With a quietsnick, the door to the gym closes behind our coaches and the rest of the NGC staff after she smoothly, and with minimal protest, ejects them from the room. The cavernous training gym is almost empty now. Standing in front of the beam, my eyes swing from that door back to the head of the USOF and wait for her to begin.
“Ladies,” Mrs. Jackson says, smiling widely at us, her teeth bright and shiny against her deep purple lipstick. “First, I want to thank you. Your years of hard work and dedication have brought you to this point. Hundreds of thousands of young girls dream of getting to where you are right now, but only a few ever make it to the Olympic team.”
My head is buzzing with her words. She means well, I’m sure, trying to take the sting out of whatever is coming next, but what could it be? So far, we’ve got a fake doping scandal and sexual assault. What’s next? Murder? Emma’s hand creeps into mine and squeezes tight.
“You’ve all worked so hard over the years and bonded with your coaches in a way that most people will never understand, spending more time with them than perhaps even your families, and that’s why this next part is so difficult. The USOF has been made aware of some concerning information regarding the NGC’s response to Coach Gibson’s behavior and subsequent arrest. That also extends to the conduct of your personal coaches.”
My breath catches, and, panicked, I look back to the door where Pauline and the other coaches left just a minute ago. Then my eyes meet Emma’s. They’ve gone wide, and her mouth has actually dropped open in shock.
“What do you mean?” Chelsea asks.
“Obviously, it’s an ongoing investigation, but what I can tell you is when the athlete in question’s—”
“Dani,” Chelsea cuts in, and Mrs. Jackson raises her eyebrows but nods.
“Yes. When Ms. Olivero’s tests were delivered to Mr. Gibson, despite there being no positive results for any banned substances, he followed the doping protocol we have in place. He called a committee meeting to review the results. Your coaches and the NGC officials present here were all a part of the committee that signed off on Ms. Olivero’s suspension from the team despite there being no credible evidence to support a failed drug test.”
My knees start to weaken as Mrs. Jackson speaks, and bile rises in my throat, burning as I swallow it back.
Our coaches lied.
Pauline lied.
I don’t want to believe it, but it all rings so very true. From back at trials and Gibby’s speech about keeping NGC business within the NGC to Pauline’s nerves during my interview with the FBI, even to the show of unity this morning before we got started.
Mrs. Jackson has more to say, and I refocus on her.
“The USOF has made the unprecedented decision to immediately suspend the NGC as a national governing body until at least after the Olympic Games. Going forward, I will be supervising your training along with a new USOF-appointed coach. I have all the confidence in the world in you as athletes, and though it will be difficult, I know you can get through this as a team. It’s unfortunate that we have to go to these extreme measures, but please understand we cannot allow the complicity of those whose sole focus should have been your well-being to go unpunished.”
Maybe I’m in shock. Maybe it’s all finally become too much, and my brain can’t deal with the rest of it, but I blurt out, “Can we talk to them? Our coaches, I mean.” She pins me in place with her eyes. “Sorry,” I whisper.
At that, her expression softens a touch.
“I’m sorry, Audrey. We’ve been advised by the FBI not to allow any further contact with your coaches at this time.”
Chelsea clears her throat beside me. “Who is going to coach us, then?”
“You’ll be introduced to your coach when we arrive at your new training facility. Rest assured, she will not only be able to prepare you for your Olympic journey, but she’s uniquely qualified to handle the trauma you all have been through the last few days. Pack your things, ladies; we leave in fifteen minutes.”
I’m still tossing my stuff into my bags when my door flies open. Emma slips inside and closes it behind her. For a moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing, but then our eyes meet.
Something in my chest cracks, and the tears spring into my eyes completely unbidden. I let out a choked sob. Every ounce of tension I’ve been shoving down in the past few days, maybe even since back at trials, bubbles to the surface and spills out in tears.
My legs give out, and I sit down on the bed, Emma falling in beside me a moment later. She pulls me straight into a hug, and we hang on tight. She’s the only one I’d ever let see me like this. We’ve been through so much together and we still have so far to go.
After a long, sniffly moment and a few hiccoughing, awkward laughs, I pull away.
“What are we gonna do?” I ask, wiping at the tears and trying to bring myself back under control with slow breathing.
“We’re gonna do whatever Tamara Jackson says,” she immediately answers, looking as unruffled as usual. “Liz”—so her nameisLiz—“might be in charge of the NGC with Gibby gone, but the head of the USOF definitely outranks her. We need to follow Mrs. Jackson’s lead, and everything will be okay.”
“Oh, will it?” I ask with a laugh. We thought that after Dani’s suspension and then Gibby’s arrest and now … now what is happening exactly? Is the USOF disbanding the NGC? That’s what it feels like. There’s a certainty in Emma’s voice, though—she sounds so sure of herself. Maybe if she believes that’s the right thing to do, I can let her believe it for the both of us.
“I told you, Mom. Pauline’s not with us.”
It takes everything in me not to choke on those words and burst into tears again, as the betrayal and confusion and disbelief wind their way through my veins.No time to cry about this anymore, Audrey; there’s way too much at stake. Don’t think about how your coach, the woman you trusted with your entire life, betrayed you and your dreams. Don’t think about how maybe it wasn’t just the one lie. Don’t think about every single moment when she pushed you a little too hard or let you do one more rep despite the agonizing pain. Don’t think about how maybe with a different coach, how maybe your back wouldn’t be this screwed up, about how maybe the person who was supposed to do what was best for you did what was best for herself instead.
Emma is sitting across from me. There were two of us and our coach pushed us both just as hard. My body broke down. Emma’s didn’t. And I’d never really thought about how maybe … maybe that didn’t have to happen. It still doesn’t feel possible that she could have done this, but obviously I didn’t know her as well as I thought.
