“I’ve dealt with skating parents for decades. I let her say her piece and told her I appreciated her perspective before I hung up.”

“Oh, snap!” I laughed, imagining the steam coming out of Mom’s ears. That’s what she got for butting in. “Still, I’m sorry she bugged you.”

“Chemo is worse than your mother, I assure you.”

I hated how tired he sounded, small and almost frail. While he’d never even raised his voice once to me, he’d always had heft and strength when he spoke. He wasn’t a big man, but he had a commanding presence.

“Yeah, but still. You’ll be glad to know my quad Sal is feeling great.”

“Are you doing your run-throughs?”

“Mostly. Did you know Henry will do them over and over if he even makes one mistake?”

“He’s dedicated.”

“Yeah, but so am I. I’m just not going to give myself an injury going too hard. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to win.”

“Wanting to win and dedication aren’t quite the same thing,” Mr. Webber said dryly.

That stung, even if it was true. “But Henry’s so cold. There’s no passion there.”

“It’s true that he’s very internal. He interprets the music beautifully, but he doesn’t connect to the audience the way you do. I wouldn’t say there’s no passion. He’s controlled, but he loves skating. He puts effort and care into every movement.”

I got up from my bed, which was a mattress on the floor of my small condo. It was a studio with only the bathroom truly separate, the kitchen half open to the living space. Pacing, I insisted, “I love skating too.”

“If you say so.”

“I do! I’m good at it. I’ve always been good at it.”

“You have, Theo.”

Now he was humoring me. I wanted to argue more, but he said he was going to nap, so we said goodbye. I still paced, weirdly unsettled.

Even though I probably wouldn’t have made skating my career if my mom hadn’t pushed me, I couldn’t imagine what else I’d do. I’d graduated high school, but what would I even study if I went to college?

I was good at skating. There was money to be made on Asian tours and through endorsements. I’d always thought I’d be a good coach one day. Working with kids would be awesome, though I wasn’t the organized type. Henry would be great at that, but he’d be no fun. Though he’d probably be excellent at teaching technique.

Why was I thinking about Henry so much? Shaking my head, I flopped back on my mattress and logged in to Twitch to see what my favorite streamer was playing today. I wished I had a couch. Henry probably had a couch. He probably had a matching living room set like my parents. He—

There I went again, thinking about Henry.

“They’re spending more time with Sakaguchi than you.”

It took every ounce of control not to hang up without saying a word. Why had I answered? Well, because she had called ten times in a row, and it was easier to just talk to her and get it over with so I could go back to my Instagram scrolling.