A couple of weeks later, things have changed. And it’s driving me nuts. Robin and I keep flirting. But we don’t get to see much of each other. Robin and I are somehow always assigned to different sections of the city. I’m not sure if Viktor is trying to screw with us by keeping Robin and me apart. I wouldn’t put it past him. The old man is truly starting to piss me off. Mainly because of the so-called training sessions.
This morning is no different from the others. It’s five in the morning. I’m fully soaked from the rain when I meet Viktor at the warehouse next to Champion Couriers. I’m pretty sure that we’re not supposed to be here. When it rains, we always use the same abandoned warehouse. I don’t think anyone cares about the place—it’s basically a big empty box with a bunch of broken windows. But we have to slide through a chained door that Viktor had me force open.
Viktor flicks some heavy switches. Pools of light flicker on down the length of the warehouse. There are big concrete columns marching away into the distance. The floor is dry, but the air is still damp. I’m shivering, even in my hoodie. Viktor slaps his hands together.
“Cold, heh? Let’s get you moving. Today we practice cornering again. I want you to go in between the columns, like we did before. Remember, no brakes. Just balance.”
Aw, crap. Not this again. The last few times we’ve been here, Viktor has had me weave in between these stupid columns. Thing is, I’m supposed to do it as fast as possible. No brakes, no turning the handlebars. I need to steer just by shifting my weight, leaning into and away from the columns. It’s tricky, and I’m not getting any better at it. I hate it.
But what bugs me is that I’m starting to think Viktor is just making this stuff up. That maybe he’s not the coach I thought he was. When I imagined getting trained by an Olympic winner, I kind of thought it would be hard-core, professional. By having a coach like him, I thought I’d made it to the big time.
Viktor waits impatiently for me to get going, a pudgy lump in his old gray sweater and faded jeans. There’s a fresh wave of rain against the roof, and I feel a drop hit my shoulder. None of this feels like the big time.
I saddle up and push off. Gaining speed, I make one full circuit of the warehouse, dodging back and forth around the concrete columns. Left, right. The flickering fluorescent lights make it hard to judge distance. Left, right. Then I cut a corner too close, clipping the base of a column. I spill, hitting the floor hard. My crash echoes around the huge building and dies away. Silence. Then the sound of Viktor laughing.
I pick myself up and stomp toward him.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” I yell. “Huh? Is this funny?”
I charge through each pool of fluorescent light back toward Viktor. He’s still laughing, hands on his knees. Killing himself.
“Is that what this is about? It’s all just a big joke, trying to see how long you can keep me fooled? How long until I realize that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing?”
I stop in front of him, my face now inches away from his. His smile shrinks a little.
“You make me do these stupid exercises every day,” I yell. “We don’t train with anyone else. We don’t race. Just this crazy shit. So when am I going to learn something useful?”
“You don’t learn anything?” Viktor says quietly, shrugging. “That is your problem. I teach. But I can’t make you learn.”
“Oh, so what, now I’m stupid? Who the hell do you think you are?” I say, so mad that I’m stumbling on my words. “You…you’re just someone who used to be great. You won a medal in the last century, and now you run a crappy little bike courier business. You’re the joke.”
Viktor’s face goes red, and his hand snaps up to slap me.