I shake my head. “It’s the Kareva now, I guess.”
My phone goes off, and it’s a text from Leo. He’s still at the arena with Ben, watching the rest of qualifications. There’s no message, but he attached a video of Kareva since they’re sitting super close to the vault. It looks even better there.
The crowd is giving her a standing ovation, and I can’t lie, I kind of want to join them. It’s one hell of a vault, and Irina Kareva is a ridiculously talented gymnast.
The door to the suite opens, and Brooke’s dad-slash-coach and Sarah’s coach walk in and nod to us.
“Ladies,” Brooke’s dad says, briefly, but they walk right by us. It has to sting. They made a call, choosing to help their athletes qualify as individuals, keeping them away from the grueling NGC trials process. Honestly, though, even with no medals to show for it, it was probably the right decision. They kept Brooke and Sarah away from Gibby for more than a year. That’s worth more than any Olympic medal.
“Girls, it’s time,” Sarah’s coach says.
We stand up when they come into the common area.
“I’ll just get Emma,” I say, edging out of the room.
I knock gently at the door before opening it slowly. There’s a lump in the middle of her bed, completely covered by the blankets, rising and falling in a slow, even pattern.
“Em?” I whisper. “Em, Sarah and Brooke are leaving. Come say goodbye.”
Nothing. Not a hitch in her breathing or a groan of acknowledgment.
I glance behind me, where the others are waiting, and then back to Emma. She’ll regret not saying goodbye.
“Emma,” I try again, stepping fully into the room, my voice louder, trying to break through either the fog of actual sleep or her will to keep pretending.
Still nothing.
I guess that’s her answer.
I leave the room and shrug at Sarah and Brooke before giving them both a hug. “Sorry, she—”
“It’s okay,” Sarah says, nodding. “I get it.”
And after good lucks and wishes for safe travels are exchanged, they’re gone.
There’s a weird kind of emptiness in my gut. I’ve known them both for a long time, even if we were never super close, but now it’s just over for them, and I wonder if I’ll ever see either of them again. I’m finished with gymnastics after this, and I have no idea what their plans are for after the Games. Not that I have any idea whatmyplans are for after the Games.
“Cap, cut it out,” Chelsea says from the couch.
“What?” I ask, sitting back down, focusing my attention on the TV, where Russia has moved to bars.
“No getting in your own head, not now. We need all our focus on tomorrow.”
“How do you do that?” I ask, astounded at her ability to read me.
She shrugs. “Maybe you remind me of someone.”
“Damn, look at that,” Dani cuts in, nodding to where Kareva is swinging bars on the screen.
“You can beat her,” I say immediately, and I mean it. I’ve watched Dani training up close for nearly a month now. I know what she’s capable of. That mistake on bars today was a total fluke. That battle is going to be incredible, and I’m going to have a great view for it.
“First things first,” Chelsea says. “We need to beat all of them.” Her eyes dart over to the closed door. “Is she going to be able to get herself together?”
“I don’t know,” I say, “and I don’t think I’m exactly the right person to talk to her, but … I don’t know if …” I glance between them. Emma can’t be Dani’s favorite person, even after she came to her defense during that press conference, and Chelsea might just be a reminder of the all-around gold that, no matter what happens from here on out, won’t be Emma’s. “Maybe Janet or Mrs. Jackson could …”
I cut myself off as the door creaks open.
“Hey, guys,” Emma says, her competition makeup completely washed away, her eyes still red-rimmed, but a smile plastered across her face. I shift over on the couch, making room for her.
