Letters to Nowhere(57)

Stevie looked over her shoulder at Patrick, too. “I’m adding a mat here, too. A four–inch.”

I knew what she was doing. It was a technique Nina Jones loved to push on us at training camps—tumbling up—landing higher than you needed to in competition to add amplitude. And something about looking down at the vault from the other end of the runway and seeing the landing surface raised, mentally tricked you into getting more height. It was like if someone swapped your hurdle on a track for one two feet higher, you’re automatically going to jump harder when you try to clear it.

After dragging another eight–inch mat into the pit, I attempted the new vault again and landed with only a small hop.

So did Stevie.

Ellen could sense the tension and didn’t say anything to either of us, just whistled under her breath a couple times and kept her eyes away from mine while continuing to do her Yurchenko doubles with no problem.

I wasn’t sure how close I actually was to doing this vault, but I figured it didn’t hurt to be going head–to–head with the vault world champion from two years ago. Unfortunately, my duel with Stevie didn’t allow me to notice Bentley exiting his office and reentering the gym. He waited until I returned to the end of the vault runway, joining me there before asking, “Did you do your doubles on the regular vault already?”

I felt my heart pounding, knowing I’d screwed up big–time. Again. “No, I—”

He turned his back to me and said, very low, “You owe me ten extra competition vaults tonight before doing any more of the new vaults into the pit.”

“Okay,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“Your run looks fantastic,” he added, then clapped his hands together and raised his voice so all four of us could hear. We were usually the only ones in the gym in the morning besides some preschool classes, and they had their own area. “Take a five–minute break, and then I need you in my office for a Skype with Nina Jones.”

We all looked at each other and Bentley just shrugged. “You’ll find out in five minutes, all right?”

Ellen bounded over to her mother in the viewing area. Ellen’s mom was meticulous about watching nearly every practice. It would have driven me nuts if my mom did that; now I couldn’t help the wistful feeling I had whenever I saw them together.

Stevie and Blair came up on either side of me as we walked to get drinks and snacks from our gym bags.

“How’s Jaren doing?” Stevie asked, lowering her voice, eyes dancing with amusement, like we hadn’t just been enemy competitors a few minutes ago.

“Jaren?” I asked.

“You know, Jordan and Karen,” Blair whispered.

“It’s our code name,” Stevie added. “For your relationship. Don’t want E or Bentley to hear us.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up and I dropped my eyes to the floor. “It’s not exactly a relationship. I mean, not yet. We text from our bedrooms. That’s pretty much it.”

Blair nudged her shoulder into mine. “Like sexting?”

“No!” I said even though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what actually defined sexting. Maybe that was something I could ask Jackie?

“Come on,” Blair pleaded. “We need more details. He was totally watching you last night during practice. I caught him looking our way several times when he was supposed to be teaching his classes.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “Probably trying to figure out why his dad decided to torment me.”

“Totally,” Blair agreed. “Bentley is so sneaky with the hard–ass coach stuff. He’s gradually hitting us with new corrections and then he has this way of making it sound like this was the plan all along and we just forgot.”

“Maybe it was the plan all along,” Stevie said, pulling a Kashi bar from her bag.

I sat on the floor and started peeling my banana. “I think he’s too nice to tell me I’m not good enough to add these new skills and he thinks I should figure it out on my own, and honestly, I wish he’d just tell me. Coach Cordes would have told me.”

Stevie’s eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to say something, but Bentley stuck his head out of his office and yelled for us to come in. My stomach tumbled with nerves and I dumped half my banana into the garbage can before springing to my feet.

“Sorry, just the girls,” Bentley said to Ellen’s mom, who had appeared behind Ellen at his office door.

Blair and I stifled giggles and dragged Ellen inside before her mom could fuss over her hair or tell her how to sit on the couch properly during a Skype with Nina Jones.

The office door was shut, leaving Ellen’s mom outside. The four of us squeezed onto the brown leather sofa behind the desk and watched Nina and her clipboard appear on Bentley’s monitor. He slid his desk chair to the side so we could see and he leaned back as if he wasn’t at all worried about this virtual meeting.

“Girls,” Nina said, getting right to the point. She doesn’t do hello. “First off, the March training camp is canceled.”

None of us said a word or made any kind of face, but I knew we were all cheering silently. I so wasn’t in the mood for Houston next weekend.

“We’ve decided to take two gymnasts to Australia for a junior competition at the end of the month,” Nina said.