Homeschool

The next day, we were going to try lifts. Coach didn't think Chazz was ready, and Chazz didn't think Coach knew what the hell he was talking about. Me? I didn't think it was a good idea to get in the middle of it, so I kept my mouth shut.



Chazz, of course, had to prove his readiness by skating around on one foot, his entire (impressive) weight supported only by his shattered ankle. Eventually, Coach relented, probably only to prevent Chazz from shattering his pelvis, too.



"Cumon, Pretty Lady, let's try the Detroiter."



My mouth fell open. That lift was banned from medals competitions because it was deemed too dangerous. We had tried it a couple of other times before Coach had suggested the Iron Lotus, but always with safety harnesses, and never with much success.



"Detroiter? No way. Why don't we start with something less … deadly? Maybe something where you don't have to hold me over your head?"



Chazz grabbed me by the waist and spun me so that I was in the starting position.



"Where's your sense of adventure, MacElroy?"



I turned my head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Hello? I don't HAVE a sense of adventure, or have you been living with someone else the past six months?"



"Dude, are you kidding me? Your whole life is an adventure! Okay, a lame, Disney, G rated adventure, but cumon! The first ever Men's Pairs gold medal winner in the history of humankind? If that's not adventurous, then Chazz Micheal Micheals doesn't know what adventurous is."



I couldn't help but smile. "Really? You think that?"



"Sure. You did something that a lot of other dudes would be too scared to try. So what do you say, Goldilocks, you gonna trust Papa Bear?"



He held out his hand, and holding my breath, I took it.



Chazz gave Coach the nod, and we began skating a large loop, gaining the speed required for the maneuver. I spun on my heel, now facing backwards, and placed my right hand on Chazz's shoulder.



"Ready?" I asked, nervous and excited to be back in action together. Chazz nodded and hooked his right hand under my raised, left knee. "Are you sure?" I asked, concerned by the way his jaw was clenched.



"Alleyoop!" he grunted, and lifted me past his chest. I moved my knee to the solid surface of his shoulder and he deftly grabbed my hand with his now free one.



"Still okay?" I asked, the wind whipping my hair into my eyes. I grabbed the top of his head and pulled myself even higher, as he pushed my butt up and over his head.



"Yeah!" he said, although in response to my question or in triumph I'm not sure. I tentatively let go of his hair and stretched out my arms, wobbling while I strove to find my equilibrium.



"Got it, Jimmy?"



"Yeah," I said, finally finding my center of gravity. I did! I had it!



"Fuckin' A," he said, bringing one hand down and putting us into the spin that the Detroiter is known for. The stands were whipping by too quickly to see much, but I heard Coach's excited cheer from the sidelines, and I grinned. Man, life didn't get much better than this.



I kind of flubbed the dismount, but not so much that we ended up falling. I had missed my grip for the descent, but Chazz shot out his hand and grabbed my arm before I tumbled, and I managed to find a solid edge to land on.



"Thanks," I said, breathless. Chazz tipped me a quick salute, and we were on to the side by side work, finishing up with a death spin. It felt great to be back on the ice, working as a team, and practice was over before I knew it.



Coach practically bowled me over as we left the ice.



"Jimmy! That was amazing! Your arms needed a bit of work, but you totally nailed the spin! Both of you." He looked up at Chazz and clapped his shoulder. "Chazz, what can I say, buddy? You're as strong as a bull!"



"Sperm whale," Chazz corrected and they both laughed. My feeling of euphoria diminished, however, as we arrived at the change rooms. As Chazz took off his skates and stripped down, I rooted around in my gym bag, taking out the clothes I was going to wear, and folding them on the bench. As soon as Chazz left for the showers, I tackled the problem of removing my skates.



Chazz showers for an average of seven minutes, nine if he's going to masturbate. I was a bit shocked when he came out and admitted it earlier, but knowing him and his disposition, it was hardly a secret. Considering that he wanked last night, and would probably be tired from today's practice, I had seven minutes maximum. It probably takes me one minute per skate, so I would have only three tries per skate if I was going to finish before he came out.



I centered myself and began to carefully tap and count each eyelet, taking care to not cross the laces.



Ten minutes later, Chazz emerged. I still had both skates on and was hyperventilating. He pointedly did not look at me while he got dressed, and I prayed that he had enough sense to just leave. Of course he didn't.



"Hey, Rain Man, hurry up, you're gonna miss Wopner."



"Go to hell," I hissed. My hands twitched, itching to tap and count, and I bent over, pressing them to my chest. "Go away, you fat sack of crap."



"See? That's the difference between you and me," he said, walking over and kneeling in front of me. "I AM a fat sack of crap, and I know it. And I don't care! I'm also rude, a bit dumb, and a shameless whore. And you know what? I accept it. It's who I am. People dig me anyway. Hell, people dig me BECAUSE of it!" He picked up my foot and placed my skate on his thighs, the blade resting between his knees. "Do you think people will like you less because you're C.O.D?"



"It's O.C.D," I spit out, "and yes, I KNOW they will like me less. Now let go of my foot."



Chazz ran his fingers down the laces. "I want to help you."



"No!" I cried, jerking my foot away, but he held tight.



"I know you're a bit twitchy, and I like you anyway. What are you afraid of? What's going to happen if you don't take off your skates perfectly?"



"Don't," I begged, trying to calm my erratic breathing. This was bad. This was very bad.



"Tell me what you're afraid of."



"Nothing. Just forget it, okay?"



"Then why do you do this?"



"Do you think I want to? Do you think I like being a freak? Because I don't. I hate it. I would do anything to be able to stop. To be …"



"Normal?"



"Yeah, normal." I tried to pull my skate away again, but he still held tight.



"What if," he began, "you just WERE normal? What if you just THOUGHT you had to do all this crazy stuff to make the rest of your life work? What if things would turn out fine even if you didn't act all twitchy?"



"I don't know, Chazz. It's not that easy."



"Hey, bad shit happens to everyone, little bro. I can guarantee you that regardless of how spastically you convulse over your skates, it will either happen, or it won't. Any of us could get smoked by a bus, or killed by a jealous husband or pimp, at anytime! You deserve to be happy, Jimmy. You don't have to work for it so hard."



I shrugged. It sounded pretty simple when he put it that way.



"Trust me," he said, gripping my leg, "I won't let anything bad happen to you."



Chazz held up a fist, an invitation to our secret handshake. "Let's capture the dream. Please?"



I looked into those dark blue puppy dog eyes and felt my resolve crumble.



"Me and you," he continued, "we're a team. Together, we can do anything."



I made a fist, and after a moment's hesitation, raised it in the air. He was right, what was the worst that could happen? We bumped knuckles, did the Supernova, and bumped knuckles again.



"Cool! Now let's do this like a Band-aid, quick and painful."



I covered my eyes as Chazz unlaced and removed my skates. Miracle of miracles, the roof did not cave in, a bus didn't run us over, and there was nary a jealous husband or knife wielding pimp to be found. I started to breathe a little easier. Maybe Chazz was right after all.