Letters to Nowhere(28)

What could have ended as my best training camp ever, turned out to be the worst ever. Not just for me, but for my entire team and Coach Bentley.

***


February 15

Mom,




Thank you for being the kind of mom that wouldn’t have been angry or disappointed at me for screwing up royally at a very important moment. That’s why I fell apart this weekend. I used to always know that I could text you from camp and tell you everything, good or bad, and you’d make me feel better. The way you would make fun of Nina Jones or me for always being so serious about everything. I think Dad would, too, if I gave him all the details I gave you, but I always want him to think I’m unbreakable, even if I’m not.




Love, Karen




Coach Bentley and I walked through the front door of his town house, exhausted and defeated. Neither of us had been in the mood to talk for the last seven or eight hours. He carried my suitcase up the stairs and I trudged after him.

“What the hell,” Bentley muttered. “Jordan!”

Jordan’s bedroom door flew open and he stepped into the hallway, grinning at me. “Like it?”

I finally got a glimpse of what Bentley was shouting about. My bedroom furniture had been exchanged for Jordan’s mismatched twin bed and dresser. The twin bed in my new room was covered with the blanket I had been using in the closet. There were no more boxes lying around. My clothes were hanging in the closet, all of the trophies and various items from my old room were nowhere to be found.

I stared at Jordan, my eyes wide. He knew. Something I said the other night must have tipped him off.

“Fix this now,” Bentley boomed. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s all right,” Jordan said. “Karen agreed to this. She lost a bet. I won her furniture fair and square.”

“He’s right.” I stepped into the room inhaling deeply and feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. “A deal’s a deal.”

Bentley shook his head as if to say he had enough to worry about without adding Jordan’s interior design projects to the list. Then he left us to go and chat with Mrs. Garrett downstairs. Jordan came into my room and shut the door behind him.

“How did you know?” I asked immediately. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply again and smelling something brand new. A new start.

“I came in to tell you something the other night and you were sound asleep in the closet,” he said. “And then when you told me on the phone, about memories being haunting, I just thought… It smells like home to you, right?”

I nodded my answer, afraid to test the steadiness of my voice. I had held so much in since having a panic attack during last night’s workout. Everyone had looked at me like I belonged in the loony bin, so I hadn’t wanted to break down in sobs to add to the rumors.

The fact that Jordan had managed to bring my spirits up after that horrible ending to camp was just amazing. I moved closer and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him in the middle.

“Thank you,” I whispered. This time I had actually said it out loud rather than in a letter I’d never send.

But hugging a boy was very out of character for me, so of course I let go and backed away before he even had a chance to return the hug.

“What happened at camp?”

I sat down on the bed. “The National Committee…they were talking about me, in the middle of my beam routine. Basically the beam routine of my life. They went on about how valuable I would be to the Pan Am team and maybe the World team.”

He joined me on the bed, putting a decent amount of space between us so we could turn and face each other. “And then you fell off the beam, or what?”

“I just froze. It was probably the single greatest moment of my entire life and…and . . .” I sucked in a shaky breath, holding back tears. “It hit me that I didn’t have anyone to call and tell the good news to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And needless to say, when they announced the three girls who would represent the USA at the American Cup in April, none of Coach Bentley’s girls made the cut.” Honestly, I hadn’t expected to get picked anyway, but they had dangled the possibility in front of me and I wanted it. For a few minutes, I wanted it so bad.

I flopped onto my stomach, pressing my face into the pillow. “I really screwed up, Jordan. I might not be able to convince them I’m anything but a mental disaster.”

“What did my dad say?”

“Nothing. He’s hardly spoken ten words to me since last night. I don’t think he knows what to say. It’s not anything he can fix or help me through, you know? That’s what therapy is supposed to do.”

He was quiet for a minute, then he grabbed my ankle and tugged on it. “Get up. Put on some clothes that aren’t made for comfort.”

I raised my head. “Why? Where are we going?”

He grinned at me. “To a party.”

“I just want to go to sleep for twenty hours and forget about this weekend.” I put the pillow over my head, but Jordan yanked it off.

“Come on, Campbell, don’t be a baby,” he said. “You’ll just end up lying in bed crying all night instead of finding a healthy distraction.”

I sat up and glared at him. “Where is this party, anyway?”