Race for the Gold. Dana Mentink

who only saw the best in others.

      Teeth grinding, he signaled her to continue her stair workout. He would not let anybody rob her the way they had him.

      Sweat glistened on her face as she leaped up the steps sideways to work her ankles and the dozens of intricate muscles that could mean the difference between a great athletic performance and an average one. She darted a look at him when she passed. He did not return it.

      Focus, Laney. Worry about winning. I’ll take care of the rest. He’d decided that it was time to go on the offensive. He was going to find out exactly who Hugh Peterson was and why he was so fascinated by Laney.

      Jackie joined him, and together they watched Beth hop up the steps several paces behind Laney.

      “Slow,” Jackie called. “Too slow.”

      “You try it,” Beth huffed as she continued on.

      Jackie shook her head.

      Max shifted at the awkwardness between Beth and her coach. He felt as though he should offer support, but he was not sure how. Instead, he fired off a question. “How well do you know Beth’s mother?”

      Jackie started. “She pays me to coach, and I do. I don’t have a close personal relationship with my employer. It’s better not to.”

      He recognized the jibe. It was probably a fair one. He was too close to Mr. Thompson. At times, during those long sleepless nights when his aching hip kept him awake, he wondered if he had been given the trainer’s job out of pity. Poor Max, who could not compete. At least he could be near the sport that was in his blood. What else was he qualified to do, anyway? Shame warmed his cheeks.

      “Why do you ask?” Jackie watched as the athletes jogged down the far staircase to start again, this time leaping up to every third step. “About Beth’s mother?”

      “Heard she was in town a week ago, but I never saw her here. Usually parents are going to come and see how their kids are doing, you know?”

      “She must have had business here. I didn’t see her, either. We spoke on the phone. Mrs. Morrison is...not like other parents,” Jackie said. “That’s probably why we have a good working relationship.”

      “I’m sure she contacted Beth, anyway,” Max said. By the shift in Jackie’s shoulders, he knew she was anything but sure.

      They went quiet, their conversation overtaken by the squeak of athletic shoes on the tile floor and the hard breathing of Beth, Laney and the two dozen men and women training to snag one of the coveted spots on the American team. Max noted with pride that Laney was first. She worked the hardest of any speed skater he’d ever met, except possibly for himself.

      “Did your parents come to see you?” Jackie asked, breaking into his thoughts. “When you were training for Vancouver?”

      He’d wished they hadn’t, sometimes. His mother was so small, so frail and he knew when she watched him skate that she saw another child there, a tiny boy who stood on wobbly skates that dwarfed his skinny legs, trying to keep up with his older brother Max for one precious season before the seeds of disease sprouted in his bones. There had always been that lingering memory of Robby skating along with Max for every race won and nearly won. But for Max, Robby wasn’t following in his memory, he was embedded in his heart, and every win was a way of carrying his brother along in this life, too.

      I will win because my brother didn’t.

      I will thrive because You did not save him.

      I will be the best, in spite of anything You can throw in my way.

      But he’d failed in that quest, failed himself, failed his brother and parents.

      He realized Jackie was waiting for an answer, regarding him solemnly. “Yes, my parents came to watch me.” He made a pretense of checking his training schedule.