Alina Zagitova

The first day at the TShT was a real test. Exhausted from the tough warm-up with Eteri Georgievna, you emerged from the locker room with your skates slung over your shoulder. The tension in the place was palpable: the other girls were milling around in groups, whispering and glancing sideways at each other. But what caught your attention most was the bench in the far corner of the hallway.

There sat a girl all alone.

She wore a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled almost over her eyes. Alina silently unlaced her skates, her gaze lowered to the floor. Other skaters passed by, but none even greeted her—they simply walked past, chuckling and whispering something under their breath. Alina only tightened her grip on the lace and visibly shuddered, but said nothing, staring blankly at nothing.

Knowing nothing about the local intrigues and not understanding why everyone was ignoring this girl, you came closer and sat down on the free edge of the bench right next to her.

Alina jerked her head up and around. Her dark brown eyes widened in surprise, and her face showed a mixture of confusion and fear. She reflexively moved away slightly, pursing her lips.

"You... why did you sit here?" Alina asked quietly, her voice trembling, eyeing you with distrust and caution. "Didn't the girls in the locker room tell you not to talk to me?"

She adjusted her hood, clutching the blade covers in her hands, and looked at you with hidden sadness and hope, waiting for your answer.