by Sally Henson
I tried to shake my head, but the brace didn’t allow it. It was just precautionary. It had to be. “You said if I worked hard, I would come back. I did that. I can do it again.”
She wiped at her cheeks. “I can’t say for sure. When your momma gets here, she’ll talk to the doctors and find out what’s what. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said in my raspy voice.
“Try not to cry. The doctor said you need to stay calm.”
The hope I’d been hanging on to that I just had a bad headache began to slip through my fingers. I’d lost two things that I’d loved in one day … gymnastics and Ryan. It left me with a hollow ache in my chest and an endless supply of tears, both of which made my head hurt more.
Chapter 26
I wasn’t supposed to have visitors, talk on the phone, or have any stimuli. Which left me to my thoughts. The conversation Coach had with my mom and then with me hurt my heart every time. When I say every time, I mean every second of every minute of every hour.
And then I thought about Gamela, and the loss of friends from home, and Ryan. Sweet Ryan. By the end of the night, my heart was jockeying for number one over my head on the pain list.
The next afternoon, my other coaches from MLA had come to check on me. They were only allowed ten minutes. I tried not to cry in front of them, but holding it in made it worse. Heidi couldn’t stop staring at my neck brace. Their presence, Coach Steff’s presence, only reminded me of what I had lost—what I’d done to Ryan. What I would never have again.
After Heidi and Phillip left, I asked Coach to tell Mom not to come. As much as I’d wanted to hear my mother’s voice the day before, I couldn’t bear to see my failure in her eyes. I was mad they’d left in the first place, mad that I hadn’t meant enough for them to stay …
Unfortunately, Mom was already on her way. Coach had to catch a flight back to Houston, and I was glad she was gone.
But I hated being alone too.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. Four years dedicated to making Team USA. It was my sole goal. My only priority. And it was gone …
My chest shuddered with my breaths. Gymnastics took first, second, and third place. All else rotated around it—dropped down the list.
Silence was all around me. I longed for music or the distraction of the TV or my phone, but the doctor had me on a no-noise-or-light diet. Even though I was allowed to sleep, it came intermittently at a time when all I wanted was to fall back into the deep darkness and stay there.
Instead, I swam in the only thing I had left … an endless sea of emptiness.
“Ally?” Mom said softly, entering my room as I stared out the window of Seattle’s night sky.
Her voice tapped into a fresh well of tears. “Momma,” I said in a weak voice.
She sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, baby.” Tears glistened in her eyes. She leaned forward, pressing herself into a hug.
I wrapped my arms around her and cried again, reliving Coach’s words, the loss, all over again. I had only allowed the shudders to rock me at night when Coach was gone and the nurses didn’t check on me as much, but there they were again.
“I’m here,” she said, pulling away after a long embrace. She grasped my hand. “Rest. I’ll be here all night. I’m not leaving.”
My body seemed to relax, knowing she was there to take care of me. For now …
After I was released the following day, neck brace and super dark old-lady sunglasses in place, we stayed overnight in a hotel room. I wasn’t allowed to fly because of the air pressure, and I was glad. Leaving didn’t seem right.
Mom drove us to a house in Legacy Lake, where Mt. Rainier Legacy Academy was. I ached thinking of being so close to the school, to where the accident had happened. But mostly, I ached knowing I was this close to Ryan.
The home was gorgeous, situated on the lakefront, but I didn’t care about the luxury. It had almost been a week since the accident, and my headache never completely went away, even with the over-the-counter pain medicine I was given on a regular interval. The sunglasses and neck brace were still a must, and I just wanted to be left alone in a dark room.
The house was a place to crash. Or continue my crash.
I followed my mom, slowly climbing the stairs, exhausted just walking from the car. The room she led me to was bright and faced the water, but light still hurt my head.
“Will you make it dark, please?” I asked, slipping off my shoes and crawling onto the bed. It was hard to sleep in a neck brace, but at least there was more space on the bed. More pillows than there had been in the hospital. Maybe I could get some good sleep.
I noticed it had my comforter from my dorm room. I’d hoped Gamela and Ryan would come see me, but I wasn’t allowed to have visitors when they could have come. It was thoughtful of Mom to have it brought here, but I was too tired to say anything else.
“Can I get you anything?” Mom asked.
“No,” I breathed, clutching my blanket.
“There’s an exercise room downstairs so you can continue your physical therapy after your nap.” Her hair brushed my nose as she kissed my cheek. “I’ll check on you in a little while.”
Later that evening, after I rode the stationary bike to keep the blood flow to my brain for therapy, Mom came into the room, saying she’d made us something to eat. I pretended to be asleep. Though I was glad she was there, it wasn’t the situation I’d hoped she’d come back to. I’d wanted her to be there when I competed in the tryouts, not be here to confirm that she and Dad had been right about not making it to the Olympic level.
The last time I’d seen Gamela, I’d been so mad I couldn’t even speak because I knew nothing good would come out of my mouth. And then Ryan had pushed me to speak.
I’d been so mean. And for what?
Another round of salty showers came on. I’d lost my Houston friends moving to MLA because of the distance, and I might have lost my only friends I’d made since showing up.
If Coach had said she was coming, or I hadn’t pushed myself so hard while all the extra projects and papers were going on, or said no to Gamela and Ryan and stayed …
But I missed them both. Ryan had been here to hold me while my parents were on the other side of the world. I dried my face with my shirt, pulled a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, and wiped my nose for the millionth time. I’d cried so much since arriving that I felt dehydrated. The pile of tissues on the floor proved it.
I tiptoed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom step to rest, and then searched for the kitchen for a drink. Luckily, the house had soft security lighting throughout. I didn’t need my flashlight app to see where I was going. Not having my phone to keep me busy was annoying, but at the same time, I could feel the strain when my eyes moved too fast with nothing to do. Which was why I kept them closed most of the time unless it was dark.
The fridge was full of sports drinks and food. I quickly grabbed my favorite lemon-lime, and when I closed the door, I saw a few photos behind a magnet shaped like a tiny fishing pole. I opened the other door to shine some light and squinted at the photos.
Ryan was in two of them. Him and a woman that had to be his mom. She had dark hair and a thin build like Ryan’s, but he was taller. My heart squeezed at his smile.
The other picture was with a man who I assumed was his dad. He was thin, too thin, with gray hair and skin that seemed to have lost all its color. They had the same blue eyes, though. They looked so happy. This was how Ryan wanted to remember his dad: the man who had owned up to mistakes, had tried to repair his relationships, and changed Ryan’s life to be the funny, beautiful, sweet, person he was today.
This was in Ryan’s house. How many houses did they have? Did Mom know it was Ryan’s house? I’d never told her about Ryan.
Moisture blurred my vision. After I had blamed him for twisting my ankle and called him a distraction … It was nice of him to let us stay here. If I were Ryan, I wouldn’t want to see me either.
I plodded back up the
stairs, drink in hand, sniffing and wiping my face as I went, dragging my comforter behind me.
Chapter 27
Mom left the room, and I waved Gamela over to the bed that had become my home for the past couple of days. Her wide eyes showed her concern. “Did you break your neck?”
As soon as I saw her face, mine lit up. “No. It’s a precaution. I landed on the back of my head and stretched the ligaments in my neck.”
“Do you have to stay in bed all the time?” she asked sitting next to me.
For some reason, her question squeezed my chest. Or maybe it was just the fact that breathing was a requirement. It had become a painful job lately. “No.” I lay down, hoping the crushing of my rib cage would lesson.
“Are you tired? I could come back if—”
I silenced her with my hand on hers. Tears pooled in my eyes. Would they ever stop?
“Oh, Ally.” She lay next to me and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry.” Her watery eyes stared at me. “Please forgive me. I should never have pushed you to go to the cabin. I put a guilt trip on you and—”
“Stop,” I said, sniffing and blinking the tears away. “This wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”
She wiped the back of her hand against her wet cheek. “But if I hadn’t said do it for me, you wouldn’t have gone.”
I swallowed at the memory that I had forgotten about until hours earlier. The doctor had said short-term memory loss was possible. I revealed how I’d tried to do a harder skill and hit my head on the landing. It didn’t seem like a big deal, so I kept going. “I probably got a slight concussion then. And when I was dizzy, I should have said so instead of pushing myself. There’s no one to blame but me.” The last words came out in hiccups.
She gave me a gentle hug.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, La La. I was such a jerk on the way back to school. To both of you.”
“Hello? So was I.” She tried to soothe me. “I’m just so glad you’re going to be okay.”
I paused. Would any of my friends from Houston have taken time out of their training to come to see me in this moment, when I was at my lowest? They hadn’t returned my calls or texts after I’d moved. It was like I was out of sight and out of mind. Maybe all I’d been was a convenient friend to them, someone who was around but not a distraction. Friendship … well, maybe it was supposed to be a distraction—a good one, the kind that lifted me to be a better me. Because I hadn’t been the best of friends to Gamela, but she was here. I vowed to be better, to be the one she could confide in about her family—when she was ready.
She pulled back and smiled. “So when do you get back to the gym?”
“Weeks. Maybe.” If then. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever be able to tumble again.
She rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. I saw her chest shake as she held back a sob. She knew that meant no Olympics.
I sniffed and steered away from my broken dreams. “Does Ryan hate me?”
“He’s avoiding me,” she said softly. “He won’t return my messages or calls. Except for him telling me you were here. I see him in the hall, but he’s gone by lunch. He doesn’t answer his door.” She swiveled her head, piercing me with her striking eyes. “I don’t know what he thinks.”
“If this is his house, how did I end up here? I’ve barely said anything but yes or no to my mom.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Can you send him a message?”
I rolled to my back and covered my eyes. Crying gave me a headache, but I couldn’t help it. And it seemed like all I had done since Coach gave me the news was cry. “No,” I said, explaining how I couldn’t have light or my phone or television or music. Not even visitors until now.
“I’ll do it.” She pulled out her phone. “But you have to promise me to talk to your mom after I leave. Or now, if you want. While I’m here.”
Gamela didn’t talk about her parents much. I didn’t think her dad was in the picture. Even though she kept it private, I think she had a great relationship with her mom. I used to think my mom and I had a great relationship, before she decided I’d never make a comeback and ran off with Dad.
I let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t possible to avoid my mom for the rest of my life. But I wanted to come to terms with failing before talking to her. I agreed so Gamela wouldn’t worry. “Fine.”
Her satisfied grin made me think about our trip into Seattle when she’d caught Ryan and me kissing at the Starbucks. “What do you want to say?”
My heart sped up—the first time it had done anything but a low thud since I’d woken up in a hospital. “I don’t know.”
She aimed the camera at me. “How about a picture?”
“With this face? Not to mention the neck brace. No.”
She slumped. “Yeah, you’re right.”
We settled for the simple message that I would like to see him. Just being in his house reminded me of what a sweet and generous guy he was, and that I had broken up with him for a dream that would never come true.
He didn’t respond. Gamela exchanged numbers with my mom so she’d know when she could visit again.
Mom tried to get me to eat, but I wasn’t hungry and went back to sleep. I hadn’t been hungry since I’d first woken up in the hospital bed. At first it was the nausea caused by the concussion. That was what the nurse blamed it on. Loss was a solid appetite suppressor too.
I’d lost gymnastics, maybe forever. I’d lost Ryan. I’d never NOT had a goal I was working toward, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do with all this time. At least Gamela was still my friend.
I lay in the dark—in the silence—and cried myself to sleep. If I’d been in my dorm room, it would have been déjà vu upon my arrival to Legacy Lake, Washington.
Only there was nothing to get me out of bed anymore.
Chapter 28
The door to the bedroom opened. I stayed in my fetal position, staring out the windows. It was overcast as usual, and since I had admitted the light didn’t bother me anymore, Mom felt it necessary to draw back the curtains.
“Seriously?” Gamela asked tersely. The bed dipped behind me.
“Hey. How was school?” I asked. It had been two days since I’d seen her. No messages that Ryan had replied to my request. No idea what I was going to do with my life.
“Ugh.” She grumbled and threw off my covers. “You stink. You’re taking a shower even if I have to wash you myself.”
I shot her an annoyed glare but didn’t move. “I’ll do it later.”
“The doctor is going to release you to come back to school tomorrow. I want you back across the hall from me, and you lying in bed all the time and not taking a bath is going to ruin it. Now drag your butt up and follow me.”
Mom had threatened the same thing the day before, but Gamela was serious. She came back when I didn’t follow and sat in the bathroom while I showered.
The water actually felt good. So did the toothbrush against my teeth. When we went back to the bedroom, the sheets had been stripped from the bed.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” Gamela insisted. She hooked her arm with mine and led me downstairs to the back deck.
Mom came into the kitchen as we were stepping outside. “Let me make you girls some hot tea.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Woods. That would be great.” Gamela closed the door. “You haven’t talked to her.” It wasn’t a question. Either she knew from my avoided eye contact, or Mom had told her.
I shrugged, sat on one of the outdoor chaise chairs, and took off the uncomfortable neck brace. It was chilly, but not bad with my blue-and-gray school sweatshirt on.
Gamela combed through my hair. She wanted to fix my hair for me. We settled on a loose braid. “Nice view. Jovi and Crue live out here somewhere.”
I’d heard of the reality TV star and his rock-and-roll family, but I hadn’t paid attention. Maybe I should have. I’d been second-guessing everything lately, and it exhausted me. Thank goodness the property was massive. The nei
ghbors weren’t close enough to see me outside.
Gamela filled the silence with who’s going where on spring break, which began in two days. She mentioned everyone but herself and Ryan.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” she sighed. “Mom’s working.”
I felt the tug of a band twisting around the end of my hair. “Thanks.” I slipped the brace on while she lifted my braid. “Is Ryan going to New York?”
“He’s already gone.”
My gaze dropped to my bare toes, hugging my knees closer to my body. Something needed to keep the emptiness from ripping my chest apart. He wasn’t coming. “I broke up with him because I thought he was getting in the way of my future.” My chest shuddered with a silent sob. “It was for nothing. He’s gone. My future’s gone.” Anger at my stupid choices and the life-altering concussion simmered in my gut and came out as I shouted across the still water, “I have nothing!”
“Ally Woods,” Gamela said, sounding a lot like a mother. She sat on the cushions in front of me. Her blue-green eyes narrowed. “Since you moved here, you’ve become my best friend. Are you calling me a nothing?”
The door opened. “Ally? Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” The outburst didn’t make my head hurt. The jury was still out about my heart.
The door clicked shut, and Gamela persisted. “Well?”
“Of course not. You’re mine too.”
Her intense gaze released their hold on me. She gave me a hug. “Good. Don’t forget that, because …”
Pausing a sentence after “because” did not give me a good feeling. I gave her a warning look.
“You’re sixteen, girl. What’s the worst that can happen if you never make it to the Olympics?”
