Prologue
Teagan
“Go fuck yourself,” I say to Blake Yelle, renowned retired gymnast and current asshole judge who’s docked me half a point for my bra strap showing during my floor routine.
Which is complete and utter bullshit. Especially considering that if I want to compete at nationals, I need to win this qualifier.
Yelle raises his grey eyebrows so high, they almost reach what must have once been his hairline, as things go eerily silent around us.
“Teagan,” Coach Samuels scolds.
“Excuse me, Ms. Witt?” Yelle says with a look of disbelief.
I’ll gladly say it again.
“Go. Fuck. Yourself,” I enunciate each word slowly, ensuring he hears exactly what I said this time.
I’m an elite athlete, with the accolades to prove it. In no lifetime am I letting something as trivial as a bra strap slip ruin my chances at going to another Olympics.
“I’m deducting another point for behaviour now,” Blake announces as he writes the deduction on my scorecard.
I open my mouth to retort when Coach places a hand on my shoulder, lightly guiding me away. My irritation nearly boils over,and it takes everything in me to follow him out of the arena without protest. I can feel the eyes of the crowd on us, adding embarrassment to the list of emotions I’m currently feeling.
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” he snaps once we’re alone in the quiet hallway. “Now you’ve lost more points than you needed to, which not only affects your score, but this entire team’s.”
“Are you kidding me? He deducted me half a point because mybrastrap was showing. Do we live in the 1800s? I was throwing my body into the air. Controlling my bra straps’ movements was the least of my worries,” I reply through gritted teeth so I don’t yell at him too.
“Why aren’t you wearing a bra with clear bra straps, as recommended?” he asks, ignoring the heart of the issue.
I know about the recommended clear bra straps, but I always wear my lucky blue sports bra during competitions. I’ve never lost with it.
Until today.
Of all days, it had to be qualifier day. Today was meant to secure my spot on this team that will attend the USA nationals next summer and get me to the 2028 Olympics.
“That’s not the problem right now. Why didn’t you stand up for me?” I fire back at him, my hands on my hips.
Current situation aside, Coach Samuels has always been someone I’ve looked to for guidance. He’s known me since I started gymnastics and usually goes to bat for me. So this seems off character for him.
His gaze hardens at my confrontational tone, but before he gets to say anything, Amy, our assistant coach, approaches us.
“Teagan.”
“Not you too,” I groan as my hands lift off my hips and ball into fists. “Aren’t you pissed about this, too?”
“While I do think it is an archaic rule, it’s a rule nonetheless,” she says gently, her expression full of pity.
“This is such bullshit,” I curse under my breath. Before I look away, I catch the two of them exchanging a decisive glance.
No fucking way.
My entire body goes numb. “You can’t kick me off the team,” I manage to say despite the large ball of emotion in my throat. I’m hoping I misread their glances and they’ll just give me a warning, because Ican’tlose this.
Gymnastics makes up everything I am, and I don’t know what I’d do without it.
Besides, they would be idiots to suspend me when I hold the highest score on the team.
“Teagan,” Amy says softly. I know she means well and wants to keep the peace, but I’m past keeping calm.
