by Sally Henson
His offer softened the walls I’d been building. “That would be great.”
And there he was, being all sweet again. It was hard to stay mad. Coming here had been a bad idea, though. I’d known I shouldn’t have done it, but my friends had wanted an escape, and other than gymnastics, they were all I had.
A little sleep made a huge difference, though I thought I could have had a snack and dozed off again. The past two weeks had been rough. I descended the stairs, listening for where my friends might be. “Ryan? Gamela?” I called.
On my way to the movie room, I noticed the deep shadows of the trees outside the windows. I called for them again, but they weren’t in there. What time was it?
I headed back to the kitchen where I’d left my phone. Panic pricked inside me when I noticed how dark it was out the deck door. The clock on the microwave said five-thirteen.
No.
I spotted my phone on the island and checked the screen. Panic multiplied when I saw Coach Steff’s missed text messages.
Coach Steff: Surprise! I came to visit you.
After reading the first message, my heartbeat went into hyperdrive.
Coach Steff: Fancy school, girl. I knocked on your door, but you didn’t answer. Where are you? I’ll call.
I’d missed her call too? Add nausea to my list of symptoms. I scanned the two other messages, finding she was waiting at the gym for me.
My world had just gotten more complicated. How would I explain this to her? Could the week get any worse?
I sped out the door to the deck in search of my friends. They sat around the fire.
“Do you know what time it is?” I rushed. I was so out of breath, so close to hyperventilating.
Gamela greeted me first. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said with a giggle. “You finally wake up. Are you no longer a zombie?”
Ryan chuckled, but I didn’t find one word funny.
“We were supposed to be back at school by now.” The edges of my vision blurred.
Ryan waved me over. “Let’s have something to eat, and then we’ll leave.”
Did they not care about me at all? They’d promised to have me back so that I could get a workout in. It was only weeks until my last chance to qualify for the Olympic team, and I still had work to do.
Coach was there, and I wasn’t. Not good.
My fingers curled into my palms. Every muscle tightened, and my stomach threatened to empty its contents. “Why didn’t you wake me? You promised we’d be back fifteen minutes ago.” Was this a nightmare? It had to be. I closed my eyes and told myself to wake up.
“I just thought—” Ryan started.
I shot him a glare that would slice through ice as if it were butter. “My coach from Houston is at the gym, waiting for me. Right now. We have to go.”
Gamela prattled an excuse, but I couldn’t hear it over the rushing winds filling my ears. “Take. Me. Back. Now,” I demanded.
Chapter 24
Fire burned in my belly the entire trip back. I couldn’t even speak for fear I’d burn everything to the ground.
The helicopter had been excessive to get to the cabin, but taking it back to school seemed like a necessity. After we touched down at the helipad, I had already messaged Coach that I’d be there, and I rushed to my room, changed, then headed for the gym. All of the running could be part of my warm-up.
“Ally,” Ryan called, catching up to me from the dorm doors. He gripped my arm, slowing, bringing us to a stop. “You haven’t said one word since we left.”
No? How about five? “This was a bad idea.”
His whole body frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought you needed a break. Something to take your mind off everything.”
I stared at him, wondering what exactly he meant by those words. “Are you saying you had no intention of bringing me back by five?” As much as I wanted an answer to that question, I was wasting time standing there. “I’ve got to go.”
“What are you going to do? You’re still tired. And your ankle.”
My body was full of adrenaline; there was no way I could be tired. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. Gamela … I’d read it later. She was probably reminding me not to make an emotional decision or some other brilliant advice. I wasn’t happy with her either. Neither bothered to keep their word. “What do you think I’m going to do?” The phone buzzed again, but I ignored it, slipping it back in my pocket.
Ryan’s hand squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really thought getting away would be …” He pulled me close, sliding his arms around me.
Being close to him with our arms around each other, kissing, was one of my favorite things. And when I was there, I could think of nothing but the moment. I wanted to lean into him, press my lips to his and make him smile again … but it was clear that Ryan Jacobs was the opposite of me, and a distraction I didn’t have time for.
As much as I wanted to keep my boyfriend, the trip to his cabin proved I should have kept my vow and kept my distance. No boys. No distractions.
My lips angled for his, but I forced myself to step away.
Don’t kiss the class clown.
I didn’t want to break it off, but I had to. “I can’t do this anymore. You—me—it’s not working.” I pointed to my ankle. “This is the reason I shouldn’t date, Ryan.”
His nose crinkled, looking as if he could get sick at any moment.
I pulled a dirtbag move. My ankle was fine, but he wasn’t letting up. And I had to do something. “I let you talk me into going away when I knew I should have stayed. You’re a distraction. It’s just not going to work.”
He looked down at the space between us, his brows drawn deep, before he stepped closer. “Things didn’t go like I’d hoped today. And then your coach showing up … Let me walk you, and we can talk about everything tonight.”
I shook my head, putting distance between us again. “I think you’ve done enough.”
His expression crumpled. “I know I screwed up, but—”
I shook my head, shook him off, and took off running toward the gym. Tears stung my eyes during the short trip. My ankle was fine. I wasn’t tired after sleeping all day. Hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was never going to last. My priorities had gotten mixed up since he’d wormed his way into my heart.
Why did I have to fall for him? It didn’t matter anymore.
Ryan was no longer part of my routine.
After I apologized profusely about being late, Coach Steff switched into her all-business mode, the one I loved so much because it helped me focus too. We could say short sentences, snap, communicate with few words, and neither of us took offense. It was so easy to be with her, work with her, because I didn’t have to worry about hurting her feelings—not like with Ryan.
Of course, I lied about where I’d been. There was no way I could tell her I’d taken a helicopter up in the mountains to a swanky cabin and frolicked in the forest with my boyfriend when I should have been there.
Ex-boyfriend.
The reality of the “ex” part opened a hole in my chest, but I did my best to pretend it wasn’t there. I’d have to deal with that later. I could keep it together for this vital practice.
It was time to get my priorities back in order—time to ignore what had happened on my way to the gym and pour everything I had left into convincing Coach, and my parents, that I had made the comeback they all believed impossible. I was the girl who broke the mold, the one who would make it despite the odds.
I warmed up. The MLA team didn’t usually stay this late on Saturdays. It was more of an individual practice. Tessa and a couple of younger gymnasts hung around, in awe of Coach, but that was it. Which meant I had to wrap my own ankle.
“Run through all your skills. I want to see where you’re at,” Coach Steff said.
The adrenaline that had coursed through me when I’d found out she was there lingered. It helped me stay tight and keep my toes pointed.
�
�Very nice,” she said, striding toward me. “I have a proposition for you.”
My eyes widened. Hope flittered in my chest. “Okay.”
“If you can perform your routines at the same level as last summer, your parents have agreed to allow you to train in my gym over spring break.”
That meant Coach would make sure I was ready for the tryouts and could compete through her gym. I squealed, leaping into her arms. “Yes!”
We started with uneven bars, passing with flying colors. Next was beam, which I was confident would be on par. It was. My muscles began to ache. From weakness, maybe? It didn’t matter, because I had to push through and keep it together. Floor was next. My last flubbed practice stuck in my mind. I visualized the routine until it was perfect in my head. The mat was cool under my feet as I took my place and nodded for the music to begin.
On the second tumbling pass, I decided to go for the extra points of a double layout instead of a double tuck, to prove to Coach I deserved to be on her team again. I launched into the trick, but the height wasn’t there, and my rotation was slow. When I saw the mat on the second turn, it was too close. I tried to pike my legs over and braced for impact. My hands and head hit first, jamming my feet into the mat soon after. That would have been a huge deduction. A burst of pain radiated across my skull along with a temporary blur of my vision, but I kept going.
I stepped into the corner for my final stretch of power tumbling, envisioning what it should be. Every ounce of strength and control went into it. The landing wasn’t perfect, but close.
All three coaches were tossing critical instructions as we moved to the vault. I accepted everything they threw at me. Coach Steff would have stopped me right then had my flubbed landing convinced her I couldn’t be ready in time. My heart lifted with hope. I might get out of MLA. My old life called to me like a siren I hadn’t heard in a while. But leaving behind Ryan and the heartache I’d soon feel was another reason to push myself.
“Yeah, I pushed back too far,” I said through my heavy breaths. I think I masked hitting my head, because none of them mentioned it. But for some reason, the room began to spin. I blinked a few times, ducking my face so they didn’t notice, until it went away. It persisted. I stopped, acted like I needed to stretch, and caught my breath.
Come on, Ally. You’re so close. Keep it together. And don’t think about Ryan. His big grin and the way the sunlight played across his hair this morning came to the front of my thoughts. I shook my head, pushing them away just like I’d pushed him.
“Everything okay?” Coach Steff asked.
I straightened. “Yep. All good.”
After the room stopped spinning, I thought about Ryan’s face when I’d broken up with him. I had a feeling that once I was alone in my room, I’d be regretting everything. I was still upset with Ryan and even Gamela for the unrestful night and day they’d put me through, let alone making me late to get back to the gym.
My muscles grew tired all of a sudden, but I willed myself to stay strong. I wanted this so badly, I was willing to do whatever it took.
I did a simple practice vault—just to get the feel of the apparatus. When I landed, it took all I had to fight taking a step … on a simple vault my ten-year-old self used to do. It might have had to do with the dizzy, off-balance wave rocking my head.
My former coach and my current ones stood to the side of the vault where the judges would be. Their heads bowed together, no doubt discussing me.
I swallowed the giant lump in my throat as I passed by and took my place again. Staring down the runway to the springboard, I took in a deep breath. Pops and crackles sounded in my ears like it does when there is complete and utter silence. I ignored it, blowing out my breath and the past week’s failures.
It was hard to ignore the nausea plaguing my stomach and the strange prickles in my ears, but I had no choice. It was time to focus. I could fall apart after a few more minutes. I thought about how free and powerful tumbling made me feel—how vaulting was like flying—and ran full force.
The last thing I remembered was my hands landing at the back of the vault.
Chapter 25
Loud whirling of wind and a strong sense of gravity brought me out of unconsciousness. And then the excruciating headache had me opening my eyes. I opened them wide enough to see bright light above me. Dr. Dave’s and Coach Steff’s faces loomed above too. Their words were garbled as if we were all underwater. I wanted to ask what they said, but I was so tired. Pain snaked around my whole body, which was overpowered by my head feeling as if it was actually splitting open. Thankfully, darkness tugged me back under, extinguishing the pain.
Bright lights and garbled voices woke me once again. White light, white ceiling, white walls. Everything was white except blurs of pink and purple shirts. The flashes of light and the noise only made my head want to explode.
A man with dark hair, eyes, skin, and mustache came into focus. “Ally? I’m Dr.—”
Rolling nausea slammed me, and my stomach lurched. Anything I had left of breakfast burned my throat as it came back up. Dizziness and more nausea followed. As quickly as the light, the man’s face, and the nausea had appeared, I felt my body sink under the water again.
Though I didn’t know what was going on, when there was darkness and sleep, nothing hurt. I wanted to stay there.
Coach Steff’s voice echoed in my pounding head. “They wouldn’t tell me what the MRI showed. No. She hasn’t woken up.”
A beep sounded. The darkness and pressure around me made me feel like I was deep underwater.
“I can’t. My mom’s having surgery the following day. I’m so sorry, Leeann.”
She was talking to Mom?
“Yeah. I don’t know. Maybe. Her coaches here said she hadn’t been doing the double layout on her second pass.”
The beep sounded again. I wanted them both to stop.
“She was so close,” Coach said. “I could’ve gotten her where she needed to be.” She gave a soft sound of amusement. “Ally proved us all wrong.”
Another beep sounded, shooting through my head. I lifted my hand to my forehead, but something held it back.
“We both should have let her stay.”
When I peeked my eyes open, Coach’s shadow stood near a darkened window.
“I didn’t think she’d make a comeback either. She’s tough, but not this time,” she said, her voice dropping.
Coach didn’t think I could do it? She’d lied to me? My throat tightened. She’d betrayed me.
“If she makes a complete recovery, it’ll be months before she could get back into the gym.”
Another beep. I tried to take in my surroundings. Maybe find out how to shut that noise off. Tubes came out of my hand, so I used my other hand to press against my pounding head, hoping it would ease the pressure.
“This was her last chance, Leeann.”
My last chance? No. It couldn’t be. “Momma?” My voice was so soft even I couldn’t hear it. The shadows came into focus. We had to be in a hospital room.
“She’ll be twenty-one by then. You and I both know that’s too old.”
Her words constricted around my chest. As if I needed more pain. “What do you mean?” I asked, my dry voice raspy.
Coach turned around and I reached for her, but she just stared at me. “She’s awake. I need to get someone in here.”
“Momma,” I called. My head and neck hurt so bad, and now my chest too. I just wanted to hear Momma’s voice—wanted to know what was going on.
Coach rushed out of the room. When I tried to turn my head to track her, I couldn’t move. My hand instantly went to my neck to find a hard plastic brace. Panic rose, the beeps quickened, and my breath came in pants. What was going on?
His name came out in a whisper. “Ryan.” I wanted him, his arms around me, and the calming effect he had on me.
The light from the open door hit me like an arrow cracking my skull. I closed my eyes to block it out. A tear slid down my cheek. An
d then another. Realization hit me … I was in the hospital.
After Coach Steff and the nurse calmed me down, they asked me a myriad of questions. The doctor who came in asked the same ones. By the time the inquiries were over, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was sleep, but they wouldn’t let me.
Coach explained that I had veered sideways off the vault, under-rotated, and landed on my head off the mats. No wonder my head felt like it was going to explode. I didn’t remember that or anything from the gym until she began telling me why she was there.
And then I recalled bits of phone conversation she had with Mom. “You won’t let me train in your gym over spring break?” I asked. My face was already soaked with tears. “You didn’t believe in me.” My whole body ached as if I’d been thrown against a concrete wall or hit by a garbage truck going eighty miles an hour.
She stroked the back of my hand. “Ally.” The deep furrow of her brow and the way she said my name, as if I were pathetic, didn’t help ease the tightness in my chest. “I can’t get any of your medical information. I don’t know if you have broken bones or anything going on internally, but you do have a bad concussion. It will be weeks before you’re released from it.” She moved her gaze to my hand. “I’m sorry.”
The trickle of tears turned into fountains. Shudders rocked my chest, breathing in staccato. “Wh-What do you mean?”
Her mask of fake hope fell. “It could be months before you tumble again.” She pressed her palm against my cheek. “The Olympics aren’t possible. If you fractured anything, your spine …” Her already tight lips stretched tighter. “They’ll know more by the time your momma gets here.” A tear spilled over her lashes. Then another.
Coach Steff was like a surrogate mother. I’d spent at least forty hours a week with her for two years. She was always the strong, “pick yourself up and do it again” mom, while my mother was the “baby, are you okay?” mom.
