IT ALL FALLS APART (Chapter 133)
After Nationals, Warren and Sophie headed back to campus for spring semester. It would still be a challenge, but Warren's schedule was a bit more reasonable—three less credits, no labs, no Embryology and Genetics in the same semester—and Sophie's was manageable as well.
They managed to grab a little more time for themselves. They were lying in bed one evening in February, after having made love.
“Hey, I forgot to tell you,” Warren said. “I heard from Crash earlier today, in between classes. He called.” Warren grinned at Sophia. “He heard from his first-choice law school. He got in.”
“And where might that be?” Sophie smiled back.
“UCLA.”
“Oh, man, I'll bet Liz is thrilled.”
“He called her last night. He told me he heard this scream come from the other end of the phone.”
Sophie cracked up. “I'll just bet. Well, look at this. Both of our long-distance relationships are resolving themselves. Crash is moving to LA, and Tom's going to be a mere hour away from your sister.”
“Yup. Boy, has my sister changed, or what?”
“See what good lovin' will do?” Sophie giggled.
“Yeah, I'll say. Hey, I always hoped that she'd find someone to get her out of her shell. Tom shattered her shell. Although, I must admit, I'm flabbergasted she's already slept with him.”
“She told me a little secret,” Sophie grinned at him, “but I'm not sure it's something you want to know about your baby sister.”
Warren mock-glared at her. “Fine. Go ahead. You can't bait me like that.”
Sophie giggled. “Apparently, Kristin found out, and in one hell of a hurry, that she really really likes sex.”
“Oy. Ah well, I know she's careful.” He looked at Sophie. “Speaking of careful, we need to watch out for that International Date Line thing again, what with Worlds being in Beijing.”
“Don't worry, Snugglebear, got it covered. Once bitten, twice shy, and all that.”
“No little sister or brother for Betsy?” Warren teased.
“Sure. Just not now.” She looked up at him slyly. “Once we get past this whole both of us in school and going to the Olympics thing, I plan to let you knock me up at will.”
“Ah,” he laughed.
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About a week later, there was a knock at the door. Warren answered it.
“Alexa! How are you?” he said, letting her in.
“Hey, Prep Stud,” she teased. “Hiya, Betsy. Where's Sophie?”
“Class. What brings you around?”
“Just wanted to see you. We haven't had much time to hang out this year.”
“Don't I know it. Want a coke?”
“Love one.” They sat in the living room, chatting, watching Betsy toddle around.
“So, how's Mike?” Warren asked.
“Great. Do you realize we've been together for two and a half years? Me? With one guy that long?”
“It must really be love,” Warren teased.
“It is. The M word has come up in conversation.”
“It's a frickin' parade to the altar, isn't it?” Warren laughed.
“With you and Sophie in the lead, big surprise. And then Cait and Paul. Cait asked me to be her maid of honor.”
“Yeah, she's asked Sophie to be a bridesmaid. I'm going to be one of Paul's ushers. So, how are you dealing with monogamy?”
“Fine. Really. I guess I'm a one-guy girl at heart, now that I've found the right guy,” Alexa grinned.
“Yeah, well, that's guys,” Warren grinned.
“Oh, that. Well, Mike knows about and doesn't mind my occasional dalliances with girls.”
“Ah,” Warren laughed.
“Just once in a while,” Alexa told him. “Mike knows I'm bi. I kind of have a girlfriend. Her name's Eileen and she's a junior. She has a very steady boyfriend herself, both her guy and Mike know all about it. They're friends, so they'll go out with the boys, you know, and Eileen and I will stay in,” she grinned.
“Whatever works,” Warren said.
“Yeah. Well, you can't talk, I know all about Jessie.”
“Touche.”
“Anyhow. How are you holding up? I know things have been hectic.”
“Better this semester than last, but, yeah.”
“How do you manage?”
“No sleep, no sex,” Warren laughed. “Well, not enough sex. Not for the two of us.”
“Three times a day isn't enough for the two of you,” Alexa teased.
“Not quite but close,” Warren admitted.
“How is Sophie dealing with that?”
“Better than you'd ever suspect,” Warren told her. “She's fine. Horny, yes, but fine. It's different when you're living together. She sees what I'm going through with my schoolwork.”
“True.”
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Worlds were at the end of March in Beijing. It was a long flight, and Warren and Sophia were glad to get it over with. They rested in their hotel, then went to find some friends.
Tom Bellamy was the first they happened upon. “Hey, Tom, how's my sister?” Warren asked with a laugh.
“You're sister is great,” Tom laughed back.
“I figured I'd ask you—you see her more than I do.”
“Yeah, and even I don't see her enough. Soon, that'll all change. Thank goodness. I can't wait to move.”
“When?”
“Terri's going up in the next month. I'll follow after the tour.”
“You doing the whole tour?” Warren asked him.
“Yeah. Well, almost all of it. I'm taking a week off in May.” He grinned. “I have to take some chick to her junior prom.”
“Cool,” Warren laughed. “I'll bet she's thrilled.”
“Yeah. She knew it would conflict with the tour, so didn't think I was going to take her. I surprised her.”
“Good!”
They were soon joined by Liz, and the four of them took off to discover Beijing.
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It started right away, with the first of the two original dances, the Bossa Nova. It looked to Sophia and Warren that the Judging Mafia had expanded. It wasn't just the usual suspects—Russia, Italy, France, Ukraine. Nope, Germany was in on it, the Czech Republic, Hungary, a few others. People were jockeying to move their teams up, and got in on the pre-judging. The ones left out in the cold were Sophia and Warren, the British team, and the Irish (who had no judge on the panel). The French finished a laughable first, the young Russian team were second, the Italians third, the Hungarians fourth, and the Ukrainians fifth. Sophie and Warren finished sixth. Brenneman and Watts, the Brits, were all the way down in ninth. Evan and Shawna were dumped to eleventh.
Things didn't change much in the second original dance. The young Russians and the French flip-flopped, leaving them tied for first. Sophie and Warren beat the Ukrainians, putting them tied for fifth. But the lines were pretty much set, and Sophie and Warren had virtually no chance at a medal. Especially after the judges for the free dance were drawn—and the panel included judges from the five countries that were ahead of them, plus the Czechs and Germans, who were in on it.
They finished sixth. The most laughable part was that the French, Borisina and Dravouche, won—with one of the most boring, simple, and tedious free dances in memory. If the Russians, Kuznetsova and Vassilyevskiy, had won, there might have been some justification. Their free dance was, at least, good. But too many people saw this terrible free dance win, saw the British team light up the audience with a powerful and difficult dance and finish ninth, and saw Sophie and Warren's terrific Aaron Copland dance finish sixth.
The press conference turned out to be explosive. Warren, to his credit, told Curtis exactly what they were going to say. Curtis, who was as incensed at the outcome as Warren was, told him “You're going after the ISU, not the USFSA. I'm required to stay out of it publicly, of course, but go for it.”
Warren did. His first comment, about the French team's free dance, was, “If that's a World Championship worthy free dance, I'm Christopher Dean.”
Sophie joined in. “If I ever choreographed that piece of dung, I'd quit choreography in complete disgust with myself. And don't get me started on the lack of difficulty.” Then she said it. “This was rigged, from top to bottom. It was a heist job. Print that. Play it on TV. This competition was rigged.”
The president of the ISU, a slimeball from the speed skating side of the sport with no knowledge of figure skating who believed everything the Russian Federation told him, reacted as one would predict. “Are you accusing the judges of this panel of dishonesty?” he sputtered.
“Yes. You bet your ass,” Sophie said. Warren nodded agreement. “You have crooked judges. Period. You should fix it.”
“You have no proof!”
“The proof is in the final standings,” Warren maintained.
That was explosive enough. People started taking sides. “Never criticize the judges,” was an unspoken rule in figure skating. Of course, Sophie and Warren were never ones for rules. And, they did find people on their side.
The day after their press conference, they were vindicated. Alice Krenshaw, the American judge on the panel, called her own press conference. She had the backing of the USFSA, but was putting her international career at risk and she knew it—but she couldn't keep silent anymore. She had been approached to be part of the conspiracy. She had audiotapes of phone calls from the Russian judge to prove it. It was made clear to her that, if she didn't play ball, Warren and Sophia would finish exactly where they ended up—sixth. Cooperation on her part would get them back in the medals. She, of course, didn't play ball.
The news put the ISU into a complete uproar. Warren and Sophia thanked Mrs. Krenshaw for her integrity, then smiled as they watched the fur fly.
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There was one other bad thing that happened to the American team at Worlds, but this one was just bad luck. Brett Tomlinson got the flu. He and Andrea skated, but Brett, weak, fell twice. Andrea also fell once, on a throw jump where Brett didn't have enough energy to really get her in the air. They dropped all the way down to fifth.
Liz rang up yet another world championship without much of a challenge. And Tom, in another upset, again won the silver medal, as he had at the Grand Prix Final.
One of the bigger disappointments for Warren and Sophia was that only the top five in each discipline were allowed to take part in the exhibitions. Having finished sixth, they didn't skate.
They headed back to Wisconsin upset at the outcome, but not surprised—and delighted and amused by the ensuing firestorm.