Sarah smirked at Beth’s response. She was right. Sarah had enjoyed it, not only the observing of the teenage panic of being caught doing something you shouldn’t, but getting to show up as an adult in the way she wished someone had shown up for her when she had been the girls’ age.
Sarah 9:15 AM
You know me so well.
SEVEN
LILY
SEPTEMBER
Lily stood firmly behind the opinion that all gymnastics gyms smelled the same. She had yet to step foot in one that proved her theory wrong. The smell was a specific mix of industrial sanitizer and chalk dust that perfectly permeated every article of clothing she owned. She loved it.
She pushed through the metal doors of PGTC, that same familiar scent filling her nostrils. Her former coach, Amanda Fitz-Simmons, sat behind the large desk situated at the front of the lobby.
“Hey, Amanda!” Lily said, stopping by the desk and reaching into her bag, fishing out the envelope her mom had given her this morning. “My mom wanted me to give you this. It’s a check to cover my gym time for the last couple of weeks. And she insists you take it this time.”
The choice not to return to college that year had come with some sacrifices—sacrifices Lily carefully weighed before making her final decision. She knew not returning to school meant returning to PGTC, which had been hard enough the first time in the months after Jamie’s death, and it was just as much of an adjustment being back there again.
Amanda plucked the envelope from her hand, opened it, and scanned the check. “Tell your mom I took it, and that you’re paid through the end of the year.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. See, Amanda used to date her aunt Kelly. And with what Lily had pieced together from overheard hushed conversations between the adults in her life, it hadn’t exactly been a smooth breakup. But Lily would have guessed that anyway based on the fact that her aunt, who had lived with them for over a year, was just gone one morning, leaving behind a note that said, “The whales are calling.”
But that had kind of been her aunt’s vibe for as long as Lily could remember, so she wasn’t shocked.
“How about you two talk so I don’t have to be the messenger? I’m here to get my physical therapy done for the day.”
“Rehab still going well? Still making progress? Feeling good?” Amanda asked.
Lily liked Amanda, she really did. But Amanda wasn’t Jamie. They had never clicked in the same way she and Jamie had, but she still had an appreciation for the coach Amanda had been to her and how, even now, she tried to fill the gap left by Jamie’s absence.
“Yeah, things are good. I find out if I get to lose the boot at my check-in appointment later today.” Lily gestured to the clunky medical boot strapped to her left ankle. “Thanks for asking.” She made to head into the gym, but Amanda stopped her.
“And your headspace? An injury like yours can really mess with your mindset.”
Lily paused, thinking of a response to give that would fulfill Amanda’s curiosity without giving herself away. Because the truth was, she was only okay. Not great, but also could be worse.
“I’m doing really well,” she lied. “Everything feels really manageable. And I’m seeing that sports psychologist you recommended.”
“Oh, good. She’s great. I’m glad to hear that. Keep me posted on how things are with your appointment,” Amanda said, eyes shifting back to the computer screen in front of her.
Lily nodded, moving toward the weight room off the main gym area. Nine weeks post-op, and she was hopeful today she’d get the all clear from her doctor to graduate from this stupid boot.
She peeled off her hoodie and set it on top of her gym bag. She grabbed her tablet, water, and headphones, then climbed onto the stationary bike, beginning to pedal while opening the spreadsheet she had created to track her recovery.
Was it over the top? Probably. But she knew herself well enough to realize she needed a visual measure of her progress. Dylan had helped her make it when Lily was still bed-bound and recovering following her surgery—perks of having a best friend who happened to be a genius with a spreadsheet.
As she pedaled, Lily tapped the tab marked Daily Check In and filled in the open fields before tapping back to the main dashboard. She and Dylan had figured out how to set up the file so that everything updated automatically from sheet to sheet. Dylan—to her credit—had added progress bars on a week-by-week view. It was incredibly satisfying and helped ease some of her anxiety. Plus, knowledge was power and all that.
She moved through her approved physical therapy exercises, checking them off on her tablet one by one, making her way down the list. But as she finished, she was struck by a sudden curiosity. With her boot still off, Lily examined her ankle in the mirror, her stomach twisting at the noticeable mismatch in the musculature between her left and right legs that now existed.
It’s okay. It’s part of the process, Lily tried to tell herself over the sound of Velcro pulling apart as she slipped the boot back on. Her phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime; her mood instantly lifted at the sight of Wren’s picture flashing across thescreen. Lily almost dropped the phone as she tried to answer it, her excitement getting the best of her.
“Guess who’s finally back in town!?” Wren said animatedly, the frame of her video shaking slightly as she propped the phone up so Lily could see her. Her dark curls were draped over her shoulder, contrasting with the cropped, plain white T-shirt she wore and the sweatpants slung low on her hips.
“Oh, that’s a tough one,” Lily teased, catching Wren’s smile. “Could it possibly be my superstar girlfriend who is finally back from one epic winning?—”
“Don’t say it! It’s bad luck to acknowledge!” Wren said quickly. “But yeah, Sydney and I just got back to the apartment. I need a shower and then I’ve got those plans later, remember? The ones I told you about.”
