I feel the same flood of adrenaline and desperate sense of longing I felt when I first fought for the coaching job at Summit. It’s not a new feeling, either; I remember the tangled rush of emotions from my own gymnastics career. Wanting things—wanting things so badly, my heart races and the hair on my arms stands on end—makes me feel alive and full of energy. Right now, I feel like I could stick a double-twisting layout flyaway off the high bar.
I’m not naïve—I don’t expect two former athletes to change the sport overnight. But if gymnastics taught me anything, it’s that if you work long and hard at something, astronomical, unfathomable success can be yours.
When Jasmine tapes up the final box, we carry everything downstairs to the foyer so the movers can pick them up later this afternoon. (All those years of conditioning really did come in handy.) We sit on the cool tile floor in the front hallway, leaning against the cardboard boxes with our feet splayed out in front of us.
“Girl, thank you,” Jasmine says, exhausted.
“This? This was nothing,” I say truthfully.
I’m happy to help her with whatever she needs. She should know that by now.
“I don’t mean just the boxes,” she says. “That was clutch, but I mean everything—the boxes, your friendship, this idea. It’s a big idea.”
“It is,” I admit. “And there’s nobody better in the world to do it with. It has to be you and me.”
Suddenly, her eyes sparkle, and she bolts upright.
“Huddle up?” she asks mischievously.
The old memories of our competition ritual, our good-luck charm, come flooding back.
“Let’s huddle up,” I say, beaming.
We loop our arms around each other’s shoulders. I’m not sure what to say.
“We can do this,” she declares.
I squeeze her tighter and join in.
“We can do this, we can do this, we can do this,” we chant.
It feels like coming home.
• CHAPTER 27 •
It’s tough to focus at practice on Monday. When I’m working one-on-one with Hallie—warming up, drilling tumbling, fine-tuning her techniques on floor—I feel present. But otherwise, my head is adrift. I clean crash mats and wonder about Jasmine’s move out of Dimitri’s house; I organize the supply closet and daydream about the Elite Gymnastics Foundation. The idea felt fresh and exciting when I first came up with it, but here, at Summit, it feels even crisper. I watch Hallie sprint down the vault runway and catapult herself through the air, and my heart surges with the desire to protect her. Brainstorming with Jasmine felt more abstract, but here, it’s impossible to ignore the very real person at risk right in front of me.
That’s why I have to talk to Ryan. I can’t sit by and watch as he takes Hallie into a dangerous situation. Arguing with him didn’t work the first time, but maybe then, I didn’t give it all the effort I had—maybe I held back out of fear of damaging our relationship. That’s not a concern I have anymore, obviously. If he ignores one last-ditch effort to deter him from joining Dimitri, then at least I can say I’ve truly tried my best. But I have to try now, before it’s too late.
After Hallie has left for the night, I wait for Ryan. I sit on the stairs in the lobby that lead up to the second floor, which positions me with the best view: from here, I can see half the lobby, the door to the gym, the door to the office, the door to the bathrooms, and the exit. No matter where Ryan is, I’ll be able to catch him. Sure enough, two minutes later, he rounds the corner from the office.
“Wait!” I call, springing up from my seat on the stairs.
“Hey,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you,” I say.
He looks surprised. “Oh! Believe it or not, I was actually coming to find you.”
“Why?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “There’s something I’m hoping to get your opinion on. If you’re open to talking to me about it.”
This is practically the most communication we’ve had all day.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He’s piqued my curiosity.
“You first,” he says. “Let’s sit in the office?”
We sit down. I gear up to tell him what’s on my mind, but my thoughts get tangled—I don’t know where to start. So much has changed since our breakup: my renewed friendship with Jasmine, her separation from Dimitri, what I can only imagine is Ryan drawing further into Dimitri’s inner circle.
“So, you might know that Jasmine and I are close again?” I start.
“I’ve heard,” he says, nodding.
“We’ve been talking a lot about how the culture of gymnastics at this level is just totally messed up, particularly for girls,” I explain. “I mean, even injuries aside, there are the issues with food and body image, mental health, sexual assault… and we want to do something about it.”
“That’s great,” he says.
“We’re launching a support network,” I continue. “We’re calling it the Elite Gymnastics Foundation. We’ll connect gymnasts to mental health professionals.”
“Impressive,” he says. “You’re the perfect people to make that happen.”
His compliment warms me, but I can’t let it soften me toward him.
“Well, you might want to wait before you start saying nice things to me,” I warn. This is my last-ditch attempt to get him to listen to me: “I need you to turn down the Powerhouse job.”
He looks surprised.
“So, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I went to Powerhouse on my lunch break today. It was… intense.”
I purse my lips. “I’m sure it was.”
“I’ve heard your stories about what it was like to have him as your coach, but seeing it firsthand felt different,” he explains. “I didn’t like the way he treated his gymnasts. He made fun of them for getting winded during conditioning; he called them ‘sloppy,’ ‘lazy,’ ‘useless.’ He came up with these absurd punishments, like running laps for falling off beam during just a regular practice.”
“I don’t want to say I told you so, but… Ryan, come on, what did you expect?” I ask.
“It made me have serious doubts about taking the job,” he admits.
I’m shocked but hopeful.
“Well, obviously, you know what I think,” I say.
“I guess I just wanted to confirm with you—do you think what I saw today was a one-off, bad day? Or is that who he really is?” he asks, squinting like he already knows the answer.
“That’s just him,” I say.
Ryan leans his elbows onto the desk and presses his fingers to his temples. He exhales a ragged sigh.
“Okay, then,” he says, more to himself than to me, with a small shake of his head. He looks up at me with a resigned expression. “Then that’s that.”
There’s too much at stake for me to jump to conclusions.
“That’s… what?” I clarify.
“I can’t take the job,” he says.
I’m reeling at how quickly he changed his mind. I can’t wait to tell Jasmine. I almost can’t quite believe that I’m hearing him correctly. Despite how much I hoped Ryan would come around, deep down, I don’t know if I ever really believed he would.