My short program goes flawlessly.

I do my triple lutz–triple toe loop combination. I do my straight line step sequence for the sake of the judges. I do the flying sit spin with its death drop that makes the crowd ooh and ahhh. My triple axel goes off without a hitch.

I do it all with pizzazz and confidence and with Joya’s good-luck star earrings sparkling brightly from my ears. I hope she sees them shining there on television.

“¡Qué bonito, mija!” my mother screams from the stands.

Before I skate a victory lap around the rink, smiling and waving at the crowd, I pause a beat in front of the spot where Mr. Chen, Luca, and my mom are jumping up and down like lunatics and I blow them a kiss. When the little girls sweeping the ice of teddy bears and other stuffed animals bring them over to the Kiss and Cry, I give each one of them a hug instead of turning away from them in tears like I did last time.

“Nice job, Esperanza,” Coach Chen says, giving me a squeeze followed by a kiss on the cheek when my scores come out, the two of us smiling and celebrating on camera for all the world to see. “No tears for you tonight.”

I brush my left hand along the shoulder of my costume. “It must be my lucky Chen,” I tell her, and she laughs.

I start to feel a little redeemed. Like I might even have a shot at gold. Mai Ling is a full point and a half ahead of me, and Irina Mitslaya is two tenths of a point in front for the silver, but I’m still totally in this thing.

If Mai Ling doesn’t go for a quad in her free skate, I could pull off gold.

Then again, so could Meredith. She came out onto the ice tonight with her arms swinging, ready for battle. We’re only one tenth of a point apart.

Stacie, to everyone’s shock and dismay, is trailing far behind at number 10. She actually fell. Landed on her butt not once, but twice. I would be lying if I said I felt bad for her. I just don’t.

As the clock ticks down the last twenty-four hours until my final Olympic performance, my only job is to stay focused.

Confident.

Drama-free.

Esperanza Flores, Queen of Drama, has left the building for good.

America’s Hope for Gold is back.

“Espi?”

Meredith is sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading a magazine when I walk in the door. My cheeks are flushed from standing outside for the last hour saying good night to Danny.

Yes, it took a whole hour.

It was mostly talking, though. His final game is tomorrow, so gold will be decided for the both of us on the same day.

“Hi, Meredith,” I say, sitting down across from her. “Your short program was amazing tonight.”

“Thanks. So was yours.” She sets the magazine aside. “I admire the fact that you didn’t say anything to Coach East about Stacie.”

“It’s not that admirable. I almost ratted her out to Coach Chen before I thought better of it. And I seriously did not do it for Stacie. I meant what I said earlier. The only reason I didn’t tell was so Stacie couldn’t say that whoever wins does so only because she didn’t skate.”

Meredith gets a happy, faraway look in her eyes. “Well, either way, Stacie is now the victim of her own evil ways.”

“You’re really glad she choked, aren’t you?”

She nods. “I’ve spent years in Stacie’s shadow. It’s about time I go out on my own.”

I take my hair out of its topknot, bobby pin by bobby pin. “You may have distanced yourself from Stacie, but you’re not on your own exactly. And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” I add quickly.

“No?”

I shake my head. “You still have me as a friend. If you want.”

Meredith smiles. “I want.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I definitely do.” A cloud passes over her. “Promise me something, though.”

“Okay,” I say cautiously.

“Promise me that regardless of what happens tomorrow night, regardless of whether you and I both medal, if only one of us medals, or if neither of us do, you’ll still be willing to be friends.”

I laugh. “Of course. That’s an easy promise to make.”

“Really?”

I nod.

“Good,” she says. “Now let’s talk about the important stuff. I want to know what’s going on with you and Danny Morrison. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t look out the window tonight and see you two making out. And I met this short-track skater boy and he’s totally cute.”

I sit across from her on my bed and the two of us dish happily about boys and the Olympics so far and a million other things.

When we finally go to sleep, I’m still smiling.

“Time to warm up, Espi.” Coach Chen ushers me out of the dressing room after I’m all sewn in, straight toward the official who’s waiting to let me onto the ice. “Impress those judges during warm-ups,” she goes on. “Give them a little preview of what they’re about to see — but hold back the quad sal. Make sure the technical panel sees your footwork. And finish off with a nice Ina Bauer or one of your spins.”

“Yes, Coach. Will do.”

“Nice dress,” she adds with a smile.

I give her a big smile back. “Did you know? Someone wore it to win Olympic gold a couple of decades ago.”

“I did hear that.”

“Maybe its luck will rub off on me.”

Still smiling, I skate out onto the ice. Warm-ups at international competitions are for showing off. I do a quick lap, a back spin, and then go straight into some jumps, with a little footwork in between. The technical panel always wants to see a step sequence a couple of times before they can give it a level three or four grade of execution, and tonight is not the night to be holding back. I focus on my spins next. Jumps are easy for the judges to score, but the spins require a high GOE, so they’re worth doing a few times in front of the panel. I do my best to stay out of the way of the other skaters and try not to notice who is doing what, since I don’t want to psych myself out. I don’t even look to see if Mai Ling is attempting a quad. I stop to stretch my arms and shoulders, grateful for the television holds that give us a precious few minutes off camera to get ourselves ready. Then I do one last fast lap around the rink and finish off with an Ina Bauer before curtsying to the judges and the audience. The curtsy is a sign of respect and gratitude that they watched you.

I use the last minute of warm-ups to try to relax a little and talk to Coach. I’m practically made of nervous energy by the time I reach the place where she waits for me with a bottle of water.

“You’re almost there, Espi,” she says, and gives me a great big hug. “In less than an hour, this will all be over.”

“I know,” I say, butterflies erupting in my stomach. “Don’t remind me.”

I shake out my arms and legs just to have something to do.

I wish they gave parents credentials to wait by the ice entrance so I could hang out with my mother, but they are really strict about these things at the Olympics. To see her, I’m going to have to go into the stands afterward.

While I wait to get called, I stay away from the skater’s lounge. The last thing I need is to be around food, which I think would make me nauseous at this point, or hear the television commentary and the scores as the other skaters compete. I always hate listening to the announcers during people’s programs, because then I start to imagine what they must be saying about me to the entire world while I’m skating. Besides, I’d rather see the competition from backstage, where I have a direct view of the ice.

Mai Ling is up, and I hold my breath.

She skates like a machine.

Perfect.

Powerful.

But lacking a little in the pizzazz department.

And no quad sal.

I’m practically bouncing up and down on my toes about this.

When she comes off the ice, there are no smiles for her from her coach, and she doesn’t smile for the crowd either. She waves, but she’s more like a girlish figure-skating robot than someone you watch and think, She really loves this sport. She’s gracious to the sweepers, though, and gives each of them a hug when they hand her the gifts they’ve picked up off the ice.

Her scores are great.

But they’re not unbeatable.

Irina Mitslaya is as perky as perky gets. She almost reminds me of Stacie with her blond hair and her sparkling smile. She messes up some of her footwork, though, which is going to affect her GOE. And she’s off by half a rotation on her triple lutz.

The crowd loves her regardless. They jump to their feet while she blows kisses and waves.

Her scores open up a wide gap between gold and silver, however.

There is room to squeeze in between her and Mai Ling.

“Espi, you’re on deck. Meredith’s up now.”

“Come on, Meredith,” I yell. “You can do it!”

It turns out that Meredith has some tricks up her sleeve too. She does a perfect triple axel, though her balance on the landing was a little off. But then she does another going into one of her jump combinations.

I thought I was the only one other than Mai Ling with a triple axel. I guess not.

“Did you know she had that?” Coach Chen leans in to whisper.

“No idea.”

“You’ve got to land that quad sal, Espi.”

“I know.”

When Meredith finishes, the crowd leaps to its feet. She skated a nearly flawless program, but she also showed the kind of personality that only someone like Irina Mitslaya usually manages. Stuffed animals litter the ice.

When she exits the rink, her lungs are heaving and her cheeks are flushed.

Before she enters the Kiss and Cry, I give her a big hug. “You were amazing, Meredith. Those triple axels were so high!”

She looks at me a little guiltily. “I should have told you about them.”

But I smile back. “It’s okay, and no, you shouldn’t have. Then I would have had to tell you about my amazing quad sal — and that I’m totally nailing it tonight.”

Her eyes get wide, then she starts to laugh. “May the best skater win.”

I nod. Then Meredith joins Coach Danson in the Kiss and Cry to wait for her scores. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a long time.

Meredith doesn’t have to wait long.

The crowd gasps.

Her scores are really high.

High enough by a tenth of a point to knock Mai Ling into second.

Meredith squeals. Coach Danson picks her up and twirls her around. At least when she wins, he’s nice.

As she heads into the Mixed Zone where the press is waiting for her comments, and where they’ll film her watching me on the ice, she’s literally biting her knuckles. She takes her hand away long enough to look at me and say, “Good luck, Espi.” Then she disappears through a door into a frenzy of camera flashes.

“Going last is intense,” I tell Coach, trying to remember to breathe.

“Going last means you know exactly what you need to do. So go out there and do it.”

“You got it,” I say, and skate to the center of the ice.

The crowd hushes.

Just before the first bars of my music sound through the arena, I hear a few familiar voices.

“Go, mija! I love you!” This from my mother, obviously.

“Esperanza Flores! America’s Hope for Gold!” This from Mr. Chen.

“Break a leg, Esperanza Flores!” This from Jennifer Madison, who I am sure means exactly what she says.

I almost roll my eyes. But instead I just block her out.

Then I hear one last, “Go, Espi!”

It’s Danny’s voice.

By the time the first notes float through the speakers, I’m smiling wider than ever.

I feel like I can do anything right now.

And that quad sal in my program?

Let’s just say I nail it.

“Espi!”

Coach Chen is actually jumping up and down when I come off the ice to the Kiss and Cry. I’ve never seen her do that.

The crowd is on their feet too, screaming so loud I can’t hear anything. I put my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

“I’ve never skated that well in my life,” I say when I look up again at Coach Chen.

“You skated like your life depended on it,” she says.

“I skated like an Olympic gold medal depended on it,” I correct.

Coach laughs and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you. You’ll definitely medal. We just need to see how much the judges reward you for that quad sal. And those two triple axels. You got so much height on all your jumps!”

“Honestly, the more I skated, the more it felt like I was flying. The jumps almost got easier as I went along, so by the time I got to the quad sal, I knew I was going to make it.”

“It showed, Espi. It really did.” Then Coach looks over at the judges. “Here they come.”

My scores flash all at once.

Then a split second later the total comes up.

Dios mío.

“You did it, Espi!” Coach Chen is screaming, tears pouring down her cheeks.

But it takes me a minute to realize what she means. “I did it?”

“You won the gold!”

Excitement surges into my heart and chills run through my body. I lean into Coach as she bounces me up and down in a hug. “I can’t believe it,” I say.

“Believe it, Espi! You’re an Olympic gold medalist!”

“We are,” I say with a smile. A sense of peace floods through me, followed by joy.

So much joy.

When it’s time for the medal ceremony, Meredith comes over and gives me a giant hug. “Congrats, Espi. You deserve gold after that quad sal.”

“Thanks, Meredith. It was really close, though. It could have been either one of us. Congrats on the silver.”

She nods. “I’m happy it will be the two of us up there.”

“Me too,” I say.

We stand there, arm in arm, until she has to go out onto the ice to accept the silver and climb up on the podium.

Then, finally, after all this time, it’s my turn.