6.Ana-Maria Popescu (ROM)
28.4
This is going to be close.
chapter twenty-one
Ihave to hit my connections. That’s what’s going to keep me in this. If I hit my connections, even with my floor being super weak compared to everyone else, I’ll have a shot. I close my eyes, visualizing my routine like I did what feels like a million times back in Coronado. There are four routines between now and my turn, so that’s plenty of time to see it in my head over and over again.
Dani’s up first and my eyes open to take in her routine. Before my injuries, I would float through competitions in a laser-focused trance, but after, I’d need everything around me to distract from the pain. Now? Well, I guess something good came from all of that, because I can watch Dani work through her beam set like a pro, not a wobble or a hesitation, one skill after another with perfect ease. She sets herself for her dismount and then launches into an Arabian double front, putting an exclamation point on it by sticking the landing.
“Da-ni! Da-ni!” the crowd starts up again, banging their thundersticks together, waiting for her score. She’s their girl, and she’s giving them everything they want. I’m not out of it, but not gonna lie, I kind of want her to win too.
I push that thought out of my head as her score is posted. A 14.6. I hold up a fist as she walks past me and she doesn’t break stride as she hits it with her own. She knows I need to run through my routine as much as possible. I go through it in my head again, letting my body imitate the motions of each skill, joining them together seamlessly while my feet are still on the ground.
The crowd murmurs in agitation, breaking through my visualization. Something happened on the beam. I let my eyes flicker up to it, and it’s Kareva setting herself for her dismount, but she looks rattled. There hadn’t been athwackof the mat, so she didn’t fall, but still …
“Huge bobble, and she almost put her hands down on the beam,” Janet says from beside me, quietly enough that no one will hear, except maybe the cameraman who’s no more than half a foot away at all times.
I nod and picture my dismount, tucking my arms into my chest, rotating as fast as I can before landing.
That’s it. That’s the routine I want.
I look up in time to see a 14.3 listed next to Kareva’s name.
Wow. That’s … that’s low, like my vault score low.
Kareva comes down from the podium and throws herself into a chair, ignoring her coaches as her teammate goes up to the beam.
Sheludenko’s strength is not beam. She almost never falls, but it’s rare she gets through a routine without almost falling, and that trend keeps up as she goes into her flight series and barely manages to stay on the beam when she lands her second layout step-out with her shoulders way out of alignment. Waving her arms furiously, she eventually manages to regain her balance, but that’s going to cost her majorly. She dismounts and salutes, but the twist of her mouth and the drop of her shoulders tell everyone in the arena that she didn’t do what she needed to.
I know it too. I just have to hit my connections. Hit my routine, and I can secure a bronze. A bronze medal in the all-around. Nope, wait, way too early. Can’t think about that right now.
Beam first, Audrey. Hit your connections.
The crowd erupts in applause, and it’s for Sun Luli, who must have hit her routine. Good for her after that fall on bars. I hope she finishes strong, but, you know, maybe not too strong.
I’m next, and I fist-bump her as we pass on the stairs to the podium, and damn, they gave her a 15.0 for that routine. That’s very strong.
But I can be just as strong.
Chelsea is setting up my springboard, and she moves to me, staring me dead in the eye. “Do the thing, Cap.”
“Damn straight.”
Then she’s gone, down off the podium just as the judges give me the green light.
Saluting with a small smile on my face, I begin.
