Letters to Nowhere(27)

“Again,” she said.

This continued ten more times. Luckily this skill had no impact on my sore shoulder and provided a nice break from doing full beam routine.

“One more time,” Nina said. “Make sure your chest is up when you land.”

One more time led to another ten attempts with me applying the correction she’d given me. By that time, Coach Bentley was much closer to us and several of the other girls were watching to see what Nina was up to. Usually we only trained routines at camp, not new skills. They didn’t want to see something that wasn’t ready for competition. There was no time for that.

“Now, let’s take it up there.” She pointed to the high beam that had a sixteen–inch crash mat under it. The extra mat was better than nothing, but there was still a big gap between the beam and the mat.

In reality, there was no difference between the low beam and high beam. If you could perform a skill six inches above the ground, then you could do it twenty feet above the ground. It became a mental game.

I hopped up onto the beam and expected to feel my legs shake with fear, but they didn’t. Instead I had that rush of adrenaline that I craved so much lately. I could feel the skill practically tingling through my fingertips.

“Nina, I don’t think—” Bentley started to say, but Nina held up a hand right away to shut him up.

“Don’t baby her, Henry,” she snapped.

Only Nina Jones would get away with calling Coach Bentley by his first name.

I stood in the center of the high beam, raising my arms to prepare. I felt the weight of their eyes on me. Then I just went for it, landing with a thud back on the beam. I wobbled and one leg even came all the way out to the side as I tried to regain balance. Eventually, I bent my knees and held myself in place.

Now my legs were shaking. I couldn’t even look at Blair or Stevie and especially not Bentley. If they looked totally shocked, then I was likely to start freaking and never do it again, and I had a feeling that Nina—

“Again!” Nina said.

So, I did it again. After ten tries—three falls and seven successful landings—she had me come down and start reciting all the skills in my current routine. It only took me a second to realize she was looking for a place to put this move.

“After the straddle jump, in the middle of your routine, add the tucked full,” Nina said.

I didn’t wait for Bentley to protest or even give him a chance. I stood facing the high beam, ready to do my press handstand mount. The rush of excitement running through my veins drowned out all other thoughts. The good and the bad.

I got to the tucked full in the middle of my routine and performed it well, but fell off after wobbling for a few seconds.

“Start over,” Nina barked.

The second time through, I made the tucked full and it took all the focus in me to not smile or cheer since I still had half a routine to finish. Instead, I plunged myself into the next skill. But the emotional high, the shift in my world caused my focus to slip and outside noise I usually tuned out broke through my bubble.

“The American Cup in April could be a trial run for her,” one of Nina’s sidekicks said.

“We needed another five–tenths of difficulty for the team beam score at Pan Am championships,” the other one said. “I thought we’d have to upgrade everyone’s jumps and turns, but she just racked up seven–tenths for us with one move.”

“Which would also be fantastic for Worlds next fall,” Nina said.

Oh my God, Mom is going to freak when she hears this!

I stood at the end of the beam, completing the full turn right before my double pike dismount, but suddenly reality hit and glued me to my spot. The fog of adrenaline melted. I tried to draw in a breath but couldn’t. The end of the beam blurred in front of me.

No, not this again. Not now.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. My legs collapsed underneath me. I sat right down on the beam, my forehead hitting my knees, the room swaying around me.

“Karen?” Stevie. It’s Stevie.

“Are you okay?” And Blair.

“I can’t breathe,” I whispered.

Stevie pulled me down to my feet and before I even realized what was happening, she and Blair were leading me into the training room.

“I think she’s hyperventilating,” Stevie said.

I am? How did that happen?

“God, Karen!” Blair said. “What happened? You were doing so amazing. Did you hear them talking?”

Sweat trickled down my neck and back. I lifted myself onto the table, feeling nothing but panic as air refused to enter my lungs.

“She’s white as a ghost,” Bentley said, rushing in with the team doctor. “Karen, is this like what happened to you before? Or is it something else?”

Through the panic, I knew what he was asking—Is this like the time I saw the urns or do I actually have medical problems that need 9–1–1 assistance?

“It’s like before,” I managed to say.

I clutched my chest, knotting my leotard between my fingers, willing myself to take a breath. After a two–second glance at Coach Bentley’s worried expression and my teammates’ near panicked faces, I passed out.

And with that, I proved to Nina and the rest of the committee that mentally, I wasn’t anywhere near ready for a major international competition in the future.