by Lucia Franco
My bars routine wasn’t as intense as the other three girls who went before me. I guess it wasn’t supposed to be since I was a lower level, however, I became consciously aware I was behind. I didn’t have an early start in the sport like most did who were elite. Although I was young when I began recreational gymnastics, I was almost ten years old when I joined the girl’s team and officially began rigorous training.
There was a difference between recreational classes and team classes. Both were taught the same skills, but team trained more hours a week and focused on the smallest of details. In the end, those details could make or break you. There was commitment and motivation involved, too. Not just from the gymnasts, but from the parents as well. The financing, traveling, and attitude were brutal. Team was much more grueling but also very rewarding.
I performed my routine a handful of times more before I mustered the nerve to ask Coach to watch. It wasn’t my best practice—I could tell by my jittery movements and racing heart, that had nothing to do with my actual routine and everything to do with the intimidating Russian and three hours of sleep. I felt like I was competing for a spot on the US World team and everything relied heavily on this moment.
This was my chance to prove I was ready for elite.
Konstantin stood there near the side of the bars, his eyes trained solely on me, and showing no emotion at all. I thought for sure I was about to be sick. It was a blank stare, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d rather that or to see his face fall. My heart was in my throat and all the noise faded away.
Shit. I was so nervous.
A bars routine can last anywhere from thirty to forty-five seconds, mine was thirty-six, and that was simply because of my level and what I was capable of doing. A great deal of training and conditioning went into a bar routine. Most people never realized how short they actually were. After being captivated by jaw dropping release skills and eye-popping combination sequences, it was easy to forget it wasn’t even one-minute long.
As I performed my routine, it felt like an eternity of wishing and praying I’d catch the bar, hit my handstands, legs together, and didn’t wobble or bend my arms. I mentally chanted to myself, I got this, repeatedly with every little element before the dismount happened.
“Once more,” he ordered before I could catch my breath. After I chalked up my grips and did my routine again, he dipped his chin and said, “When you get to vault, follow the same instructions,” and then walked off. I had no idea if I did well or not, and there was no gauging his thoughts either. He was like a slab of concrete.
“Don’t stress—he’s always like that.” I looked over at the voice beside me. “You’ll never know what he’s thinking no matter how hard you try. I swear, it’s his goal to make you feel like you suck at life.” I breathed a sigh of relief knowing it wasn’t just me. “I’m Holly, by the way.”
I smiled politely. Hayden’s twin. “Adrianna. And thanks for the heads up. It doesn’t help that I’m nervous as it is, but the way he acts puts me on edge.”
“Oh, that’s how he normally is. You’ll get use to it, we all have.”
Note to self: His default personality is dick. Got it.
“Hopefully it doesn’t take long. He made me feel like it was the sloppiest routine ever.”
Holly laughed. “We all went through it and had the same sentiments. Kova has a keen eye, so while there were probably things you did mess up on, he can spot talent through it.”
“Why do you call him Kova? I thought his name was Konstantin.”
She shrugged. “It’s just what he goes by. None of us call him by his real name.”
Interesting.
“Are you from here?” I asked curiously.
She nodded. “I’ve been with World Cup for years. We used to live here, but my dad was offered a job in Ohio he couldn’t refuse. He bought a small townhouse and moved there while my mom, Hayden, and I stayed back so we could train with Kova. My mom left once we hit sixteen though, because she missed him a lot. She was nervous to leave us, but luckily we have friends and family nearby if we need anything.”
I knew in the general public it was absurd for parents to allow their children to train alone at such a young age. It wasn’t uncommon for us to go to summer training camp in Texas for three months alone, or to train long hours in the gym without any parental supervision. The gym became our second home. The coaches were extremely close to the parents, which put them at ease when it came time to leave their kids. Plus, we were never completely alone, there was always an adult around, a friend or a mom to help out. While we thought nothing of it, to the outside world, I was sure it looked like neglect.
“How old are you?”
She tightened her wristband, her eyes focused on the movement of her fingers. “Almost seventeen.”
“Oh—” My voice heightened. “Wow. So you’ve been here for a year on your own?”
An innocent smile spread across her baby face as she looked back up at me. “I know it’s crazy being away from family, and hard at times, but you get used to it. Luckily, they understand our love of the sport and allowed us to stay. But it doesn’t come easy. My parents still live in the townhouse in Ohio and took out a second mortgage so we can continue to train and compete here.
“Last year we had a girl, Sage, she was incredible, better than all of us and had future Olympian written all over her. Her form was impeccable and she was only nine years old. We used to watch her in awe, but unfortunately, her parents couldn’t afford to live in two different places anymore. She has an older brother and it wasn’t fair to him, so they packed up and went home to Washington. She cried, we all did. Seeing that made me realize how fortunate I am to be here. I don’t know if she’s training anymore though...hopefully she is. She was too good not to.”
“Holly. You are up,” Coach announced.
Holly smiled brightly. “See you later...and good luck.”
While Holly geared up, I stripped the grips from my wrists and made my way to vault where a pair of brown eyes stood watching.
“Hey, Reagan,” I said, being friendly. I was looking forward to making team friends.
She turned to me, paused, then said, “Hey.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I got the impression she wasn’t a fan of me being here, which kind of bothered me. Team girls were just that—a unified team. We worked together, were like sisters, and usually had an unbreakable bond. I had a good team of girls back home who supported each other to the end, so I expected to have the same here.
“How long have you been on the team?”
“I’ve been with World Cup since I could walk,” she responded hastily without picking her head up from the chalk bowl. “My family is actually from Cape Coral. I’m not a transfer.”
Then she gave me her back and geared up to take her vault. I watched as Reagan performed an Amanar, landing almost perfectly without the slightest movement, not even a balance check. My eyebrows hit my hairline over her nearly perfect vault. Knowing I was next, I looked around for Kova to see where he was and noticed his eyes trained on her. Holy hell...there was a smile on his face. I mean, there should’ve been with that vault, but he didn’t seem like the type to ever crack a grin. Reagan beamed at him and walked to the end of the vault runway with confidence in her stride.
I’d been practicing a double-twisting Yurchenko. Unfortunately, I almost always took a step once I landed, which earned me deductions. Most gymnasts took a step or a hop. It was hard not to with all the power and momentum forcefully flying out of us.
My best bet would be to work on my alternate vault, but I wasn’t crazy about anything front flipping, so I avoided them as much as possible. I wasn’t a lazy gymnast, they just made me uneasy turning in the air in that direction. Not to mention, a blind landing was risky because I didn’t want to hyperextend my knees.
But with that bizarre conditioning of bouncing on your knees Coach had us doing earlier, I was almost positive I was training my knees for hyperextension a
nyway.
“That was incredible!” I said to her excitedly. While it was becoming more popular, an Amanar was one of the hardest vaults in the world for women to get right. It required blocking really hard by pushing off the vault table with your shoulders and keeping your arms straight.
“I know.”
My mom would’ve slapped my face if that had been my response.
“How long have you been practicing it?” Even with her nasty attitude, I was genuinely curious.
She shrugged, not making eye contact. “Not very long. It was easy for me, actually. None of the other girls can stick it like I can,” she said smugly. “Kova said my vault will help my all-around and boost my score.”
Wow. I didn’t want to know if she was capable of becoming any more pretentious.
“Well, that’s fabulous for the team. I’m sure the girls are grateful for your capability, seeing as you think they’re lacking.” I couldn’t help it, I had to get in a little jab. Growing up in Palm Beach, I really disliked snotty girls, and I could tell Reagan was just that. So I knew how to get in and get out with a plastic smile.
I made my way to the runway and performed a one and a half Yurchenko, instead of a double. I wanted to impress and went with a clean landing, so I played it safe. The key was to start with a high-tall hurdle with my chest up, then round-off, and drive my arms back into the vault to execute a big, powerful block. Then kick my legs together and scoop my toes, squeezing my butt and using my abs to drive momentum to follow with a tight twist. Spotting my landing, I drove my heels into the ground.
Once I landed with a hop, Kova swirled his finger around for me to do it again. This time, I landed with a huge hop from too much power and I grimaced, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew I screwed up and he caught it.
Opening my eyes, I looked at Kova who stared me down without any emotion on his face. He said nothing, so I opted to speak.
“Shall I do it again?”
“Can you do any other vault?”
I bit the inside of my lip. “I can do a double Yurchenko. It needs a little work, but I can try it.”
“Are you going to injure yourself trying it?”
“No.” I could do a double, but I was too nervous to so I did the one and a half.
“It is something you have done before?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it. Reagan!” he yelled. “Let Adrianna go again real quick.”
Reagan made an audible grunting sound, so I apologized to her. The quickest way to make friends was not having the coach ordering me to cut in rotation.
I chalked up my feet and then took a deep breath, shaking out my hands.
I could do this...I could do this...
I snuck a quick glance at Kova, who stood with his arms crossed in front of his wide chest across from the vault. Rising up on my tiptoes, I leaned in and took off running, pumping my legs as fast and as hard as I could to gain speed.
Just before I reached the vault, I did a round off onto the springboard, flipping backward so my hands would land on the leather vault to complete my Yurchenko. Blocking as hard as I could by pushing off with my shoulders, I pulled my twist around and spotted the ground. I landed it perfectly—with a smile—and no hop. Not too much power or rotation.
Finishing, I looked for the same smile Kova gave Reagan. My stomach dropped when I saw the disdain in his eyes.
He cocked his head to the side and said more than asked, “You can do a double? Yes?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“What about a two and a half?”
“Yes, well, not really. I’m working on it.”
“So, why didn’t you do it?”
“Do what? The two and a half? It’s not great.” I shrugged helplessly. It wasn’t the best way to start off, but I was nervous.
I could feel another set of eyes glued to me, but I couldn’t break his gaze to see who they belonged to. And truthfully, I was embarrassed and didn’t want to see the stares. Luckily, I was slightly hot so the flush on my cheeks would be brushed off as nothing more than exertion.
One brow arched to a point. Fury radiated off him. “Did you really think I would not know? That landing was too perfect—the whole vault was too good for it to be your alternate. If you want to succeed, you have to try harder elements. Take a risk, trust your body, drop the fear.
“Now get over there and do it with the two and a half so I can see where you need work. I do not have time for games. I need to know what you are capable of right now, today, not next month. What good will that do if I am training you for a two and a half and you have already been working on it?”
I wanted to correct his stiff pronunciation, but I refrained. He sounded like a robot talking at times. So instead I nodded vehemently, and took a stand behind the line. Reagan wore a smirk that deserved to be slapped off her face.
A low groan escaped my throat, irritated by both Kova and Reagan’s faces. But more importantly, I was angry with myself for not giving my all in the one moment I truly needed to.
I didn’t waste any time before I got behind the line and started running toward the stationary object. Gymnasts had to be a little crazy in the head to come up with the idea of doing back flips over objects such as this one.
Once I hit the vault, I blocked hard, taking flight, and pulled a double twist—adding a half turn. I cranked as hard as I could on my rotation but I knew it wasn’t enough. It was risky and I was sloppy in the air. Gymnasts instinctively knew their bodies, but I took the chance and threw it anyway.
Landing, I stumbled to the side, but I caught myself before my knees went down, which was huge. Knees were never to touch the floor on a landing.
Standing, I finished and looked at Kova.
“Same thing with the floor and beam. Do not hold back,” he stated before he turned his back to me and carried on.
It was going to be a long day.
IT WAS NEARLY nightfall and I was exhausted. Without looking in the mirror, I knew I was a hot mess. Chalk coated my body and leotard, strands of hair fell from my ponytail and surrounded my face, and my eyes were puffy and swollen, heavy with fatigue. I sat with my legs spread in my little shorts in the middle of the gymnastics’ lobby while scrolling on my phone. It was unladylike and my mom would’ve killed me for it, but I didn’t give a shit. I got my ass handed to me today and I was damn tired.
All I wanted to do was go home, take a shower, pop some Motrin, and go to bed. Motrin, the real breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions. Screw eating a fresh cooked meal.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that just yet. I had to wait for Coach to finish up before I could leave. Judging by the first real training session I had today, I could tell the next couple of weeks were going to be rough in more ways than one.
After I did the other two events earlier like Coach had asked, I’d gone and met with my private tutors. They went over my syllabus for each class and what would be expected of me, along with my gym hours. Mr. Landry would teach Chemistry and American History, and Mrs. Taylor would teach Pre-Cal and English. I tried to focus on everything they both said, but my mind kept reverting back to the routines I performed and wondering how I did. If my wobbly turn on beam impacted my ability, if the step out of bounds on the floor hurt me, or the fact I held back on vault in the beginning made a difference.
I sighed loudly. I didn’t know who I was kidding.
After school, Alfred took me home for lunch, which ended up being small and short since my stomach was in knots. I couldn’t eat, my nerves were shot. Plus, I hated training on a full stomach. Once I returned to the gym, Kova had me repeat the same things as this morning so other coaches could judge my routines, which I was sure were shit by that point.
Maybe I was just being hard on myself.
The door slammed shut, taking my attention away from my friends’ fun updates on social media. Kova snapped his fingers as he brusquely walked past me. “Let us go.”
Dick mode–activated!
<
br /> Following him into his office, he waited for me to walk in then shut the door. He took a seat behind his desk and I sat in front. I tightened my ponytail and braced myself.
Looking me directly in the eyes, he got right to the point. “Today was a test, an evaluation to see where you currently are.” He sighed tiredly. “I am going to be blunt. You do not come close to my standards, Adrianna, and that worries me. You are not ready for the senior team. Not even close. Definitely nowhere near prepared to test this season. You are setting yourself up for failure if you do.”
My mouth dropped open and tears formed in the back of my eyes. I would not cry, I wouldn’t allow it. Shit, I’d been schooled not to cry. But fuck, that hurt.
Being told you’re not good enough in gymnastics was like being kicked while you’re down. It was heartbreakingly devastating. Aside from sustaining an injury that forces you to rest, it’s probably the worst thing you could possibly hear. You’re already hard on yourself as it is trying to be the best. You give your all, you silently deal with the pain and aches, the gnawing hunger, the exhaustion, when you know there will always be someone who will come along that is better than you. It’s a double-edged sword. And this shit runs through your head on replay.
“I spoke with Madeline, the other elite coach who evaluated you, and she agreed with me, you need work. You have a lot of bad habits we need to break, which is going to be a tedious task. Little details matter in this sport. Had I evaluated you before you came, without a doubt, I would have turned you away from the elite program. But your father made a generous donation to have our café funded, which allows you to be here.” He folded his hands in front of him, looking jaded. “So here you are.”
“I’m not even a level ten in your eyes, am I?”
He shook his head, his lips a thin flat line. No Coach Kissable here.
