The Accident

by Devyn Forrest

  “Chloe isn’t used to that kind of attitude,” Clinton affirmed. “Sure, she can be sassy at practice, but when this little southern girl pointed at Chloe and decided she basically wanted to murder her… I was like…”

  “I beat her anyway,” Chloe chimed in. She beamed and snuck another huge bite of pizza between her lips. Grease flickered across her chin. “If she thought that talking shit about me was going to have any effect, she was clearly wrong… I mean, I’ve seen the way Poppy treats Rooney. This was basically kindergarten bullshit in comparison.” She paused and said, “No offense, Roon.”

  “I haven’t seen much of Poppy since we got here,” I returned. I glanced around at the many tables in the dining area, and couldn’t catch sight of her anywhere.

  “She’s probably off somewhere writing out the steps of your murder and how to get away with it,” Clinton smirked. “The perfect crime.”

  Chloe decided to stay up with a few of the other swimmers, and I had heard that Clinton had somehow procured booze for them—but the rest of us needed a good night’s sleep. I slipped beneath the smooth sheets of the hotel bed and blinked at the ceiling. I felt in relative shock. I wondered where my father was that night, whether or not he wanted to reach out to me or say something.

  I lay there and couldn’t stop thinking. Zelda Parkington. She was our ghost. And I had delivered his dead wife’s name, right there in a location he had probably assumed would always be safe—a school he had started when his plan was to never look back and start fresh, without his first child.

  When we reached the gymnastics auditorium the next morning, I felt like a soldier reporting for duty. My eyes focused straight ahead, my muscles tense and my back straight. I was ready. The locker room was empty when I donned my performance uniform, something I’d had to purchase with Mr. Everton’s money. When I tapped out into the hall, I was surprised to see Mr. Everton himself. He stalked toward me, his blonde hair wafting back and his grin enormous. As he grew closer, he looked even more haggard, with big thick circles beneath his eyes.

  “Rooney!” he cried out. He sped up a bit, although it looked like it might kill him to move so quickly. He huffed when he got to me and said, “God. I just had the wildest night.”

  Admittedly, he reeked of booze, of whiskey. I frowned and lifted my chin. He gripped his knees for a moment before he reared back and gazed at me. “I heard that you ran into your dad.”

  I swallowed as I looked at him. I felt like I had just taken a bullet.

  “I can tell by how pale you are that it’s true,” he returned. “He showed up at my hotel room last night, drunk—drunker than I had ever seen him when we were in our early twenties. He told me what happened. That he had seen a girl who looked just like Zelda, and she had actually said her name. Zelda Parkington! I can’t believe you did that, Rooney. But, I would say it’s valid. The bastard left you. He deserves a minor heart attack.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stuttered a little, but I allowed him to continue.

  “Anyway, he dragged me out drinking with him—which is why I look like this,” Mr. Everton said. He gestured down at his clothes, which he had clearly worn the day before. “And he came directly here to oversee the event. He said he would call in an understudy to judge since he didn’t think he could do it. The man was out of his mind, wasted and Rooney, he said he’s thought about you every single day.”

  This was too much. I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my weight to the side. “Fuck that,” I said. It wasn’t like me to curse in front of an adult, but I was overwhelmed with anger.

  Mr. Everton’s face crumpled. “I know you must think that. How else would you feel? He just left you there like that and it’s…”

  “I don’t care. I don’t know.” I felt panicked, and my heart picked up its pace and thudded harder in my chest. “I have to go to the mat. I’ll see you later, Mr. Everton.”

  I didn’t want to know what else Rudy Eyser had told him. I didn’t want to hear about his love for his family or all his regrets. I just wanted to perform. I strutted out onto the blue mat and stood next to Poppy, Mallory, Coach Jeremy and Coach Jonathon, as the day’s order of performances were announced. Mallory squeezed my hand and gave me an expression of pure terror. Although we had never really gotten along, we were soldiers in this war together, now.

  The line-up was announced. Mallory was first, out of everyone, and then there were a few others from elsewhere, followed by Poppy, then two others, then me. The feel of all this time between now and my performance was dreadful. It felt like facing the gap at the Grand Canyon. How could you even imagine finding yourself on the other side?

  The first round was the balance beam. After that, we performed again on the mat. I glanced up at the judges’ box, where three grey-haired men who surely couldn’t perform a double-back-flip or even stand erect on a balance beam any longer, had our lives in their hands. Mallory sauntered to the balance beam after they called her name, and I held my breath as she performed. It wasn’t a stellar performance, and she didn’t have the skills to get the really hefty points, but when she leaped off the beam and landed, she looked thrilled with herself, with what she had accomplished out there. I was really happy for her. The hug we shared when she dropped off the mat was perhaps the only one we had ever had. Maybe it would be our only one.

  Poppy’s performance left the entire auditorium breathless. I had flashbacks about the mid-semester competition when she had gone first and then I followed after—which had left her enough time to ask for the balance beam to be replaced. Now, she placed her feet atop the balance beam with precision, drew her arms back like a butterfly, and tapped her toes like the world’s most delicate ballerina. When she landed, the crowd erupted, and she hopped around and beamed at them with her hand outstretched and her chest tipped up.

  Fuck, that was perfect.

  I couldn’t help it. Wave after wave of jealousy hit me. I wasn’t sure I could do as well as she had. She leaped up and hugged Coach Jeremy, but his face was difficult to read. It was stone-like and held no expression. Seconds after she left the mat, he beckoned her with him into the locker room. I tilted my head and again felt an overwhelming sense that something was very off.

  I wasn’t set to perform for another ten minutes. I glanced around, spotted Coach Jonathon in the midst of lecturing Mallory, and snuck off after Coach Jeremy and Poppy. My heart hammered in my throat. The girl after Poppy hopped onto the balance beam, but the crowd still seemed struck with Poppy. I pitied her.

  When I reached the locker room, I pressed my ear against the door to listen to what happened beyond. Jeremy seemed to hiss something. Poppy screeched something back. The general aura wasn’t one of happiness or celebration. Slowly, I inched the door open, so that the hinges didn’t screech. With just my ear in the crack, I heard Jeremy.

  “Baby, you did the best you could, but you know you can do better. You know you didn’t leave it all out there. We’ve worked so hard for this, baby. Come here…”

  “I really… Please… Don’t….” This was Poppy, who sounded like a lost child, rather than the volatile creature who was much more apt to destroy than to lean down and cower.

  What the hell was going on?

  I gave up on all concept of air, of breath. I lurched open the door as quickly as I could. Coach Jeremy seemed to spring back away from Poppy, who was pressed up against the locker. Her face twisted with anger. Coach Jeremy tugged at his hair and sauntered away from Poppy and his eyes tore through me.

  “Rooney. Aren’t you supposed to be stretching? You go on in like five minutes.”

  I gave him a stoic, firm look. I wanted him to know that I knew exactly what he was up to—that I wasn’t someone to fuck around with. I set my jaw and said, “I think you should probably leave the girl’s locker room. I have to pee.”

  Jeremy’s eyes locked with mine before he spoke again. His voice instantly changed. “Of course, I’ll leave you girls alone. Poppy, again, congratulations. Yo
u really left it out there on the mat.”

  I remained in place until Jeremy whipped the door closed. With my hands in fists, I stared at Poppy and stammered, “What the hell, Poppy? What was he doing to you?”

  Poppy rolled her eyes. “You’re so fucking naive, Rooney.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Naive is what I said. Just now losing your virginity? At seventeen? Jesus Christ. It’s like you haven’t lived at all.”

  Just seventeen? I hadn’t even kissed anyone before coming to Denver Athletics.

  Maybe she could smell it on me.

  “What he’s doing to you. All the yelling at you and calling you baby and…”

  Poppy’s head snapped around. Her eyes glittered with tears. “Rooney. Don’t you know already? Don’t you know that we do what we can to get through this career and then… only then… do we have enough time and space for the therapy to keep us alive afterward? Huh? After we get all the awards and money and people scream our names. At least, that’s what I tell myself, so I can sleep at night. You should, too. God knows I’ve put you through enough.”

  “Poppy, we have to tell someone what he’s doing. It’s not right,” I spat.

  Poppy ripped toward me, with all the ferocity of a saber tooth tiger. Her hand caught around my neck. But I was too volatile, too tired of her shit. I thrust at her chest, and she whipped back and nearly caught her head on an iron pole near the lockers. She staggered back and fell lightly on her ass. In her gymnastics performance uniform, sitting there on the ground, she looked like a doll that had been left out in the rain.

  “Fuck you,” she muttered as fresh tears swam down her cheeks.

  She’s more lost than you are.

  I really believed it. But as I blinked down at her, unsure of what to do next, I heard Coach Jonathon howling my name outside. I bucked around and hustled out into the overly bright lights of the gym. When I reached him, Coach Jonathon looked like his head might pop off with anger.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. “You go on in three minutes.” He reached up and touched my overly-tight shoulder, but I reared back, conscious of Jeremy, of all the creatures in this horrific universe that might not have our best interests at heart.

  “You just look really would up is all,” Jonathon returned.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered.

  But in truth, I wasn’t. I wasn’t fine at all.

  Jonathon furrowed his brows. “All right. Well. Go out there and do your thing. Do the best you can. I know you’ll crush it.”

  “Thanks and I will,” I said as I shook out my arms to loosen my nerves.

  They announced my name. I felt like time had stopped and stood still. I felt like I was sleepwalking as I sauntered out on the mat. I could feel my father’s eyes upon me, only one day after he had learned that I was there.

  As usual, when it came time to perform, I became so focused on the task at hand that I blacked out. During my entire performance, I did feel a bit too tight, a bit like a piece of cardboard tossed through the air. When it came to an end, I finally landed on my feet with my arms spread out like wings and my chest heaving. I gave a false smile to the crowd and felt how lackluster their cheers were. Compared to Poppy, I hadn’t done anything at all.

  I saw it in Coach Jonathon’s eyes, too. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and said, “Good job,” but there was no meaning to his words. They were hollow and flat. I hustled to the locker room yet again, thrust myself over the toilet, and then vomited hard—just a few chunks of whatever bullshit I had allowed myself for breakfast. I closed my eyes and fell to the floor. My heart pounded, and I felt it all through my belly, against my ears, down through my toes. I had completely fucked up.

  And maybe my Olympic team-status was now at stake.

  It’s all Poppy’s fault.

  I wanted to blame her. But in truth, it really wasn’t her fault. The cards had fallen really fucking strangely. There was no rhyme or reason, in any of this that I should have even been thrown in the system when I had a perfectly capable father to take care of me—except for a slight mutation in Zelda Parkington’s cells, which had led to her cancer diagnosis and subsequent death. But Rudy Eyser had decided that that was enough of a reason to abandon me in Denver, Colorado, and come build a new life here in fucking Seattle.

  And then there was Poppy to consider.

  It was all too much.

  I leaned my head against the cold porcelain as a tear rolled down my cheek. I almost felt like I needed to just crawl in a hole and stay there for the night. I just wanted to get the fuck out of Seattle and never look back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The awards ceremony was held just after one in the afternoon, to give time for the runners later that day. The volleyball players were meant to have their games on Sunday, which meant that we would fly back to Denver on Monday. I stood in my performance outfit, the smell of vomit freshly scrubbed from my tongue and teeth. Poppy and Mallory stood on either side of me and the other teams from across the country stood in their own individual lines across the blue mat. We all faced the judges, along with some five hundred onlookers, an audience who had roared with more passion for Poppy than I had ever heard.

  She would be their champion.

  “Everyone, quiet down, please,” the announcer called. His voice was thick, heavy like molasses. “I have the results for today’s National Championships for the Women’s Round of Gymnastics. In fourth place, coming all the way from New Mexico, is—Olivia Conner!”

  The red-headed Olivia Conner hopped up toward the podium box, where a man with broad shoulders passed her a small-sized medal and she waved it at the crowd. She stood beside the box, which read one, two, and three slots for only the bronze and silver and gold.

  “Now, in third place, all the way from sunny California is—Alice Jones!”

  Alice Jones led up from another team. Her blonde ponytail was light and thin and her body sprung out like a deer’s. She cut her head forward, and the man slid the medal over her neck. She gave a final wave and smiled at the crowd.

  I felt Poppy stiffen beside me. I hadn’t bothered to watch anyone else, not even through the floor routines. I had just popped out, performed and then hid back in the locker room, which meant I had very little idea of what would happen next. There was a huge possibility that I would just be written-off in the gymnastics books— somewhere in sixth or seventh place, or even worse. Coach Jonathon would probably find a way to get me kicked out of school. I would never be able to face him again.

  “Now. In second place, all the way from Denver, Colorado…”

  I swear, at that moment, my heart bottomed into the darkness of my belly. I caved into myself. It could have been either of us. But seconds later, he barreled forward and boomed out, “Rooney Calloway!”

  God. Dammit. I shot forward and smeared a friendly smile across my face. I bounced up to the podium and bent forward and felt the heavy silver medal dip across my chest. In a million different ways, I wanted to die there in front of all those people. But instead, my grin was frozen. I stepped up onto the number two slot and waited. A hush overtook the enormous room.

  “Now, it’s the award you’ve all been waiting for. Again, from Denver, Colorado… the gymnast who gave us all the most stunning performance this announcer has ever seen in this venue is Poppy Binford!”

  I didn’t blink. The crowd screeched and howled, as Poppy sprung up to receive her gold medal and leap up onto the first-place podium. She beamed at the crowd and waved with a flat hand. Down below, off to the left, I saw Coach Jeremy rip his fist through the air, a look of confidence, of pompousness, etched across his forehead and his eyes.

  Fuck you. Everyone will know what you did.

  But what does it matter now?

  Just as I had on the mat, on the balance beam, I kind of blacked-out for a second, after I hobbled off the podium, somebody passed me a bouquet of flowers. I walked slowly, on weak legs, out of th
e auditorium and into the lobby. The flowers were almost too fragrant, and they filled my nose and made me cough. I stopped when Poppy stopped, and twelve or thirteen photographers flashed their cameras at us. I stepped to the side to see her smile, which was radiant. She looked like a prom queen or a Barbie. The girl you were meant to take home to your mother. She was a champion, and dammit, she had beaten me fair and square.

  After all the shit she had done. After all the bullshit she had put me through. And she had still beat me on the mat.

  “What’s next for you, Poppy?” a journalist asked from behind the camera. “Do you have your eyes on the Olympics?”

  Poppy smiled graciously. “There’s a lot of work before then, but I do. I want it so badly. See you in Paris.”

  There was a hand on my shoulder, and it yanked me back to the belly of the crowd behind me. I turned quickly to find the red-tinged eyes of Rudy Eyser. He gripped my lower arm almost too hard, and his hands were rugged like he had recently chopped a tree or dug a ditch. I walked quickly and felt like I was in a nightmare. He brought me into a small office near the locker rooms, with large posters of the various athletes.