Combo Spin Anya was a mean, old Russian lady who would scare an armed criminal. She would throw things at us, and if I didn’t get my spin right by the second try, she would regale me with stories of how they drugged her in Russia for her to do better. I hated her, but all of a sudden my spins clicked. I hated her girls too—last month, one of them slashed me across the back as hard as she could while no one was looking. She knew I was improving faster than her. Last week, someone stuck gum all over my bag. I was now having two lessons a day twice a week and Coach Pam every day. I also added Coach Graham. He was from England and wasn’t very nice to me either, but not in a malicious way. Every day he would ask me if I was pretty, and I would say yes… he would respond, “Yes, you are pretty ugly.” I stopped laughing after the first few times, and so did he. Today, my mom screamed at me through the glass to fix my arm… seems like there is always something major that needed to be fixed yesterday. Graham, half-sarcastic, half-serious, bangs his head against the plexiglass, acting like he’s trying to put himself out of his misery with me. He really is sweet, but sometimes he hurts my feelings… which had never happened to me until now. I told my mom this one day, and she mentioned it to Graham the next day. His eyes welled with tears. Suddenly, I noticed no improvement with Coach Pam. I had some problem with my jumps, and I didn’t know why. This year, we went to a competition in Virginia. She was acting really odd, and I didn’t know why. I was so nervous for this competition. My parents watched anxiously from the top balcony of the huge rink. I fell hard in warmup, and Coach Pam didn’t calm me down like usual. I fell hard in competition. For the first time ever, I got silver… and only because of my killer combo spin.