Christina kept a brave face on, getting through the rest of her routine with only minor shakiness on one of her leaps and finishing with a relatively conservative double twist. That 9.5 was looking a little further out of reach.
“They can’t take more than one-tenth for that step, right?” I asked as we waited for her score. “That would be totally unfair.”
My gaze caught Jessie’s at that moment, and I quickly looked away. She was probably the last person who wanted to weigh in on what was fair, considering that this was supposed to be her competition, too. I wished I could’ve detected any forgiveness in those eyes, but I was too afraid of the alternative to look really closely.
They flashed her score, and we all cheered. Apparently, they’d seen her grace and beauty and knew that she deserved the 9.5.
Noelle and I grinned at each other, and I automatically smiled at Jessie before reality hit again with a thud. Christina was an Elite now, which meant that all of us were officially on the Elite team…except for Jessie. She would still train with us, but she was a Level Ten. There would always be two different competitions: one with the three of us, and one with just her.
“Jessie . . .”
But she shook her head, as if she didn’t want to hear it. Even though it was awesome that Christina and Noelle and I were cool now, I realized how much I missed having Jessie as my best friend in the group. Christina and Noelle were clearly tight—they were always going over to each other’s houses and giggling about something that had happened in school, since they were in the same grade. I had hoped that Jessie and I could’ve also been like that, but now it was too late.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked me in a low voice. “Outside?”
I nodded, trying not to get my hopes up. It was possible that Jessie wanted to have an I-will-always-hate-you-so-please-don’t-even-look-at-me kind of conversation, but as I excused myself from Noelle and my mom and followed Jessie down the bleachers, I tried to feel encouraged. At least she wanted to talk.
May in Texas was really hot, although there was a little breeze sometimes that shook some of the trees and provided relief. Jessie and I sat on a bench under one of those trees. I waited for her to speak.
“Noelle and Christina said you feel really guilty about what happened,” Jessie said.
So, they had talked to her. I’d wondered what they’d meant by “taking care of it.” One thing was for sure—I was glad they were on my side now.
“A part of me says that you should be,” Jessie continued. “I told you a lot of stuff I usually keep to myself, about my true feelings about the way I look and how inferior I feel to the rest of you guys in gymnastics. You all make it look so easy. Even though Christina has some trouble with the harder moves, she just looks so beautiful up there that of course the judges are going to give her high scores for her long lines.”
I tried to imagine how I would have felt if I had spilled all my secret fears—that I wouldn’t fit in anywhere, that I’d put my foot in my mouth so much that my only option was to become a mute, that my mother would see some adorable little three-year-old orphan at her day care and think, Hey, this one’s cuter than the one I’ve got at home, and better behaved, too. If I’d told that to Jessie and she’d blabbed about it during a game of Truth or Dare, I’d probably have been pretty mad, too.
“I really trusted you,” Jessie said. “And I feel like you betrayed that.”
If anyone had tried to stand between me and my gymnastics by going behind my back and talking to my coaches, I’d have been livid. I would’ve thrown a huge tantrum in the middle of the gym and accused everyone of conspiring against me. I definitely wouldn’t have quietly packed my stuff and left, the way Jessie did.
I would have hoped that I had friends who cared enough about me to stand up and say something if they thought I was hurting myself. I wanted to say that in my defense, but I sensed that Jessie wasn’t finished yet.
“I just wish maybe at the very least you’d talked to me about the whole thing,” she said, “instead of talking to other people.”
She was right. I could see that now. But at the time, it had seemed as if Jessie was in such denial about herself that I couldn’t trust her to actually listen to anything I said. Still, I realized that I should’ve given her the chance, so that when I did go to Mo and the other girls, at least I’d allowed her to handle it herself first.
“You said a part of you thinks I should feel guilty,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. I couldn’t look Jessie in the eyes as I traced the diamond-wire pattern of the bench with my finger. “What about the other part?”
“The other part of me knows you did the right thing.”
I did look at Jessie then, and I felt like I was seeing my old friend. She gave me a small smile. “I still don’t think I have anorexia or something, like this woman my parents are taking me to seems to think. She’s a psychologist, and I have to talk to her once a week now, to make sure I’m not falling back into my pattern of ‘irrational thoughts.’”
She noticed my confused look and laughed. “That’s what they call it when you think you’re really fat but you’re not, and you think everyone’s judging you but they’re not. She thinks I’m my own worst enemy.”
Sometimes, I thought, we were all our own worst enemies. That sounds superdeep, I know, but it’s true. Christina lets her own fear stand in her way, Noelle worries about everything, Jessie feels insecure, and I…well, I’m insecure, too, I guess. I think that people won’t like me, so I decide to do outrageous things that will make them notice me, even though I know as I’m doing them that I’m only making it worse.
Wow. It was like I was having a minibreakthrough, and I wasn’t even paying anyone to tell me this kind of stuff.
“Anyway,” Jessie went on, “I know things got out of control. Somehow, I just told myself, if you lose all this weight by the qualifier, you’ll win. And then that number started getting bigger and bigger.”
“I’m sorry that I messed up the qualifier for you,” I said. “Now you’ll have to wait for the next one.”
Jessie shrugged. “I wasn’t ready. If I had competed today and lost, I would’ve crawled into a hole. It’s better that I take some extra time for myself before I have to worry about something so huge.”
“You are coming back to practice, though, right? We’ve missed you.”
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me,” she said.
“So, what are you doing this summer?” I asked. “School gets out soon, huh?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Jessie grinned at me. “Gym, gym, and more gym. But we always make some time to have fun, too. Once a summer, Mrs. Flores usually takes us all to the beach. And there’s a carnival that comes to town.”
“That sounds fun.” I thought wistfully of the carnival back home in Ohio, where the Ferris wheel was so old that it just had those little benches with a single metal rod to hold you in place. I used to love to go on it with Dionne and shake the bench, just to mess with her. But then one time she threw up all over me, so I guess I learned my lesson.
“And my mom was so happy you helped me with my algebra homework, you’re welcome over anytime.” Jessie looked down at her hands. Her fingers were entwined with the diamond cutouts, although I noticed that she didn’t go past the first knuckle. That was a good thing. I’d gotten my fingers stuck in those holes before. “We’re still—”
The door opened, and Noelle and Christina walked cautiously toward us, as though making sure that we weren’t about to gouge each other’s eyes out or something, with them caught in the middle. Christina had her gym bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing her nylon jacket and pants over her leotard.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“What’s up?” Jessie repeated incredulously. “What’s up? You’re an Elite gymnast now, that’s what’s up!”
Christina flushed. “I didn’t want to say anything, but . . .” She let out a big whoop, pumping her fist in the air like she
was that boxer Rocky, who always seemed like he was down but then always came through in the end.
“We’re walking over to the awards now,” Noelle said. “You guys want to come?” She glanced from Jessie to me, as if trying to gauge what had gone down between us.
I smiled at Jessie to show that we were cool, and she put her arm around me. “We’re down,” she said. “As long as it’s not one of those where they give ribbons out to, like, sixteenth place.”
“It’s not,” Christina promised.
“And if it is, you won’t have to stick around that long,” Noelle pointed out. “We’ll just grab Christina’s gold medal and head out to lunch!”
“Gold? That’s awesome!” I knew Christina had scored high enough to qualify for Elite, but I hadn’t known she’d gotten the all-around gold, too.
We walked to the building where they were holding the awards ceremony, which I knew would be all decked out in balloons and crepe paper. You’d think they’d figure out a way to decorate these things other than like a birthday party, but whatever.
“I was telling Britt about our summer plans,” Jessie said. “The beach, and the carnival . . .”
“Oh, God, the carnival!” Christina laughed. “Don’t eat the Elephant Ears. Seriously, they’re so greasy they’ll make your stomach hurt for days.”
“Is the Ferris wheel one of those old kinds, with the benches?” I asked.
Noelle frowned. “I can’t remember. Why?”
“Oh, no reason . . .” I said. I probably wouldn’t play that trick on them, because I felt like I knew better now than to do that. I was able to put myself in their shoes and to realize that sometimes being scared wasn’t fun. Before, I would’ve just assumed that everyone liked to be teased. But now I knew that part of being friends was knowing the limits, and knowing when to be serious and when to let loose.
As we walked side by side, feeling the breeze on our faces and knowing that we had an afternoon of celebratory lunch and postcompetition high to enjoy before starting another week of bone-pounding practice, we were definitely more than just teammates.
We were friends.
aerial: A cartwheel done without the use of hands for support on the floor
arabesque: A dance element in which one leg is on the floor and one leg lifted backward toward the ceiling to form an extended line
beam: A horizontal, raised apparatus that is four inches wide, sixteen feet in length, and approximately four feet off the floor; on this, gymnasts perform a series of dance moves and acrobatic skills.
blind landing: A landing in which the gymnast ends up facing forward, sometimes away from the apparatus, and she cannot see the floor before landing
difficulty level: A way of measuring what a skill is worth in the gymnastics code of points, or how hard a skill is to execute
floor: A carpeted surface measuring forty feet square, over springs and wooden boards. Also the term for the only event in which a gymnast performs a routine set to music; the routine is ninety seconds in length, and composed of dance and acrobatic elements.
full-in: Two flips in the air with the first flip featuring a 360-degree twist
full turn: A 360-degree turn on one leg, performed on floor and beam
grips: Strips of leather placed on a gymnast’s hand to prevent calluses and allow for a better grip on the uneven bars
handspring: A move in which a gymnast starts on both feet, jumps to a position supporting her body with just her two hands on the floor, and then pushes off to land on her feet again. This can be done forward or backward, and is typically used to start or connect an acrobatic series.
Junior Elite: The level before Senior Elite, as designated by regulations of the governing body of gymnastics. Junior Elite gymnasts are not allowed to compete in the Olympics.
layout: A maneuver completed in the air with hands held against the body and a pencil-straight overall position; flipping can be forward or backward, and the move ends with the gymnast standing on both feet again.
pike: A position in which the body is bent double at the hips, with legs straight and toes pointed
press handstand: A move beginning on the floor with legs in a straddle position and all of the weight on the hands. The entire body is raised over the head and moves from a straddle position into a straight-body handstand.
punch front: A jump from a position on both feet into a forward-flipping somersault in which the gymnast lands again on both feet, still facing forward
round-off: A move that begins like a cartwheel, but in which the legs swing together overhead, and the gymnast finishes facing in the opposite direction
scale: A position in which one leg is raised high into the air while the other leg is firmly planted on the ground. Ideally, this position ends in a 180-degree vertical split.
Senior Elite: The level after Junior Elite, as designated by regulations of the governing body of gymnasts. In women’s artistic gymnastics, a gymnast must be turning sixteen years of age within the calendar year during which the competition takes place to become a Senior Elite.
sheep jump: A move in which the gymnast jumps into the air, throws her head back until it touches her feet for a split second, and then returns to a straight-body position to land on both feet
split: A position in which one leg is stretched in front of the body and the other behind
standing full twist: A move that begins in a stationary position on both feet, followed by a jump into a flip with a 360-degree twist in the air (usually in a tucked position with legs bent at a ninety-degree angle) before a landing on both feet. Typically, this move is completed on floor or beam.
straddle: A position in which the right leg is stretched out to the right side of the body and the left leg is stretched out to the left, as the gymnast faces forward
stuck dismount: A move in which a gymnast executes a landing with both feet firmly planted on the ground and no wobbling occurs.
tuck: A position in which the knees are folded in toward the chest at a ninety-degree angle, with the waist bent, creating the shape of a ball
tumbling passes: A series of connected acrobatic moves required in a floor-exercise routine
uneven bars: (often, just “bars”) One of four apparatuses in women’s artistic gymnastics. Bars features the apparatus on which women perform mostly using their upper-body strength. This event consists of two rails placed at an uneven level; one bar acts as the high bar and the other as the low bar. Both bars are flexible, helping the gymnast to connect skills from one to the other.
vault: A runway of approximately eighty feet in length, leading to the springboard and a padded table at one end. The gymnast runs full speed toward the table, using the springboard to launch herself onto it; she then pushes off with her hands, moving into a series of flips and/or twists before landing on the mat behind the table.
Yurchenko vault: A vaulting move that begins with a round-off onto the springboard, followed by a back handspring onto the table; the gymnast then pushes off into a series of flips and/or twists before landing on the mat. This style of vault was named after Soviet gymnast Natalia Yurchenko.
Ever since Mr. Van Buren had used the term muscle memory in science class, I’d been obsessed with the idea. The concept wasn’t new to me, but now I had a name for it. I’d been doing gymnastics practically since I could walk, so it was easy to believe that there were memories buried deep in the muscles of my legs and feet that were way older than the memory of the first time I ate watermelon, or saw the ocean.
Now, standing at the very corner of the floor mat on my tiptoes, ready to launch into a tumbling pass, it wasn’t like I had time to consider all of the philosophical implications of this idea. But that was the whole point of muscle memory—I didn’t have to think. It was just there, in the flex of my ankles, the texture of the mat under the balls of my feet as I sprang into a run across the floor, the stretch of my calves as I kick-started the momentum that would carry me flipping from one end of the mat
to the other. When I landed my double pike, my feet planted firmly and my hips square with my shoulders, it was like déjà vu. My body had been in this exact position so many times that I lay in bed at night and re-created it, until it was almost like I fell asleep flipping.
Cheng nodded his head and twirled his finger, his signal for again. With Cheng, you learned that this was all you were going to get. He was not the most vocal of coaches, and would never be the one to sweep you up in a bear hug on national television and scream, “You did it! You did it!” but he showed his satisfaction in other ways. Mostly, it was by telling you to keep working.
“Man,” Britt said, rubbing chalk on the bottoms of her feet as she joined me at the corner of the floor. “Hasn’t he heard of the Thirteenth Amendment? I’m pretty sure it abolished slavery.”
I smiled just enough to let Britt know I’d heard her, but not so much that it might have looked like I was participating in the conversation. Britt was the newest gymnast at Texas Twisters, and when she first got there, she had made a lot of waves because of how outspoken she was. She worked harder than she let on, and she was more determined now than she used to be, but sometimes she still joked around. It could be fun, but pretty much the only thing that scared me more than spiders was getting into trouble, so I tried not to give the coaches any reason to call me out.
Christina had been stretching on the side, but came over to line up behind Britt. “It can’t be slavery if you’re paying to be here,” she said, rolling her eyes.
I preferred to avoid thinking about the dollars adding up and multiplying for every day that I trained at Texas Twisters. My parents never talked about how much it cost, exactly, but I knew being an Elite gymnast was not cheap.
“Noelle,” Christina said, jabbing me in the shoulder, “are you going to go, or what?”
I blinked, realizing that somehow I’d allowed myself to get distracted, when that was the last thing I should have been doing as the competitive season started. Squaring myself up on a corner of the blue mat, I took another deep breath and allowed muscle memory to take over.
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