Leo is over in the corner of the gym, working out on a leg machine. It’s kind of amazing that he’s here. It’s also super tempting. Maybe way too tempting, considering that his mom is now my coach.
Now is not the time, Audrey. Right now, the most important thing in your life has to be nailing that postpirouette handstand on the high bar, sticking your vaults and tumbling passes, and making sure your beam connections are super smooth and in rhythm. Nothing else matters. Not even Leo Adams.
One more bars routine, this time—according to Janet’s approving nod—a much more acceptable handstand prior to dismount, and we’re moving to beam. It’s not Gibby’s decision to make anymore, but beam is still where I need to improve my results from nationals and trials.
First step, solidifying my mount series, a roundoff, layout step-out onto the beam, and then two layout step-outs connected to it. A lightning-fast combination that to the naked eye will look as easy as if I’m flipping across the floor.
Emma goes first, her beam routine solid as usual. Everything about Emma’s gymnastics is solid and always has been. When we were younger, people kind of gave her crap for it. She was never the gymnast who would catch your eye, but she hits her routines, which, if you’ve ever watched elite gymnastics, you know is a rarity. Then last year she sort of steamrolled everyone with her solid gymnastics and the addition of some carefully placed, super-difficult elements. So, at the tail end of her routine, as she lines up about three-quarters of the way down the beam and laser-focuses on the end, I’m not the least bit surprised when the Arabian double front she launches herself into is stuck cold.
“Nice!” I cheer her on, and we high-five after she salutes.
I move toward the beam with a chunk of chalk to mark some of my placements.
Janet’s critique rings out in the nearly silent gym. “Your skills are solid, but watch your tempo. Olympic judges want to see flow on the beam, and as world champion, they’re not going to go easy on you. Difficulty can only go so far, Emma.” And then louder, to me, “Okay, Audrey, show me what you’ve got.”
Her words register, but they’re mostly buzz at this point. I set up the springboard and test it, falling forward toward the beam to make sure it’s the correct distance away. Then I take a few steps back to the end of the beam mat.
One breath and then two, and I’m running forward into a round-off, layout step-out. My first foot hits the beam, and the rest of my body follows before my back foot lands. My balance is solid, and I don’t even think before connecting it backward to another layout step-out and then another.
Good.
Another breath and a couple of leaps move me to the opposite end of the beam, and it’s time for my second series.
It’s supposed to be a triple turn connecting straight into a single L-turn—which is super hard because my leg is held out in front of me while I spin—and then from there a full illusion, where I kick my leg up and around, my whole body following it while I spin one full rotation. Each skill separately is tough, but together they make one of the hardest beam combinations in the world.
I release a slow breath and then go into the triple turn, which becomes a double when my shoulders come out of alignment into the L-turn, but I have to stop—my momentum isn’t controlled enough to connect it to the full illusion, and it’s either break the connection or fall.
Keeping the disappointment off my face is instinct at this point, trained into me as a kid, but that was definitely not what I wanted to do. I pause for a second to regain my balance fully and then complete the full illusion without a hitch.
“C’mon, Rey, you got it,” Emma’s voice breaks through, which forces me to refocus. Another huge combination is next, and after missing that previous connection, I need this one.
An aerial cartwheel, and I’m off balance again. I correct myself with a grimace, leaping into a switch split, changing legs in the air, and then a gainer back layout down to straddle the beam.
Damn it.
Everything needs to be seamless.
My final skill before the dismount is one that almost no one else does anymore: a one and a quarter turn on my back. It looks like a move out of a break-dancer’s repertoire, and it usually gets the crowd pumped up, but there’s no crowd right now. Just my new coach, who I definitely wanted to impress. So much for that.
I’m ready to dismount. I set myself, arms lifted above my head, and then I’m counting out my contact with the beam, one-two, one-two, hands-feet, hands-feet, into a triple twist, and I’m landing with a small step to the side.
Saluting, I look up through a stray hair that came loose from my ponytail. Janet’s face is stern but not unkind.
“Go on, Emma,” she says to my best friend, who shoots me a tight smile as she passes. When I finally reach her, Janet nods, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s okay, Audrey. We have time.”
I nod, but I’m mostly ignoring her, running through my routine in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong.
Janet’s voice yanks me out of it. “Shake it off,” she says, “literally. Whenever you’re unhappy with a routine or a skill, just shake your head a bit. Acknowledge it and then move on so you can refocus and improve next time out.”
My brow furrows deeper with every word. She’s my coach, and I have to do what she says, but honestly, it sounds like a load of crap. I shake my head.
“Good, now don’t stress. Like I said, we have time.”
Don’t stress? I blink at her in disbelief.
I’m not sure a coach has ever said that to me before and meant it. Stress is just sort of part of the gig, and I kind of like that I’ve been able to survive in the midst of its constant onslaught. Like back during worlds training camp a couple of years ago when Gibby’s final test before naming the team was to have us compete until a fall. He never said it out loud, but we knew the first person who broke was going to lose her spot on the team. I felt strong back then, for outlasting the other girls, but now it just seems incredibly fucked up.
We finish up on beam, my connections a little bit better in my second routine than in the first, but it still isn’t good enough.
