by Julie Cross
He shook his head and gave me a shove toward the vault. “Like I said, lawyer in the making.”
***
After timed warm–ups, my three teammates and I were lined up in the arena hallway, now wearing our new blue and black long–sleeved leotards, when I got a text.
JORDAN: I’m in section A, row G, seat 5. Love you and good luck
I smiled at my phone before tucking it away. So, Bentley had let him stay. Even got him a ticket. Or else he did it without permission. Either way, I wasn’t complaining at all. I wanted him here.
“Feeling good today, Karen?” Stevie asked from behind me. “I’m not going to take less than a real fight from you.”
I turned around and smiled at her. “Very good. In fact, you should be worried.”
I could practically hear her smiling, even over all the applause as we entered. My stomach filled with butterflies. I was too nervous to look for Jordan in his seat. It was enough to know he was watching. After the teams were introduced, the national anthem was played. My eyes swept the stands, and instead of feeling empty, knowing my parents weren’t actually there this time—the last time I’d competed they’d been in the stands—I felt them somehow. I didn’t know if it was a weird spiritual awakening. I didn’t feel the urge to pray or worship anything, but I felt them here.
Blair reached out and grasped my hand, squeezing it gently. I blinked away more tears, hoping that my eyes wouldn’t end up black. Maybe they weren’t really here in any sense, but I could put them here. All those seats and faces I couldn’t make out. It might as well be my mom and dad.
I squeezed her hand back, remembering that I wanted to prove a lot of things to a lot of people today. But maybe I just needed to start with me.
Unlike yesterday, the four of us got to rotate together as a team, along with eight other girls. I watched my three teammates land their vaults with no problems; even Stevie had a slightly smaller step than yesterday. Before my turn, Bentley came up behind me and whispered, “You’re doing an Amanar today.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“You were right earlier, Karen. I do want to prove to Nina that my girls are the best,” he said. “But even more than that, what you can do, Karen, it’s amazing, and I want everybody to see it. That’s what I’ve been looking forward to most in Chicago.”
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and feeling his hands drop from my shoulders. “Don’t forget chalk,” he whispered before walking away.
I re–dipped my hands into the chalk bin and mentally went through the vault, trying my best to think of what Bentley had told me about sticking.
Relax. Sink into the floor.
As I flew through the air and my feet approached the mat, the panic reaction hit just for a second, that urge to step or hop forward, but I let all the air whoosh out of my lungs, and my feet did not move. I could hear my teammates cheering from their seats off the podium.
It was the first time in my entire life that I’d ever stuck a forward landing vault. And Bentley knew that. So I think he must have been right about us speaking the same language, because when I turned around to see him, he just stared at me and I knew what to do. And that didn’t include letting the whole world know that I’d never stuck a landing like that before and that it might be a fluke.
I walked off the mat, not even smiling, and Bentley gave me a tiny nod, and when I was able to stand next him, I could see him smiling a little. “Nice job, Karen. Very nice.”
Ellen went first on bars, and she fell on her first release but hit the rest of the routine otherwise. I stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders while she cried and tried to stop crying. When it was my turn, I could see Nina from the corner of my eye, ready to take all the points for my missed handstands, and I made the decision to just go for it, fall or no fall.
I took every handstand right to the edge of tipping over, and I caught my layout Jaeger, completely stretched, by the very tips of my fingers. I had a tiny step on my double front dismount.
When I turned around to see Bentley’s reaction, he had a hand to his chest. After I made it back to the bench, he said, “You gave me a heart attack on those handstands. I think if Stacey had breathed a little harder from the other side, you would have fallen over.”
I grinned at him and loved the fact that he had made me do something that made him extremely nervous. Served him right. He should have to suffer a little for those extra turns he made me do.
Before beam, Stacey stood beside me, rubbing my arms, loosening me up. “Nina said I need to be more artistic. I’m not sure how to fix that today.”
“It just means energy,” she said. “That comes from somewhere other than your limbs.”
My beam routine was even better than the one I had done in Houston at the last camp, especially since I didn’t collapse into a panic attack this time, and I landed my tucked full with my chest higher. As soon as my feet hit the mat after my double pike, I saw Stacey, of all people, bawling her eyes out.
Stevie, Blair, Ellen, and I had no idea what to say. She made us huddle together and hug her and then she finally mumbled, “That’s the first time none of you have fallen off beam in a meet. I’m so proud. All four of you had bad feet and terrible leaps years ago. We’ve come a long way.”
I smiled down at the floor, not wanting to rain on Stacey’s moment by laughing. But it was pretty obvious she and I would never have the serious chat about philosophical aspects of life and death like I’d had with Bentley. Stacey was gymnastics. She was exactly like me before I lost my parents—a one–track gymnastics mind.
The only score I looked at all day was floor, since that was my last event, and it was the highest floor score I’d ever gotten. When they flashed the meet results, I ended up second and Stevie placed third. Ellen won the juniors and Blair was fifth. I’d fulfilled half of my deal with Bentley by placing second, but today’s scores were only a part of the Pan Am equation, and we had to wait for those results to be announced whenever the committee finished talking about us.
On my way to the bathroom, Jordan found me and picked me up, giving me a huge hug. “You were so awesome!”
“I’m so glad you didn’t go home,” I said into his neck.
“You’ve never stuck that vault before, have you?” he asked.
“No way. I almost fainted.”
“I think my dad did, too.” He set me down on the ground again and kissed me. “Go wherever you were headed before I get you in trouble again.”
He gave me a nudge in the direction of the arena, and when I returned to my teammates it was time for them to announce the Pan Am team.
Ellen’s name was announced first. Then Blair, which got a huge yelp from all of us. In fifth place, she’d been right on the bubble, taking that last spot. Then Stevie’s name was announced for the Senior Team, followed by three other girls. I held my breath and crossed all my fingers behind my back. And then Nina Jones herself spoke into the microphone and said my name.
Karen Campbell.
When I walked up to get my flowers and plaque, I heard Nina announce Bentley as the Team USA coach for the senior girls. Even though it was more Coach Cordes’s style to give the giant bear hugs, I got one from Bentley today. And then he said, right into my ear, so only I could hear, “It’s just the beginning, Karen.”
The beginning. I like that.
Spread the word
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Acknowledgements
I just want to take a moment to thank all
the readers who picked up this book; Letters to Nowhere is truly the book of my heart and it means so much to me that readers are willing to go on this journey with me. Thanks to those who followed me from the Tempest series all the way into the depths of a contemporary story, very much lacking in time travel and hand-to-hand combat.
A special thanks to all my early beta readers (would love to name each of you but I’m determined to keep this short) who read and supported Karen’s story long before I had any idea what to do with this book. I value each and every one of you for your time and your feedback. I hope you see bits of your efforts sprinkled throughout this manuscript.
Thanks to the amazing, intelligent and meticulous efforts of my copyeditor and proof reader. Also thanks to the gymnastics community for being some of the most passionate and dedicated people in the entire world.
About the author
Julie Cross is the International Bestselling author of the Tempest series, a young adult science fiction trilogy which includes Tempest, Vortex, and the final installment, Timestorm (St. Martin’s Press). She’s also the author of Letters to Nowhere (8/13), a mature young adult romance set in the world of elite gymnastics, as well as several forthcoming young adult and new adult novels with publishers like Entangled, Sourcebooks, HarperCollins, and St. Martin’s Press/Thomas Dunne Books.
Julie lives in Central Illinois with her husband and three children. She’s a former gymnast, longtime gymnastics fan, coach, and former Gymnastics Program Director with the YMCA.
Description
From the International Bestselling Author of the Tempest series
A Mature YA contemporary set in the tough world of Elite Gymnastics.
Her family may be shattered, but her dreams aren’t…
Seventeen year old Karen Campbell has just lost both her parents in a tragic car accident. Grief stricken and alone, her gymnastics coach opens his home to Karen, providing her a place to live while she continues to train, working toward a spot on the world championship team.
Coach Bentley’s only child, seventeen year old Jordan is good-looking and charming enough to scare away a girl like Karen—someone who has spent ten times more hours on balance beams and uneven bars than talking or even thinking about boys. But the two teens share a special connection almost immediately. It turns out Jordan has a tragic past of his own, grief buried for years.
As Karen’s gymnastics career soars, her nightmares and visions of the horrible accident grow in strength. She can only avoid facing her grief for so long before it begins to surface and ultimately spin out of control in a very dangerous way. Can discovering love and lust (simultaneously) help with the grieving process or will it only provide a temporary distraction while waiting for reality to hit full force?
EDITORIAL REVIEWS
“Poignant and emotionally-charged, Letters to Nowhere is about the befores and afters that color our daily lives.”–Sophia Bleu, author of Catching Liam
“Letters to Nowhere is a beautiful story filled to the brim with hope, growth, and the magic of teenage relationships that will blow readers away.”–The Book Cellar
“That perfect mix of sweet and emotional, Letters to Nowhere had me hooked. I love Karen and Jordan so much!”–A Good Addiction
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Spread the Word
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Description
