by Lucia Franco
“My standards are high, but that is what wins. Doing safe, mediocre gymnastics is not going to get you on the podium. I think you will agree with me. You were scared today and held back. That concerns me.”
I tried hard not to cry, but I couldn’t stop the tears from resting on my eyelids. I looked up at the ceiling, willing them to disappear so they wouldn’t fall down my cheeks. I was mad at myself for letting my emotions get to me. I wanted to appear strong, but this was equally as frustrating as it was hurtful. The clawing inside my gut to be better was being tackled by a larger beast.
“The worst part is,” he continued, “I agreed to train you. Once you test and you do qualify, you must train at the senior level because of your age. You are too old for any other level.”
Konstantin Kournakova was a cold man. I wondered if he had kids and prayed if he didn’t, he was sterile so it wouldn’t be possible. I knew he wasn’t going to go easy on me, but Jesus Christ. His words were as upsetting as a career ending injury.
“Seeing how it is March and you arrived in the middle of elite season, did you plan on competing the rest of the regular meet season as practice and then test next season?”
“Since we have until June, I thought I could test elite since a lot of the skills are the same.”
His eyes were empathetic. “I do not think that is a wise decision. You are just not ready.”
The last thing my heart wanted was to sit a season out, but if it furthered my career then so be it. I lowered my voice and said, “I’d rather hold off on competing and use this time as practice so I could be prepared next season to test.”
Kova sat back in his leather chair. His head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. He cupped his jaw and ran a hand over his mouth. “Do you want this, Adrianna? Really want this deep down? Because it is going to take many more hours of gym time for you to be where I need you. I am talking private lessons after practice and possibly longer hours. Pushing your body past the brink of sanity to not only master the elite level skills, but master them perfectly. And even with that, I do not know if you will get to where you need to be by the time you want. This is going to be complex to manage. A challenge. I am not sure I am capable of moving mountains.”
My jaw moved, but I was utterly speechless, trying desperately to form words but nothing came out. Kova’s green eyes stared harder, waiting for me to respond.
“I am not getting any younger, Adrianna.”
Sucking up my stupid emotions, I needed to be positive, because despite his hurtful words, I was a strong, confident person.
“I want it more than anything. Gymnastics is my life. My dream. Let me prove it, please. Give me one chance to show you. I won’t give up and I’ll work harder than everyone else in the gym, and you’ll never hear me complain.”
He stayed quiet, assessing my answer and said, “Bring me your schedule tomorrow, I will see where I can fit extra time in for you. You may have to come in on your day off, maybe do a half-day just for conditioning. I will go over it with Madeline, then call your father and tell him the joyous news.”
Ignoring his jab, I responded eagerly. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I quickly learned Kova was a difficult man to read with his prolonged silence, but agreeing to whatever he said got me the approval I sought in his eyes.
“What is it that you are going for?”
Confused, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Do you plan to compete in college? Retire before or after college...I need to know what I am working with.”
“I want to go to the Olympics.”
A deer in headlights. It was the only reference that came to mind as Kova stared at me. He didn’t think I could do it. It was obvious.
Snapping his head to the side sharply, Kova cracked his neck. The sound echoed throughout the room, and I cringed. “You do realize how many young girls have the same ambition, right? How difficult it is to achieve?”
“I do.”
“And you are aware only five girls in the entire country will make the women’s team? That the alternates hardly ever get called up.”
“Of course.”
“And they are normally making the US Team around fifteen-sixteen years old?”
I knew where Kova was going with this, and truthfully, I didn’t want to hear it. I’d had enough kicks to the gut for the night.
“I’m well aware I’m older than normal to begin the elite path and that my chances are low because of my age, but I have the fight and drive to make it happen. I have passion and determination. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. If I don’t push for it, I’ll regret it. Everything I need is at my fingertips. I can do it...I know I can. I will practice until I can’t get it wrong, until my hands are bleeding and my feet are raw. I’ll go to the Olympics, and nothing is going to stop me. Especially not my age.”
Seemingly impressed, Kova nodded slowly, taking in my words. “Go home. I will see you tomorrow, Adrianna.”
The moment I stepped out of the shower and dressed in my pajamas, I called Avery to vent. The entire meeting with Coach Kova replayed in my head, making me sick to my stomach. Even though I should’ve been heading to bed for tomorrow’s early practice, I knew my best friend would still be up. I gave her a play-by-play of my day and the results of my shitty evaluation, feeling bad for myself the entire time.
“Go home, that’s basically what he told me,” I complained. “I’m shit, Avery. A joke. I can’t believe it. And here I thought I was good enough to be on a senior team. He clearly doesn’t want me testing for elite, doesn’t think I’m good enough, yet he has no choice to.”
“What do you mean he has no choice? So he gave you all that shit for nothing, but at the end of the day, he has to train you?”
“Yes. There are junior elite and senior elite gymnasts. It’s all based on age and you have to qualify by testing elite through national competitions with a minimum score. Since I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months, I need an elite coach who knows how to train higher level gymnasts and create routines that work with the elite scoring system. There’s a certain level of difficulty, artistry, and execution where by combining skills, it gives me a higher start value. I continued training the way I did back home because a lot of the senior and junior elite skills are similar, but I couldn’t advance, so technically I can’t be deemed elite just yet.”
“Just shut up and stop with the pity party. If he has no choice, which it sounds like he doesn’t, it’s obvious he’s saying that shit on purpose to motivate you. You know you don’t suck.”
“Motivate me? Telling your new athlete they aren’t up to your ridiculous standards and may never be is motivation to you? And seriously, Avery, if you’d seen these girls and what they’re capable of doing, you’d feel worthless too.”
“He’s purposely messing with your head and you’re allowing it to happen. Brush that shit off and go in tomorrow and act like he never said any of it. Hold your head high and show him what you’re made of. I bet fish lips tells all the new girls that.”
I giggled at her fish lips comment with her. “Why do you keep calling him fish lips?”
“Excuse me, Coach Kissable.” She chuckled. “He reminds me of Tom Hardy, and Tommy has fish lips.”
Oh, my God. “You know, when you put it that way it’s kind of hot. Now I won’t think of a blow fish every time you say fish lips, I’ll think of Tom.”
“See?” She laughed. “I told you.”
I sighed, bringing me back to the moment. “I really hope I can prove him wrong.”
“You can and you will. It’s just like when your mom talks down to you.”
I paused, thinking about what she just said. “You’re right, but I really don’t want to hate my coach. Not that I hate my mom, but you know what I mean.”
“How can you hate a face like that? He reminds me of a brooding, mysterious guy with a dark side to him. I bet his body is even better.”
I rolled my eyes,
smiling at her comment. I wondered where the hell she came up with this stuff. “I can say with all honesty that I haven’t even given his body a thought. I was too stressed about performing today to look.” I lied. Of course I had.
“Yeah, okay,” she responded sarcastically. “Whatever you say, but maybe you should take a Xanax before you go in tomorrow, you clearly need it.”
“No way. That’ll only make me tired and I can’t have that. I need to be on my A game, remember? Speaking of pills, I need to take some Motrin before I forget. I’m going to be sore as shit tomorrow.” I reached under the bathroom sink and grabbed the white bottle that housed my favorite little orange pills.
“I was only joking with you.”
“Ha.” I shook two orange pills into my hand and filled the glass I kept by my bathroom sink with water. Swallowing back the pills, I said, “Thanks, Avery, for talking to me. This wasn’t how I expected today to go at all. Not even close. I feel like a fool for thinking it would go any other way.”
“You mean, listening to you bitch? Anytime!” Her smile seeped into her words, making me grin in return. I wasn’t sure what I’d do without this girl.
Shaking my head, I said, “I’m gonna go. I have to be up at five thirty.”
“Ugh. Good luck with that. Later, babe.”
“Later.”
FIVE MINUTES. I was pretty sure that was how long I slept before my obnoxious alarm clock went off. I had to do a double take to make sure I read the clock correctly.
Dear God, save me.
Sitting up, my legs dangled over my bed as I rubbed my blurry eyes. My back was tight, as were my shoulders and thighs. It wasn’t too bad though, but maybe that was due to the Motrin I had taken before bed. Only time would tell.
Alfred would be here in forty-five minutes to pick me up, so I quickly brewed a cup of coffee from my Keurig and began to get ready.
About a year ago, my mother started giving me coffee to drink to replace meals. To shut her up, I told her it helped curb my appetite, but it never really did. Maybe an hour at most. I worked out hard, and I was hungry often.
In the end, I just developed a taste for Starbucks.
I packed my bag quickly, making sure I had two of those tasteless meals my mom loved so much, along with some protein bars and water bottles. And just in case, I grabbed the bottle of Motrin. Today would be another long day and I wasn’t sure how I would fare.
Like clockwork, Alfred texted me saying he was outside. That man was perpetually on time, something I appreciated. Locking up my condo, I took the elevator down and jumped into the SUV.
“Miss—”
I gave him the look. “Thomas.” I only used Thomas when I was serious.
He smirked. “How are you this morning?”
“Eh. A little sore, but not as bad as I thought I’d be,” I said, fastening my seatbelt.
He dipped his chin. “That’s good to hear. Do you know what time you’ll be done today?”
“Not really, and after what I learned yesterday, who knows. I don’t have school today, so I guess whenever Coach says I’m done. I’ll text you when I get out and just wait for you to get there.”
“How about you just send me a text during lunch and give me a roundabout idea?”
“I can do that.”
Changing the subject, he said, “I hope you’re paying attention to where we’re going. You know when you turn sixteen you’re on your own, young lady.”
“Do you really think my parents will let you leave me alone in this city all by myself? It’s one thing being alone on the Island, it’s another thing in a town they aren’t familiar with. I just don’t see it happening anytime soon, especially when the media gets a hold of the fact I’m not there anymore.”
Rossi Enterprises was a well known real estate developer. They were responsible for many residential and commercial buildings in Palm Beach. The company had been in my family for many years, beginning with my grandfather Angelo, who founded it. He started small with money he was given by his father, who had been a successful real estate agent at the time. Angelo took a chance against his father’s advice and built a hotel with the money, then bought land from that income and built more commercial real estate and eventually residential properties. He did very well, but it was my dad who partnered with Avery’s father, Michael Heron, years before either of us were born and created an empire, building high-end properties in major cities around the world. The name grew quickly, as did fame and fortune, and with that came unwanted press. Rossi Enterprises was now responsible for more than twenty-five hundred properties worldwide, coming in as one of the top developers in the world.
But leave it to my brother and his wild friends to attract bad publicity from their drunken crusades at the nightclubs and private parties, not to mention, public arrests. It didn’t help that Avery had twin brothers around the same age as Xavier. It was an ongoing joke between both families that both pregnancies were planned. My brother and Avery’s were thick as thieves and only fueled the press. I lost track of the amount of times Dad had to bail them out of jail for things like drugs, crazy parties, and reckless driving. The band of brothers, as the media called them, were a force that couldn’t be stopped. They flaunted whatever they could and took advantage of everything at their disposal. If outsiders only knew what went on behind closed doors.
The Rossi name was soon on everyone’s lips. Anything we or the Herons did spread like wildfire, therefore making the boys a magnet for the paparazzi. My parents paid a lot of money to keep things out of the media, but some still made the front page.
Pursing his lips, Alfred snuck a glance at me. “Honey, when it comes to your parents, I have no idea what they’ll do. I just want you to be prepared. Personally, I’d like it if you got used to your surroundings and the street names before I leave.”
I nodded, agreeing with him as we pulled into World Cup. My stomach was immediately in knots, anxious for what was to come. I was running on five minutes of sleep, Starbucks, and a prayer.
“You’re right...I’ll pay attention starting tomorrow.”
“Have a good training sesh,” Alfred said as I stepped out of the Escalade, causing me to pause and look over my shoulder.
“Did you just say sesh? Tell me you did not just say that.” Sesh was the slang everyone was using for session back home.
“What? Isn’t that what everyone is saying these days? I’m just trying to keep up with the times.”
“Alfred,” I said, shaking my head with a big smile. “See you later.”
Lugging my duffle bag over my shoulder, I walked into the gym, feeling slightly more comfortable than yesterday. Even though I’d been on time the day before, I was much earlier this morning and had time to put my belongings away, therefore preventing any awkward stares from my teammates...or reprimands from Coach Kova. After last night, I planned to prove I was worthy of being here. I’d shut up and do everything he said I needed to. I wanted this, and I refused to let a few unconstructive comments bring me down.
I undressed down to my leo and was in the middle of sipping water when Kova emerged at my side, scaring the shit out of me. He was like a fucking ninja, always appearing out of thin air without a sound.
I sputtered and water dripped down my chin. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and looked at him, capping the container.
Kova eyed me with anything but concern. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I coughed.
“Good. Let us go into my office.”
I threw my hair into a messy bun, worried about what he wanted to talk about. He shut the door behind me and I took a seat, waiting for him to kill my hopes and dreams once again. It seemed to be his main goal every time I stepped foot into his office. My stomach twisted as our eyes locked, nervousness rippled through my veins as he stared at me for a long, hard moment. This couldn’t be good.
“I spoke with Madeline and we devised a new schedule for you. Until you can reach the level where we need you to
be, you will be here six days a week with lunch and tutoring in between. Of those six days, two of the days will be dedicated to your favorite ballet class in the morning.” A sardonic half-grin tipped his lips. My belly fluttered at the way his eyes flickered when he said that. “Since you do not do tutoring every day, you will be here. Those will be about ten-hour days, coming in at just under fifty hours a week. You will get only one day to yourself for now to do whatever you need.”
He had to have been out of his ever loving mind. But knowing better than to argue, I curtly responded. “Okay.”
Looking down at his notes, his eyes scanned a few sentences before looking back at me. “You are going to also take some strengthening classes. We need you to improve your flexibility, and I think a couple of private sessions with me before practice will do it. So long as you continue with the drills.”
My last coach used to say my hips were tight, but I didn’t have a good understanding of what that meant. I guess I’d find out when the private session begun.
“There will be lots of conditioning in between, and every day before you start and when you finish, you will run two miles on the track outside.”
“There’s a track outside?” I hadn’t seen one.
“Yes, just a couple of blocks over there is a high school. You will use their track. Four laps equals one mile, so you will run eight in the morning and eight in the evening.”
I fucking hated running. “Whatever you say.”
“This schedule is extreme and not something we do for everyone. If you cannot handle it, or even think for a minute you are not capable of it, you should tell us. My time, as well as all the coaches in this gym, is precious. I do not want you wasting it.”
That pissed me off. Since I had no one to speak for me, I had to stand up for myself. “You haven’t even given me a chance. Not even twenty-four hours have passed. What makes you think I can’t do it? Yesterday I made mistakes, I know I did and I’ll own up to it, but I was nervous. Give me another chance.”
“There are no second chances in gymnastics. You should know this.”
