Risk the Fall

by Steph Campbell

  He pinches the skin in between his eyes.

  “But nothing happened. She was wasted. I couldn’t very well take her home like that, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to leave her there, drunk, in a house full of guys, either. So I stayed the night in the room with her after she passed out, but I slept on the floor. I drove her home the next morning. That’s it.”

  “Oh.” Is all I can lamely muster. He grins back at me, seeing the surprise on my face.

  “Why in the world would you honestly think…” he starts. “Never mind.” He throws his head back in a booming laugh that catches me off guard. I can’t help but crack a smile and then join in.

  We board the bus together, taking the same seats we had on the way to the aquarium – though this time, he doesn’t keep his back turned to me. I’m thankful that the bus is filled to capacity with students and teachers so the camera crew can’t board with us. Pulling away from them, and the aquarium, the relief is palpable.

  “So, what’s on your agenda for the summer?” I ask Grant.

  “I’m going back to New York,” he answers. I feel my face fall at the mention of him leaving town. “Just for a month or so. My mom still has work there and I want to catch up with friends. What about you?”

  “I’ll be around. I may actually take a little break from gymnastics. Maybe even relax for a change.”

  “I’d love to see that!” He laughs loudly.

  “Hey, I can relax!” I swat his strong arm playfully, but quickly recoil.

  “I’m sure you can. Maybe I’ll be around to hang out sometime.”

  I cringe involuntarily.

  “Or not,” he says, seeing the look on my face. He sounds a little hurt.

  “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  “Trevor,” he interrupts, flatly.

  I nod meekly. The end of the school year is quickly approaching. I only have a few weeks left with Trevor before he graduates. He’s been accepted into his first choice school, The University of Georgia. He’ll even be playing lacrosse for them. Trevor and I haven’t talked much about what will happen with us when he leaves, mostly because we’re both so busy, but also, because Athens is less than two hours away, so neither of us has been overly concerned about our relationship changing too drastically. He’ll be home on weekends. And holidays. He’ll make time to see me, right?

  “Sydney,” Grant says in a much quieter, more serious tone than our conversation had been in up to this point. The way he breathes my name, with the tiniest bit of pain behind it makes my heart jump. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m here if you need anything.”

  “I know,” I say. Still, I stare down at my lap, unable to look up and meet his gaze. Finally, I peek out from under the protective cover of my hair. “How do you know when enough is enough?” My question is overly broad, but I know he’ll understand.

  He’s quiet for a while. Carefully crafting his response, as usual.

  “Well, I think everyone has their own limit, their own breaking point. Until someone reaches that limit on their own, no one can tell them what is right or wrong, or, what you asked, when enough is enough. They just have to figure it out for themselves.”

  He shrugs and I mull it over for a minute. I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking Grant, or even why. He senses that his answer isn’t enough for me.

  “You know, when I was a kid, my older brother and I used to wrestle a lot. We only had one rule when we did, and that was that we would stop and let the other go if they yelled ‘mercy’. He and I would both hold off saying it as long as we could. Even if the other had gotten out of hand and we were really hurting, we would wait until we absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore before we’d say mercy.” He’s smiling at the memory.

  “But if you’re asking what I think you are, I don’t think relationships should be like our wrestling matches. Relationships are supposed to make you happy, and bring something good to your life. When that stops, for me at least, then it’s time to think about moving on. It’s just my opinion, of course, but I think you should get out while you still have some peace of mind. Why stick around until you’re yelling mercy, you know?” He looks at me.

  “But what if you don’t have a breaking point?” I ask.

  “Everyone has a breaking point, Syd. Some people are just better at putting up with other peoples’ crap than most,” he says with a slight laugh, lightening the mood again.

  The rest of the ride back to school is filled with less serious topics. We pull into the school parking lot just as the final bell is ringing for the day. Grant turns to me again. His messy hair is falling in his face a little more than usual.

  “I don’t want to complicate your life, Sydney. But I do want to be your friend. I can keep my distance, if that’ll make things easier for you, but I really don’t want to go back to not even talking.”

  “I don’t want that either,” I admit. I’m not sure what the solution is for Grant and me, but I enjoyed our day together too much to go back to not speaking to him for Trevor’s sake.

  “Friends?” I ask.

  “Absolutely,” he says, with his absurdly handsome smile. But just as quickly as it crosses his face, it falls again.

  “What?” I ask. I’m totally lost as to why his demeanor has changed so quickly.

  “Syd, I have to tell you something.”

  “And I take it it’s bad?” I ask. Of course it is. Look at his expression.

  “The documentary. I know more than I let on. I mean, I knew about your mom. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

  My mind is spinning. My mom? How did he know? Why did he pretend not to? Things make even less sense than usual.

  “What? How could you know? Who told you?”

  The tendons in his neck flex as he swallows deeply.

  I’m shaking. What the hell is going on?

  “My mom is the producer of the show. I should’ve told you sooner, I know. I just didn’t want to weird you out or anything.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this now then? Because you feel guilty now that I told you all of my secrets?”

  He exhales sharply.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He reaches to touch me, but I flinch away. He’s left sitting there, staring at me, looking wounded as everyone else filters off of the bus.

  “It’s more than that. I know why they picked you. You said you had no clue why they’d want you for the show, but I know. They chose you because they didn’t think you could handle it. That the girl with the dead mom would crack under the pressure of it all. That you’d give them sweeps-worthy television.”

  I feel like I’m having a panic attack. Like I can’t take in enough breath. Like I’m drowning.

  “And all this time you knew?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “And what? You were in cahoots with them? Did you set out to cause trouble between me and Trevor to make good television? Is that why you kissed me? Is that why you’ve tried to turn my entire life upside down ever since we met? Was it all just to help their cause?”

  Everything is spinning. Blackness claws at my peripheral vision. Breathe, Syd. Breathe.

  “Of course not! That’s why I’m telling you now. I just want to be honest with you.”

  Silence. What more can we say. He’s kept this from me for months.

  “Back out of the show, Syd,” Grant finally says.

  “Are you crazy? I can’t do that. I signed a contract. And they’re paying me a lot of money.”

  “I’ll get you the money, Sydney. I’ll ask my mom for it. I’ll figure something out. Just back out. It’s going to be a smear fest.”

  I don’t know how to even begin to digest all of this. I just need him to go away. I need to be alone and try to figure out how I could have been so stupid to not figure all of this out before. Why did I think the producers would legitimately be interested in me? I just need Grant to leave.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I say coldly.


  Grant walks off the bus and toward his car without looking back.

  I need to do more of these, even if I know it’s already set up to make me look like a freak. Like a failure.

  I’m not going to give in that easy.

  “I can’t believe it’s finally here, but I’ll be flying to Nashville later this week for Nationals! All of these months of working and it’s all for this weekend. I’m really looking forward to getting out there and completing my routines and making my coach proud.” If I screw up, Sam is going to lose it. We’ve been training non-stop, there’s no excuse that’ll be good enough for me to walk away as anything but the winner. “School has been going well.” Grant and I make little more than small talk in class. It should feel better after his confession, knowing that I’m not the only one that’s been keeping a secret. But I can’t help but feel betrayed. It’s easier to pretend that entire conversation never happened. That Grant never confessed that he’s been keeping something so big from me. After all, who the heck am I to judge about keeping secrets? I’ll deal with it after Nationals. “But I’m looking forward to wrapping up this school year so that I’ll have a little break from both training and classes.” I’m exhausted.

  The week flies by at a record pace.

  Trevor and I are back to getting along as normally as we ever had. We’ve had a good, peaceful week, and I think I’ve almost gotten Dad convinced to let me go to the lake house with Trevor and his family.

  I can’t quite believe it, but Nationals are this weekend, so I take Thursday and Friday off of school and spend the entire day in gym. I’m completely exhausted from all the extra training and yet totally exhilarated. After all the weeks of hard work, I actually feel ready to go and take on the world.

  Sam and I fly to Nashville late Friday night, with Dad and Maisy due to arrive on Sunday in time for the afternoon competition. I find myself secretly wishing they weren’t coming at all. I know that makes me a terrible human being, but the added pressure of people in the audience makes everything even more nerve-wracking. I really don’t want to let anyone down.

  Somehow, I manage to keep my nerves in check and do well in preliminaries on Saturday. I’m even ranked third going into finals on Sunday. After an early morning workout, I walk back to the hotel to sneak in a cat nap. I dig my phone out of my gym bag and check my messages. There’s one from Trevor asking how things are going. I smile and send him a quick reply that everything is great and I’ll call him later. I set the alarm on my phone and curl up under the flimsy blanket. The room is pitch-black, thanks to the thick, canvas curtains, and I’d turned the air conditioning to its near arctic temperature. Those are all the things that should make it easy to drift off; still I doubt the nerves will allow it.

  I’m lying on the cream-colored sofa in Grant’s room, covered in that same comfortable quilt I’d been wrapped up in the night I was sick. Except this time, I’m not alone. Grant’s there, lying next to me, with that trademarked messy hair falling in his face. I look at him for a long time, trying to remember why I’m there. My heart is racing at the feeling of his strong arm, pulling me in close at my waist. The warmth and security of it all is intoxicating. His free hand brushes across my face.

  “I have to go,” I say. Knowing that whatever the reason for my being in his house, in his room more precisely, it isn’t a good enough one. I’m not even supposed to be talking to him, let along lying in his arms. Trevor will be furious. I have to leave.

  Still, looking into Grant’s safe eyes, I feel … conflicted.

  “Stay,” he whispers. He tenderly strokes my face and I can feel the goose bumps rise on my arms.

  “I can’t. I’m not supposed to be here,” I say, pulling away from him.

  He gently tugs me back down.

  “I don’t want you to leave, Syd.” He pushes his hair back out of his face, revealing the hurt in his eyes.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I admit. But still, I’m up, and my hand is lingering on the doorknob.

  “Then stay.”

  “But it’s so wrong for me to be here.”

  He’s next to me now. It makes it harder to protest with him so close.

  “Not if it’s what makes you happy,” he says. “Stay. Let me take care of you.”

  I crumble at the adoring look in his eyes. He can tell I’ve surrendered, because he scoops me up like a small child and carries me back to the couch. My pulse quickens. I can stay. He’ll take care of me. I literally feel like I’m shaking with delight

  Not shaking.

  Vibrating.

  It takes me a moment to realize I’ve fallen asleep with my phone still clutched in my hand. I don’t even check the caller id.

  “Hello?” my voices scratches out.

  “Sydney? Are you okay?” A voice of concern, just not the one I’d been dreaming about.

  “Trevor? Yeah, I’m fine. I just dozed off. Sorry.” I pull myself upright and sip a bottle of water, trying to cure my grogginess.

  “Okay. I just wanted to wish you luck, and tell you I love you.”

  Shame washes over me.

  “Thank you. I love you too. How are you?” I ask. I’m not ready to hang up now.

  “Good, just waiting for you to come home. I don’t like when you’re away from me.”

  “I miss you.” I mean it.

  “Miss you too, Syd. Hey, are you coming to the lake with us next weekend? I never got a straight answer from you.”

  I smile. He’s going to be thrilled.

  “Yeah, I am, actually. I can’t believe I’ve been so busy I forgot to tell you. I can’t stay Saturday night, though, it’s Maisy’s birthday. But Friday night, I’m all yours.”

  “That’s perfect,” he says. “I can’t wait to see you. Love you, baby.”

  We hang up and I toss the phone onto the nightstand and stretch. At the same moment, Sam pounds on the door to wake me up.

  The arena is too cold. I know I’ll be fine once I start moving around, but right now the frigid air isn’t helping my nerves. The feeling of elitism is practically visible in the air. Every gymnast here feels that they’re truly better than the one next to them, not just in the gym. It’s always harder on me to come in to finals near the top. There are more people watching you. It’s easier, for me at least, to come in from behind, where no one is expecting anything from you.

  Of course, the constant cameras trailing me don’t make blending into the background any easier. And, just like at school, I’m either scowled at, or people that generally don’t know I exist are now my best friends in order to cement their chance of being on TV.

  Vault is my first event, which in itself does a number on my stress level. I stand off to the side of the runway, waiting for my turn. I run through each movement of my vault in my head while my competitors go. The gymnast in front of me sits down her landing and I can’t help but cringe. It should be a relief to me that she’d done so poorly, but I feel bad. I know, just like everyone else in this arena, all of the hours that have gone into her making it here. To fall is such a huge blow to your confidence.

  I smile sympathetically as she passes me on my way up the short flight of steps to the vaulting runway. She glares back with stabby eyes. I’m taken aback by her wicked scowl and almost lose my footing on the padded steps. I grab at the railing, righting myself before I fall. I giggle to myself, thinking of the first day that I met Grant. I really need to stop thinking about him.

  I float gracefully to the end of the runway and stare at the vault. Running full speed at a stationary object has never been my favorite thing. You can do this, Sydney. You can do this. The judges raise the green flag and I throw my arms up to salute them.

  I bound toward the vaulting table. Hurdle. Round-off. My feet pound into the springboard. I throw my arms back. Back hand spring onto the vault. My fingertips press into the vault, as I push myself high into the air. Twisting. Once. Twice. Until I land, digging my feet firmly into the mat. I raise my arms above my head to
salute the judges. I scan the sideline for Sam. When I finally lay eyes on him, he’s beaming. One event down, three to go.

  I do reasonably well on balance beam and uneven bars. I’m glad we added the extra difficulty into my bar routine. Maybe I even hated the dismount a little less today. Maybe.

  I’m in second place as we head into the last rotation, floor exercise. As long as I don’t totally screw up, I really have a shot at winning this thing.

  The sound of my music drifts through the huge arena. My nerves are gone as I dance and tumble across the large mat. One final tumbling pass and I’ll be finished. I put every ounce of power into my last tumbling run.

  Too much power.

  I land perfectly, feet slamming into the mat.

  Out of bounds.

  My heart sinks as I watch the judge raise the red flag alerting everyone to my mistake. I finish the routine with a plastic smile and walk off the podium.

  Sam is upset. I don’t blame him. I didn’t spend all of this time and put in all of this work to lose with such a stupid mistake.

  When my score is revealed, Sam grimaces. I immediately think of Dad and Maisy up in the stands. I don’t bother looking for them. I don’t want to see the disappointment firsthand.

  Everyone else holds their own on floor. And when the competition is over, I still manage to medal. Just not the color I wanted. I stand on the lowest podium, the third place, bronze medal spot. Sam’s temper has cooled down. He says maybe next year will be my year. But my disappointment in myself doesn’t fade as quickly.

  We all fly home together. Even the camera crew assigned to me is on our flight. I close my eyes and pretend to sleep the entire way. No matter what I’ve done lately, it seems like everything I’ve tried so hard to keep together is falling apart.

  I want to be a good sister to Maisy and make up for my mom’s absence, but I’m failing miserably at that, she won’t even speak to me most days; I want to be a great gymnast, but I have trouble keeping my footing just walking up a couple of steps; I want to be an incredible girlfriend to Trevor, but I can’t make him happy and earlier today I was dreaming about some other guy that Trevor hates beyond words. I’m overwhelmed by the heaviness of it all.