Letters to Nowhere(73)

“Let me see your arm, Jordan,” Ally said. “ER doctors are so incompetent when it comes to dislocations.”

“Actually, Coach Bentley did it himself,” Jordan said.

Ally’s eyebrows lifted. “Then you’re fine, I’m sure. Of course, he’d get sued if it was anyone but his own kid.”

“I’m done with you girls!” Stacey yelled over her shoulder. “See you at three, and do not stuff those leos in your gym bags. There’s a purpose for that hanger it came on.”

Ally was carefully removing the splint from Jordan’s arm, examining it closely.

“If you guys are done,” Jordan said. “There’s a big guy in the lobby waiting for you.”

The four of us looked at each other and then Blair’s face brightened. “Oh! Coach Cordes is here, he’s having lunch with my parents today. I guess I should have figured he’d stop by the gym.”

“He’s in town?” My stomach wadded up into a ball of knots. “I didn’t know that.”

Blair turned me around, giving me her I’m–trying–to–mentally–tell–you–something face. And then it dawned on me. He’s having lunch with her parents…UCLA probably has a meet in Iowa or Illinois this weekend. He’s recruiting.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled.

“I know,” Blair said. “I can’t jinx it, but seriously, you’ll be two years ahead of me. Promise you won’t get too attached to your roommate so we can be college roomies, please, please, please.”

I smiled at Blair, and before we could even enter the lobby, Coach Cordes walked right into the training room. He was a big guy and famous for his giant bear hugs. Ellen and Blair got the first hugs. Stevie was a little old for it, I guess, because she got a one–armed awkward hug. “I’m so glad to see you back in the gym, Stevie,” he said.

I got lifted off my feet. Then, when he set me down and held on to my hands, sure enough, there was the dead parents face. We had talked on the phone right after it happened, and I hardly remembered what he’d said because I was trying so hard not to cry on the phone with my old/future coach.

“Karen, honey, how are you?” He even leaned down and was practically eye–level with me.

“Fine—I mean, okay, I guess.” There were too many people in the room for my body to even process the idea of shedding a tear, and I’d done this so many times already that it wasn’t nearly as hard as that day on the phone.

Blair slung an arm around my shoulders. “She’s great, actually, kicking some serious ass in the gym.”

A grin spread across his face. “That’s what I like to hear, as your former and future coach. I thought you might have taken some time off.”

I hadn’t taken any time off. I was back in the gym the day after my parents’ funeral.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cordes said, after I didn’t respond. “You still have plenty of time to get those old skills ready for UCLA. No one will be in top form when we start practices in June. Lydia, our beam coach, can’t wait to get her hands on you. We’ve been struggling on that event this season.”

June. Here it was again.

Stevie made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snort, but I couldn’t understand why she’d be laughing right now. “Karen’s done a lot more than maintain her old skills. You should see her bar routine. She’s got an Amanar and a layout Jaeger, a tucked full on beam . . .”

My face felt hotter than hell and I turned to Stevie, glaring at her and hoping she’d shut up. She’d made it sound like those skills were a sure thing, and Bentley hadn’t confirmed I’d be competing any of them. Ever. I already gotten into UCLA based on my old skills. I didn’t want to come there with all these extra expectations. What if Cordes started bragging to the other coaches about these new skills, and then I couldn’t even do them anymore in a year and a half?


March 31

Stevie,




Sometimes you don’t know when to shut up! Is this because you were homeschooled? I’m going to make you a progress chart and you’re going to master the skill of minding your own gymnastics business!




Love, Karen




Cordes’s face scrunched up and he stared at me. “Wait, you changed your routines?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Nothing’s definite. If I stick my old routines, then Bentley lets me work on new skills, that’s all. Just like always.”

‘You should see how high her vault is,” Ellen squealed. “It’s like McKayla Maroney high.”

God, not Ellen, too!

I could feel Jordan’s eyes on the back of my head. He was seated at one of the training tables, still getting his arm examined. Stacey seemed to have stopped talking right then, too, and gave Cordes a smile and a wave.

“Did you hear about Ellen’s meet in Australia?” I said, since we were obviously playing the talk–about–your–teammate game. “She won all–around and floor.”

Cordes gave Ellen a high five and she beamed, flashing her smile full of braces. “Great job, E. So proud of you!” Then he turned back to me. “Karen, honey, you can be NCAA National all–around champion with a Yurchenko full or a one and a half. There’s always been a chance we’d water down that double. You certainly don’t need an Amanar.”