Morning arrived too fast and not fast enough, the particular contradiction of a day Ivy had been both dreading and anticipating in equal measure since Coach Orlova had first posted the bracket the afternoon before.
She warmed up in the hotel room's cramped space before the team bus even left for the venue, running through footwork drills with a focus that felt, for the first time in days, entirely uncomplicated by anything beyond the immediate physical task in front of her — advance, retreat, advance-lunge, the rhythm her father had built into her years ago, steady and familiar despite everything else that had changed since she'd first learned it in a driveway that belonged to someone else now.
Marina had called that morning, her voice carrying warmth and quiet confidence down a phone li
