Emma’s feet pound down the runway, slamming into the springboard, up off the vault, and into the air, one, two and a half twists and landing. She takes a big hop, but it’s a good vault, as good as Dani’s.
Emma comes down from the podium, her face grim.
I reach out to hug her and she lets me, but it’s barely an embrace. She pulls away instantly and then yanks at her wrist guards.
We wait, but not for long.
Emma’s score is posted: a 15.0.
Identical to Dani’s, but that’s utterly meaningless to me.
It’s three full seconds before Emma’s score disappears, and I feel every single, solitary millisecond of them. My heart pounding, drowning out the sounds in the arena, no thundersticks, no music, no cheering, just the thump of my pulse as my mind spins off its axis.
The standings flash up for the world to see.
1.Audrey Lee
58.2
2.Daniela Olivero
57.6
3.Emma Sadowsky
