Letters to Nowhere(58)

Stevie and I both relaxed back into the couch. We wouldn’t have to face rejection today. Neither of us were juniors, thus not eligible for this competition.

“The committee and I have chosen Ellen and Kayla Dallas to represent the US.”

Ellen squealed beside me and I tossed an arm around her, giving her a little squeeze. Blair was on the far end of the couch, but from the corner of my eye, I could see her biting her nails, staying silent but hurt, I was sure. It might have been because of her leg, or it might have been because she wasn’t good enough in their eyes. I wasn’t sure which Blair preferred to be the truth, but I was betting on it being the injury.

“Congratulations, Ellen,” Nina said. “On to my next topic. Since nearly all the girls have decided to compete in Chicago the weekend before the American Cup, the National Committee and I have decided to hold the April training camp in Chicago at the competition arena. We’ll be doing a three–day verification meet, and from that we’ve decided to choose the six–member junior and senior teams for the Pan American Games in Rio this May.”

I could feel my pulse pounding with both excitement and anticipation. Pan Am games weren’t quite as competitive as the Olympics or World Championships, but they were a very big deal and run just like the Olympics, with several days of competition and multiple sports. And to have a chance to prove myself on a beam that wasn’t the one in Houston where I had nearly suffocated from that crazy panic attack—this could be huge for me. If they weren’t considering me for the team, I wouldn’t be in this Skype meeting right now.

“I just wanted to tell each of you the plan in person and to wish you luck. Making the Pan American team is a great honor, and the committee plans on fielding the best team possible. That means impressing international judges,” Nina said, then she looked right at me. “Karen, we’ll need a notarized letter from a legal guardian stating that you have permission to compete in Rio should you make the team. The old letter we have on file won’t be legal anymore. Please bring that with you to Chicago.”

Everyone stilled and tension filled the air in Bentley’s office. “Thank you, Nina,” Bentley said, pulling his chair in front of the monitor. “I’m sure the girls are all thrilled with the opportunity you’ve presented.”

He finished the conversation and ended the Skype session, then shooed us out of his office and into the hands of our very strict, very demanding dance teacher before any of us had the chance to absorb the news.

I couldn’t help wondering if Bentley had known about the possibility of all of us making the Pan Am team all along. I had been thinking of Chicago as a practice meet, a very important practice meet, but still a competition where I could throw a layout Jaeger on the bars and as long as it looked decent, it wouldn’t be a huge deal if I fell because they’d see that it was a work–in–progress. But now it seemed that the committee wasn’t looking for work–in–progress routines next month; they wanted polished, Rio–ready routines and maybe that was why Bentley had come down so hard on me with these new skills. He wanted me to play it safe in Chicago so I could have a chance at making the team. And maybe the whole dead parent thing made it hard for him to tell me no, and he needed to let me go through the process myself. But was I really good enough to make the team without the new stuff? It didn’t seem possible. And if I did make the team, would I come back from Rio and head right to UCLA?

***


Mom and Dad,




What if I want to stay an elite for a while longer? Would that be okay with you? I want to compete at Nationals this summer and try to make the World team. I know we talked about this until we’d beaten the subject to death, I know Coach Cordes was very straight with us when he said it would be a long shot and college gymnastics was the more secure plan, but I’ve changed. I can’t explain it in words yet, but something is different and I want it so bad. But at the same time, I want to make you happy and Coach Cordes, he spent years training me and taught me so much gymnastics and he’s planning on me being there. Please tell me what to do?




Love, Karen




Jackie,




Please can you just ask me about the panic attacks because I can’t bring them up on my own. Believe me, I’ve tried. And now, more than ever, I need to sort this out. I hate the nightmares and I hate the fear of losing control again like I did in Houston. Please make me talk about this.




Your “bff,” Karen



***

“Ready, Karen?”

I glanced up from my copy of Catcher in the Rye and saw Jackie smiling at me as a grouchy looking middle–aged woman shuffled out of Jackie’s office and toward the receptionist’s desk.

I stood up and she pointed at my book. “One of my favorites.”

“Required reading for English.”

She led me inside her flowery smelling office. “How are you today? What’s new in the world of elite gymnastics?”

The first twenty minutes of our session was spent updating her on Bentley’s current hard–ass attitude and the upcoming competition and the Skype session today. She just listened like this was the most interesting story ever.

“Coach Bentley really kicked you out of practice? And wait…did you say you drove home last night? I didn’t realize you had your license. I’ve noticed someone usually drops you off and picks you up here.” She flipped through her notebook, going back a bunch of pages.