“Do you know what happened at trials? I was so stupid. I thought,I’m on the team now. He can’t touch me anymore. What’s he going to do, kick me off?and then he justdid.” She stops and takes a rattling breath. “I guess I should be grateful for that, that he fucked up enough to get caught, but now half the world thinks I cheated. Shit, half this team thinks I cheated, test results be damned, and that I’m making this up just to get back at him.”
“They’re idiots,” I say.
Dani laughs.
Chelsea nods. “She’s right. They are, and you’re an amazing gymnast, and you’re going to go to the Olympics and dominate.”
“Ladies?” Mrs. Jackson calls from back at the house. The click of her ever-present stiletto heels is the tick of a countdown as she approaches. “I know it’s difficult,” she says, stopping behind us, “but the others have left for the gym, and we have a schedule to keep.”
Dani sniffs and pulls her hands free from ours, wiping at the tears I hadn’t noticed streaming down her cheeks. “We’re ready to go.”
“Are you sure?” I mumble as we stand. The nylon fabric of my track pants slides down to my ankles, sticking against my damp skin.
Straightening her shoulders, Dani nods, her eyes flashing in determination. “Yes.”
Janet is already at the gym with the judges who will be evaluating us during the competition this morning. Emma, Sierra, and Jaime are stretching out on the floor and laughing together like they don’t have a care in the world, like Dani hasn’t just had an emotional punch to the gut, like this is another practice and not the competition that will determine the rest of our lives. A trip to Tokyo as a member of the best team in the world, the runaway favorites to win the team gold medal, or as an alternate, doomed to watch someone else achieve your dreams. My annoyance with Emma flares to life again. It must be nice to be able to ignore all that.
Cameras are mounted near each of the events, lights hung from the ceiling, and cameramen dressed in all black milling around too. Everything needs to be on the up-and-up, as Mrs. Jackson has said over and over again this week. All of our performances need to be out there for the world to see. The girls who perform the best today will make the team. Nothing more, nothing less.
Chelsea, Dani, and I move onto the floor and jog around it quickly, circling our arms and warming up. As we come to a stop a few feet away from the other girls, Leo edges over, stopping to bend down and tie his shoelace. With the cameras around, he’s not taking any chances.
“She okay?” he whispers, not looking up from his sneaker.
“Yes.”
His eyes flicker toward Emma and the others before looking up to me. “Areyouokay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He stands and immediately moves off back toward the small set of bleachers against the wall, and we run through team warm-ups led by Chelsea and Emma—we haven’t named a team captain yet, but if we had to vote today, I have a pretty decent feeling the vote would be split down the middle.
Finally, Janet claps her hands together and we jog to her. “Okay, ladies, Olympic order today: vault, bars, beam, floor. But before we begin, I just want to say that you have all worked tremendously hard these last few weeks under perhaps the worst circumstances I can imagine. Don’t let the results of today, no matter what they may be, change what you know to be true about yourself. You deserve to be here. All of you.”
There’s a softness in her voice, a warmth that I’ve never felt directed at me before a competition, and it’s … wonderful, but then she straightens her shoulders and the moment passes.
“Okay, hands in. USA on three. One, two, three …”
“USA!” we all shout together.
“Now let’s get started.” Janet nods to the judges, who take their seats beside the vault.
I recognize them from competitions over the years, but none of them were at nationals or trials. A fresh set of eyes might be a good thing, but who knows? These people could be the Sierra Montgomery Official Fan Club, for all I know. I just have to go out and prove I’m better than her.
We sprint down the carpet to the end of the vault run. This feels good, familiar, even if it is the first competition I’ve been to without Gibby in charge or Pauline coaching me or Emma rooting for me.
Ugh, Audrey, don’t do this.
I shake my head, literally. I hate to admit it, but Janet was right. Physically shaking negative thinking out has actually worked. I can’t think about all the things that have gone wrong up until now. I can’t think about anything other than the four routines that will decide the rest of my gymnastics career—or lack thereof.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to something that has never happened before!”
My head snaps around. There’s an announcers’ booth nestled into the corner of the gym, and I cannot believe I didn’t see it. The network logo is stamped across the front, and two reporters I recognize from our major competitions are seated behind it with headsets and microphones. The gym is practically empty. Every word is loud and clear as we run through our warm-up vaults.
The announcer continues his opening monologue, “We’re coming to you live from Olympic training camp, where after days of seclusion following the arrest of the team’s head coach, Christopher Gibson, these young athletes will be competing for the right to represent the United States of America at the Olympic Games.”
Yeah, that’s not going to be distracting at all.
