Letters to Nowhere(95)

“That’s completely understandable,” Bentley said, nodding.

“And I want you to use the money and pay Jordan’s tuition to Stanford,” I said quickly, knowing I’d never come up with a better use for that unwanted cash.

He shook his head. “That’s amazing of you to think about him, but we’ll figure it out.”

I stood up and glanced around at the arena, watching it begin to fill with people. “He wants to go more than anything, and he’s never going to say that, you know he won’t. He wants to go and I want to give my money away. What’s the problem?”

Bentley stood up beside me and dusted off his pants. “We can talk about this later. After the meet.”

“I’ll tell you what…” I stared out at the uneven bars. “You wanted to know which Karen you’ll see today, so here’s the deal. I hit my routines and make the Pan Am team and you let me use my money to pay his tuition, and we both promise to never tell him.”

Bentley focused on the bars, too, arms crossed, forehead wrinkled.

“Come on,” I pleaded. “You know you want to prove to Nina that your girls know how to do handstands and all that crap you need me to do today.”

He glanced at me again. “I can’t do this. It’s not right.”

“It’s just money, Coach. Car accidents and terrorist attacks—those are things that can destroy your future. But not having enough money? That’s a problem we can get around.”

He exhaled, giving away his concession. “It’s a deal if you place in the top three.”

I felt like jumping up and down, and then nerves hit me because I had to keep my end of the deal. And that was no easy feat. “We’re getting this in writing. I’ll draft a contract between events.”

He shook his head and gave me a shove toward the vault. “Like I said, lawyer in the making.”

***

After timed warm–ups, my three teammates and I were lined up in the arena hallway, now wearing our new blue and black long–sleeved leotards, when I got a text.


JORDAN: I’m in section A, row G, seat 5. Love you and good luck



I smiled at my phone before tucking it away. So, Bentley had let him stay. Even got him a ticket. Or else he did it without permission. Either way, I wasn’t complaining at all. I wanted him here.

“Feeling good today, Karen?” Stevie asked from behind me. “I’m not going to take less than a real fight from you.”

I turned around and smiled at her. “Very good. In fact, you should be worried.”

I could practically hear her smiling, even over all the applause as we entered. My stomach filled with butterflies. I was too nervous to look for Jordan in his seat. It was enough to know he was watching. After the teams were introduced, the national anthem was played. My eyes swept the stands, and instead of feeling empty, knowing my parents weren’t actually there this time—the last time I’d competed they’d been in the stands—I felt them somehow. I didn’t know if it was a weird spiritual awakening. I didn’t feel the urge to pray or worship anything, but I felt them here.

Blair reached out and grasped my hand, squeezing it gently. I blinked away more tears, hoping that my eyes wouldn’t end up black. Maybe they weren’t really here in any sense, but I could put them here. All those seats and faces I couldn’t make out. It might as well be my mom and dad.

I squeezed her hand back, remembering that I wanted to prove a lot of things to a lot of people today. But maybe I just needed to start with me.

Unlike yesterday, the four of us got to rotate together as a team, along with eight other girls. I watched my three teammates land their vaults with no problems; even Stevie had a slightly smaller step than yesterday. Before my turn, Bentley came up behind me and whispered, “You’re doing an Amanar today.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.

“You were right earlier, Karen. I do want to prove to Nina that my girls are the best,” he said. “But even more than that, what you can do, Karen, it’s amazing, and I want everybody to see it. That’s what I’ve been looking forward to most in Chicago.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and feeling his hands drop from my shoulders. “Don’t forget chalk,” he whispered before walking away.

I re–dipped my hands into the chalk bin and mentally went through the vault, trying my best to think of what Bentley had told me about sticking.

Relax. Sink into the floor.

As I flew through the air and my feet approached the mat, the panic reaction hit just for a second, that urge to step or hop forward, but I let all the air whoosh out of my lungs, and my feet did not move. I could hear my teammates cheering from their seats off the podium.

It was the first time in my entire life that I’d ever stuck a forward landing vault. And Bentley knew that. So I think he must have been right about us speaking the same language, because when I turned around to see him, he just stared at me and I knew what to do. And that didn’t include letting the whole world know that I’d never stuck a landing like that before and that it might be a fluke.

I walked off the mat, not even smiling, and Bentley gave me a tiny nod, and when I was able to stand next him, I could see him smiling a little. “Nice job, Karen. Very nice.”

Ellen went first on bars, and she fell on her first release but hit the rest of the routine otherwise. I stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders while she cried and tried to stop crying. When it was my turn, I could see Nina from the corner of my eye, ready to take all the points for my missed handstands, and I made the decision to just go for it, fall or no fall.