman who believes intolerance should not be tolerated,” she stated. “Change moves at a slightly slower pace over there. It will come. Perhaps by February, f
