Two butter yellow banners for every gold medal. Two red banners for every world championship. I was pretty sure his parents had adopted him straight out of Hell.īut at that moment, nothing else mattered but those hanging tapestries.įive different blue banners proclaiming each of the national championships he’d won. Not because his last name was the same last name as one of my favorite people in the world, but because his first name reminded me of Satan. There were other names on there right alongside his-the other miserable souls he’d partnered up with over the years-but it was his that stood out. For the most part, it was the same thing I’d been seeing for the last thirteen years.īanners with the same jackass’s name on all of them.
Because I knew what was hanging from the ceiling of the dome-shaped facility. Rolling over onto the cheek I’d fallen on the least amount of times, I blew out a breath of frustration, managed to keep the “son of a bitch” I really wanted to scream inside my mouth, and tilted my head all the way back to make faces at the ceiling, figuring out almost immediately that decision was a fucking mistake. This was the second day in a row I hadn’t been able to land a damn jump. They might have to if I didn’t figure out what I was doing wrong, damn it. My butt cheeks could handle another two hours’ worth of falls tomorrow. By the time I’d busted my ass five times in a row, I figured it was time to call it quits.
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