The Unlikely Story of a Pig in the City

by Jodi Kendall

  Today was the big day: my gymnastics meet. While the family was having breakfast and Sarah was off taking the PSAT, I looped the bike chain around Sully’s front gate and spread the word that it was time for an emergency meeting at the Three Stoops.

  “We don’t have much time before warm-ups,” Lucy reminded me, kicking snow off her boots. “Mom said we need to leave at eleven to get to the gym in time.”

  “Yep.” I tugged my wool hat over my ears to keep them warm. “You guys, we need to brainstorm—and fast,” I told the gang after everyone arrived. I drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs up, and exhaled. “We’re abandoning the Case for Keeping Hamlet.”

  “Wait—what?” Fernanda raised an eyebrow. “We can’t give up yet!”

  I nodded, more confident than ever that this was the right thing to do. “We have to. It’s time for Operation Home for Hamlet.”

  Sully spun his notebook to the Case File while I updated the gang on Hamlet’s escape and what happened with Mrs. Taglioni’s fence and the pie incident with Dad’s boss.

  “Whoa,” Carlos said. “Hamlet can jump that high? With those short legs?”

  “And she’s fast,” I told him. “Lightning fast!”

  “I still can’t believe Hammie flipped that pie on that mean lady’s sweater!” Lucy said.

  I shook my head. “Yeah, me neither.” I filled them in on how Hamlet knocked the baby gate over the other day, pulled up the floor tiles in her Cave, and how I could barely lift her out of the bathtub these days, even though I’d been doing all my gymnastics conditioning. “And there’s something else . . .” I brushed the thin layer of snow off the top step and sat down. “I asked Hamlet what she wanted. Like really asked her, and looked in her eyes, and listened and everything, just as Dr. Stern suggested. Hammie jumped on the windowsill and starting squealing toward the glass, and then I realized it . . . she doesn’t want to be a city pig, even if I wish I could keep her. We have to close the Case File, and I need your help to find her a forever home—and fast.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment, absorbing the news. Finally, Fernanda nodded in agreement, and the rest of our friends did the same. “Hmmm,” said Sully. Then he drew a big X across the Case File, flipping to a new page. He handed his notebook to Carlos. At the top of the new page, Carlos carefully wrote Operation Home for Hamlet in big, swirly, cursive, making the start of a new investigation official.

  “You came to the right place,” Fernanda said cheerfully. “We’ll help you.”

  “Yeah,” Carlos said. “What if we divided up the phone book and called every animal sanctuary in the county?”

  “That’s a good idea.” I nodded. “On Monday I’ll ask Ms. Fischer if we can photocopy the pages.”

  Even though we didn’t all go to the same school, we all knew Ms. Fischer. She was the local librarian and the nicest lady on the planet. She always smelled like oatmeal cookies and wore her hair short, just above the ears.

  “Carlos said county. What about in the state?” Sully chewed on his pencil, deep in thought.

  “That’s so gross,” Carlos said, making a face. Fernanda laughed and Sully looked up from the page, his cheeks turning red.

  “What if I help make posters?” Carlos suggested. “We’re doing color theory now in my art class. I can ask my teacher which color is the most eye-catching. So people walking down the street will really notice the poster, you know?”

  “Oh! That’s a good idea. I can email you one of my photos of Hamlet to put on it, too,” Lucy added, pulling out her phone.

  Fernanda snapped her fingers, her face lighting up. “I’m learning Photoshop in my Girls in Technology club.” She looked at her brother. “Maybe after dinner tonight we can put everything together in a document? This will be fun. The pig emojis are my favorite ones!”

  “We can print them at my place if you want,” added Sully. “I’ll help hang them around the neighborhood.”

  “That sounds good. Thanks, guys!” I checked my watch. “Lucy and I gotta go.”

  “Good luck today!” said Fernanda.

  “See you there!” said Sully.

  I spun around in surprise. “Wait, you’re coming to the meet today?”

  “Um, yeah.” Sully glanced at our friends, his cheeks turning red again. “We’re all going! The twins’ dad is driving us.”

  “Yay!” said Lucy, and I grinned.

  As a visiting team at Oasis Gymnastics Center, my team got to warm up first. I bounced in place and stretched my limbs, waking up every muscle and joint in my body. “Arm circles!” Coach instructed, and my teammates obeyed, going through every step of our usual warm-up. “Push-ups! Belly in, eyes up if you can. Stomach in! Two . . . three . . .”

  It felt good to move my body, even though I felt awkward and gangly. It helped free me from my electrified nerves and worries circulating in my brain.

  “One-minute handstands,” Coach said. “Starting NOW! Squeeze those thighs, girls! Knees together, point those toes! Think TALL!”

  I stretched my fingers, palms pressing into the gray fabric of the floor. I would’ve laughed if I weren’t holding my breath in my cheeks. I was always thinking tall. I didn’t need Coach to remind me. Especially not now, when our meet was about to begin.

  Josie Long Legs.

  Upside down, my long ponytail grazed the floor and my face turned hot from blood pooling into my head. Coach counted out loud until finally she said, “Okay, girls, get some water and let’s meet back at the beam in two.”

  I touched my toes to the floor and stood up, following my team.

  “You ready?” Lucy asked me, swigging from her water bottle as we stood by the visitors’ lockers.

  I nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Same here.” Lucy grinned. “Glad beam is first! We’ll get it out of the way.”

  Lucy and I were both pretty good at beam, but a few skills tripped us up. I did well on the tumbling passes, like the back walkovers, because they were fast and I had the control. It was the spins and turns that made me nervous, where I had to be graceful and focused and needed to slow down my body and mind. Slowing things down gave me time to doubt. I shook out my hands and crackled my knuckles.

  Mind over matter.

  We jogged over to the beam with our Level 5 team. We looked like a flock of glittering birds in our matching sparkling blue leotards, the special competition ones with the long sleeves that we never get to wear to practice.

  I glanced into the bleachers. Ellen was already sitting up there with Mom, and it didn’t look like she brought a book with her. Her eyes scanned the facility, and when our eyes made contact she waved at me. I waved back. Tom arrived, weaving through the crowd to climb up and sit next to her. When he spotted me, he gave me a thumbs-up.

  No sign of Dad and my other sisters yet. Sarah must still be at the PSAT. Heat bloomed inside my chest. I inhaled deeply, the thick scent of sweat mixed with chalk filling my nostrils.

  “Circle round, girls,” Coach said. She brought her palms together in front of her chest. “Almost time to march in. How’re we feeling today?”

  Maxie and I made eye contact. We both burst out laughing. “Nervous!” Maxie said, and I grinned.

  “Me, too,” I said, shaking out my wrists.

  “Me three!” chimed in Lucy.

  “Terrified!” admitted Shelby.

  “Same,” said Becky, rising on her toes.

  The other girls giggled. With each laugh, I felt my body relaxing a bit. Coach smiled. “That’s all normal. As you know, there are some competitive gyms here today. Excellence, Oasis, and Grandview all have top-notch teams. I was watching the Oasis girls warm up on floor—they’re strong. All of them landed their front tucks.” Next to me, Taryn exhaled loudly. “But we’ve trained hard for this, and you girls are ready. Becky, remember to stretch up and pull those knees to your chest! Don’t waste time getting into your tucks, it’ll delay your rotation. Lucy, think fast fast FAST on the bars! You’ll wow the
judges with your connections.” Coach turned to me. “Don’t hunch your shoulders—there you go. Stand tall. Chin up. And Josie . . .” She gave my ponytail a playful tug. “Stop fretting so much.”

  My cheeks burned. “It’s that obvious?”

  Coach laughed. “Just free your mind and you’ll maintain your balance,” she said, pinpointing my greatest fear today: losing my focus and wavering on skills that I know I’m capable of doing well. I nodded. Coach didn’t know everything going on at home, but she knew me well enough to recognize that I was a worrier. She clapped her hands, drawing the team together. Music floated through the high rafters of the gym, signaling that it was almost time for the march in, when all the teams were introduced.

  “We’re here to show them what we’ve got,” Coach said, “but let’s not forget to have fun, too—okay, girls?”

  We nodded and brought our hands together for our Team Universal cheer. The excitement in the gym was thick. You could feel it tingling across your arms, like a thunderstorm was igniting around us, but we hadn’t felt that first cool drop of water yet.

  I smiled at Lucy, placing my palm on top of her knuckles. We all crowded close and yelled, “GO, UNIVERSAL, GO!” before raising our hands high into the air.

  “Okay, Josie, you’re on beam first,” Coach said, nodding my way. I checked my posture, pretending an invisible string was pulling my heart toward the sky.

  I’d done these routines loads of times before. Maybe thousands of times before. The only difference was that today the bleachers were crammed with people and there was a panel of judges studying my every move, ready to tally up a score.

  All I could do was trust my training. And breathe.

  Chapter 18

  WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS (OR NOT)

  I saluted the judges’ table and gracefully approached the beam, pressing my palms onto the smooth, taut leather. My lungs expanded, swelling with oxygen, and I controlled my breath during its exhale, narrowing my vision to the teeny tiny spot between my fingers.

  Focus and control. That’s all it takes to hit a perfect beam routine.

  It’s as easy and hard as that simple truth.

  I raised myself up onto the beam, swinging a straight leg over and propping myself into a tightly closed V sit position. I melted my mind into each movement, remembering to stay light on my feet and keep my eyes on the end of the beam. I didn’t waver on my first turn, or when I stepped back, high on my toes, setting up my first jump.

  A flash of a camera jolted me back into reality, and suddenly I pulled away from my focus and remembered I was performing in front of a whole group of people. Nerves shot through my body like a million arrows, and my shadow paused on the blue mat below. I began to sweat. Oh, great. Now my feet and palms felt slick. What if I slipped off the beam?

  I needed more chalk. But I couldn’t get off the beam—that’d be a major deduction.

  I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this—

  I met Coach’s eyes. She nodded, urging me on, like the ticking clock beside the judge’s table. I’m not sure what was worse, the terrifying silence in the gym, or the fact that I had my first handstand coming up.

  This is when I had to be brave and just go for it. I emptied my lungs of air and inhaled again.

  Step, step, leap!

  I landed solidly on my left leg and held my right behind me as high, active, and steady as I could. Phew. That wasn’t so bad.

  Music began to play in the background as the Oasis team started their floor routines. I swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the knot in my throat.

  Almost done. I’ve got this.

  Arms out, leg back! I leveled down into the first handstand, keeping as strong and tight as I could.

  I’m a tree. I’m strong. Nothing can knock me over.

  I held the move for a full second—even though my back arched a little at the end—and struck the rest of the skills down one by one. Back walkover. Split jump. Sissonne.

  All that was left was a two-second handstand to dismount. I just had to hold it and quarter-turn to dismount onto the mat. I bent down and onto my palms, blood rushing into my head. A camera flashed from the bleachers. The sore skin of my raw palms burned, and a groan escaped my mouth as I pushed hard on the beam, trying to ignore the pain and hold the move for just another second. But I twisted my hips too far and lost control, falling onto the mat below and landing on my knees.

  Did that even count as a dismount?

  It was pretty much a total flop.

  I leaned back to prop up on my feet. Every routine required a salute, even the not-so-perfect ones. I lifted my chin and saluted the judges, then walked over to my team on the sidelines. The girls muttered, “Good job,” and “Way to go, Josie,” but I could read through their halfhearted comments.

  My beam routine was a disaster.

  Coach handed me my water bottle. “Just a little shaky on the dismount, but you kept your cool, Josie. I know there’s a lot of pressure today. Just don’t let those nerves get the best of you.”

  I shook out my hands, wrists loose. “A camera flash caught me off guard,” I admitted as I watched the scoreboard.

  Coach put her arm on my shoulder. “They’re there to capture the moment you shine. Not the moment you fail. Remember that.”

  “Right. Mind over matter.”

  “Exactly.”

  My score popped up in bright red lights: 8.550 out of ten.

  Oh, well. Not the best, but at least it was over. I slipped on my warm-up pants to watch the rest of the girls compete. “C’mon, Becky!” I cheered as my teammate approached the beam.

  Overall, Team Universal did decent on the beam rotation and even better on floor. It felt like back tucks were coming easily these days, for all my teammates and me, now that we’d gained confidence in the skill.

  Run, hurdle, roundoff, back handspring, and pounce!

  I soared through the air, tucking my knees to my chest, and landing solidly with my hands graceful above my head.

  I went into vault feeling good. I’d almost forgotten about everyone in the stands and the judges tallying up deductions. And even though my vault warm-up passes were stronger than my actual one for score, I didn’t get that many deductions, and I actually had fun.

  But as the teams rotated for the final time and we lined up alongside the uneven bars, that terrible knot in my throat reappeared. Bars meant two whole minutes of feeling my calluses pinch and break beneath Lucy’s old grips.

  I studied my best friend as she took her turn on bars. Lucy was just soaring today during warm-ups. The way she could whip and swing and release from bar to bar made my jaw drop. She made it look so easy!

  I gave her a big hug and helped tighten the dark, springy coils in her loosened ponytail. “That was awesome!” I told her, and she grinned, her face luminous.

  While I waited my turn to warm up, I looked up into the stands. My whole family was here now except for Sarah. I swore I saw her up there earlier during the last rotation. Maybe I was wrong. Mom’s face looked relaxed as she scanned the sea of gymnasts, clutching her camera with both hands. Dad had a focused expression while he watched my team warm up.

  The Three Stoops crew sat next to the twins’ dad. Sully adjusted his baseball cap. When our eyes met, he gave me a huge, goofy grin. Heat flared at my cheeks.

  I’d known Sully for, like, years. But something in his tone seemed different when he made that comment about my back tuck being awesome. It wasn’t a big deal. Right? And it was cool that he came out to support Lucy and me at our meet.

  Then why did I suddenly feel more nervous?

  Was it even possible to feel more nervous right now?

  I stepped up to the bars and gave a few relaxed swings before kipping up to the low bar. My warm-up routine went fine—maybe a little loosey goosey, but I couldn’t break free of my fears. All those eyes on me. All those people probably noticing how tall I was compared to the other girls, how wrong I looked for this sport.
/>   Josie Long Legs.

  I wanted to throw up.

  “Gather round, girls,” Coach said, snapping my attention back to the team. “We’re in solid standing going into our final apparatus.” She spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. “It’s time to focus on our energy on this last routine. Ready?”

  “Ready!” we echoed.

  Not ready, I thought. My palms felt slimy, and I chalked them up some more before slipping on my tattered grips. I was never going to feel ready.

  Taryn went first. Strong as usual. I bounced on the sidelines, rolling up on my toes and back on my heels. My turn was last. It was like my worst nightmare coming true: all this extra time to worry. The gym suddenly felt too hot, and I needed air. I fanned myself with my palm, trying to ignore everything haunting me inside.

  Chalk could get in my eyes.

  The judges could score me a zero.

  I could slip and break my arm.

  Team Universal could lose this whole competition because of me.

  “Pssssst! Josie!” a voice whispered. I spun around. A head popped up from behind a stack of mats off to the side.

  “Sarah?” I wrinkled my nose. “What’re you doing here?”

  My older sister looked both ways like she was crossing a busy street and rushed to my side. She slapped something in my hand, making me yelp from the sting of it. “Watch it!” I hissed. “I can’t get hurt before my routine!”

  “I’m not here to hurt you, sis. I’m here to help you.”

  “What?”

  “Just open it already!”

  I realized I was holding a package loosely wrapped in ruled notebook paper. It looked like it’d been crumpled up in the bottom of her book bag. I tore at an end until I touched something firm. I blinked.

  “Grips?” I said, bringing them closer to my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. “These are grips! Where in the world did these come from?”

  Sarah beamed. “Yesterday was payday at work, so Lucy helped me pick out the right size grips. . . . I mean, I’m not sure if you’re supposed to break them in like shoes or something, but I figured maybe I shouldn’t wait until Christmas to give them to you, like maybe you’d rather have them right now? Hey, what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?”