Cathy had flown this route enough that the routine was almost automatic. Window seat. Headphones. Notebook resting on the tray table, untouched. Her gaze focused on the outside, where clouds thinned, and the jagged ridges of the Sierra Nevada revealed itself.
This was her fifth training camp, her first trip had been a mess of nerves, stressed the whole flight, checking her skate bag repeatedly, reacting to every sound in the cabin. Now the anxiety was quieter, contained. She ran through the schedule she had come to expect in her mind: conditioning, technical drills, maybe a program run-through. Mentally tracing her short dance, she tweaked a turn that had felt rushed in her last practice.
Across the aisle, she recognized other skaters: some that had been skating for years like her, and newcomers she only knew from competitions or whose transfer had been highlighted on social media. Some talked quietly, others leaned against windows. One thing Cathy liked about these training camps, was that they leveled everyone. Last seasonâs achievements didnât matter once the blades hit the ice, whether you had been a champion or failed miserably, this always was a reset.
Before Cathy realised, the wheels hit the runway. While everyone scrambled for bags, Cathy did the opposite, and waited. One she had shuffled out of the airplane, the airport air was cooler than she expected, faintly scented with mountain dryness. Outside the windows, peaks loomed sharp and quiet. By the time the team gathered near baggage claim, the charter bus was waiting. Staff sorted luggage while skaters drifted toward the curb in small groups. Cathy offered quiet nods to familiar teammates; she had never been the loudest, for her friendships grew slowly, through shared hours on the ice.
The bus wound upward, leaving civilisation behind, tall pines stretching long shadows across the road. Conversation ebbed and flowed; Cathy watched the scenery, her mind elsewhere. Eventually, the trees opened to the training complex: a wide modern structure of wood, metal, and glass, the rink roof soaring above surrounding cabins. Every year, she thought the same: this is where the real season starts. Titles didnât matter. Reputation didnât matter. Only the work waiting on the ice.
The bus slowed on the gravel drive. Some skaters leaned toward the windows, pointing things out. Cathy stayed seated, quietly observing. Five years. Five arrivals, each settling the same quiet anticipation deep in her chest.
When the bus finally came to a stop, she stood with the others and reached for her bag. The mountain air outside was colder than the airport had been, crisp and clean as she stepped down onto the gravel path. She instantly felt welcomes back, like this was her home base for the next week. Cathy adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and glanced toward the rink entrance before following the others inside. Training camp had officially begun.
As she found her way to the common room, she quickly glanced over to the room allocation list. Room D, Catherine Bell. She knew Zoya, but the other two girls, she hadnât spoken much to them before. She was very curious what they would be like. As this always was an important part, the people you were sharing a room with, they always seemed to play quite an important role in how your experience would turn out.
As Cathy walked over to her room, she could hear a faint voice call out âAnyone?â and then she heard the sound of a bag being dropped of the bed. She knew it wasnât Zoya, and somehow walking in second to someone she didnât know yet, it made her a little nervous. So, she took a deep breath, and told herself: Be social Cathy, get to know them a little. With that, she took the last steps to the room, and as if on cue with her opening the door, she heard the same voice say: âEvening, room D as well?â
Cathy stepped inside. âYeah,â she said calmly. âRoom D. So it looks like weâre roommates.â The layout was exactly how she remembered it from previous camps, the wooden bunks along the walls, the small seating area by the window, the bathroom door off to the side. One of the lower beds was already taken. As she crossed the room to claim another, her gaze briefly landed on the skates resting beside the other girlâs bag. The heavier boot, the blade setup. It all screamed pairs to Cathy.
She set her own bag down on the empty lower bunk. âCathy,â she introduced herself with a small nod and smile. âIâm in ice dance and singles, a weird combination, Iâm well aware.â she let out a small but controlled giggle. Then she allowed a short pause, unzipping her own bag. âLooks like we beat the other two here.â Her eyes flicked once more toward the girlâs skates before returning to her bag. âOh, and you must be in pairs, Iâm guessing.â
