CHAPTER EIGHT
February 14
Mom and Dad,
Did it hurt? Who was driving? If I had been in the car, would it have changed anything? Please don’t answer this. I don’t want a concrete reason to believe in ghosts.
Love, Karen
Coach Bentley,
I want to ask you so many things about your family, but most of the time, I force myself to not think about it. You’re the most stable person in my life and you probably were even before my parents’ accident and now I really need you to stay that way. I’m sorry if that’s selfish.
—Karen
P.S. Thank you for never asking me about going home or getting my car. I’m not ready.
Jordan,
I’m glad you haven’t been making out with Sara.
—Karen
***
“Karen Campbell!”
I froze in my spot up on the high beam, watching Nina Jones, our National Team coordinator, walking toward me, followed by two committee members. Nina was basically the person who made the final decision on every women’s gymnastics team that represented the USA, including World and Olympic teams. Despite her short stature and wild gray hair, Nina was the single most intimidating person I’d ever met.
The most intimidating thing I’d ever met was Nina’s clipboard, which she now held pressed to her chest.
“Have you ever trained a tucked full on beam?” she drilled, snapping her fingers in the air, indicating I should hop down and stand at attention in front of the three committee members.
Stacey had been teaching me an even more difficult skill, an Arabian somersault, but Coach Bentley had quickly positioned himself behind Nina. He shook his head slightly, reminding me of our discussion on the flight to Houston. “Just…uh…on a line…in the off–season.”
Bentley nodded his approval. Nina exchanged glances with the other committee members and then her eyes beamed like lasers right at me. “Show me on the line, please.”
She snapped again and I hurried over to the gymnastics floor, placing my feet on one of the white taped lines.
I quickly showed Nina and her two sidekicks my back tucked full, which is basically a back tucked flip with a full twist. I bent my knees on the landing, pressing my feet into the slick white tape as if it were a beam high in the air.
“Again,” she said.
This continued ten more times. Luckily this skill had no impact on my sore shoulder and provided a nice break from doing full beam routine.
“One more time,” Nina said. “Make sure your chest is up when you land.”
One more time led to another ten attempts with me applying the correction she’d given me. By that time, Coach Bentley was much closer to us and several of the other girls were watching to see what Nina was up to. Usually we only trained routines at camp, not new skills. They didn’t want to see something that wasn’t ready for competition. There was no time for that.
“Now, let’s take it up there.” She pointed to the high beam that had a sixteen–inch crash mat under it. The extra mat was better than nothing, but there was still a big gap between the beam and the mat.
In reality, there was no difference between the low beam and high beam. If you could perform a skill six inches above the ground, then you could do it twenty feet above the ground. It became a mental game.
I hopped up onto the beam and expected to feel my legs shake with fear, but they didn’t. Instead I had that rush of adrenaline that I craved so much lately. I could feel the skill practically tingling through my fingertips.
“Nina, I don’t think—” Bentley started to say, but Nina held up a hand right away to shut him up.
“Don’t baby her, Henry,” she snapped.
Only Nina Jones would get away with calling Coach Bentley by his first name.
I stood in the center of the high beam, raising my arms to prepare. I felt the weight of their eyes on me. Then I just went for it, landing with a thud back on the beam. I wobbled and one leg even came all the way out to the side as I tried to regain balance. Eventually, I bent my knees and held myself in place.
Now my legs were shaking. I couldn’t even look at Blair or Stevie and especially not Bentley. If they looked totally shocked, then I was likely to start freaking and never do it again, and I had a feeling that Nina—
“Again!” Nina said.
So, I did it again. After ten tries—three falls and seven successful landings—she had me come down and start reciting all the skills in my current routine. It only took me a second to realize she was looking for a place to put this move.
“After the straddle jump, in the middle of your routine, add the tucked full,” Nina said.
I didn’t wait for Bentley to protest or even give him a chance. I stood facing the high beam, ready to do my press handstand mount. The rush of excitement running through my veins drowned out all other thoughts. The good and the bad.
I got to the tucked full in the middle of my routine and performed it well, but fell off after wobbling for a few seconds.
“Start over,” Nina barked.
The second time through, I made the tucked full and it took all the focus in me to not smile or cheer since I still had half a routine to finish. Instead, I plunged myself into the next skill. But the emotional high, the shift in my world caused my focus to slip and outside noise I usually tuned out broke through my bubble.
“The American Cup in April could be a trial run for her,” one of Nina’s sidekicks said.
“We needed another five–tenths of difficulty for the team beam score at Pan Am championships,” the other one said. “I thought we’d have to upgrade everyone’s jumps and turns, but she just racked up seven–tenths for us with one move.”
“Which would also be fantastic for Worlds next fall,” Nina said.
Oh my God, Mom is going to freak when she hears this!
I stood at the end of the beam, completing the full turn right before my double pike dismount, but suddenly reality hit and glued me to my spot. The fog of adrenaline melted. I tried to draw in a breath but couldn’t. The end of the beam blurred in front of me.
No, not this again. Not now.
Tears trickled down my cheeks. My legs collapsed underneath me. I sat right down on the beam, my forehead hitting my knees, the room swaying around me.
“Karen?” Stevie. It’s Stevie.
“Are you okay?” And Blair.
“I can’t breathe,” I whispered.
Stevie pulled me down to my feet and before I even realized what was happening, she and Blair were leading me into the training room.
“I think she’s hyperventilating,” Stevie said.
I am? How did that happen?
“God, Karen!” Blair said. “What happened? You were doing so amazing. Did you hear them talking?”
Sweat trickled down my neck and back. I lifted myself onto the table, feeling nothing but panic as air refused to enter my lungs.
“She’s white as a ghost,” Bentley said, rushing in with the team doctor. “Karen, is this like what happened to you before? Or is it something else?”
Through the panic, I knew what he was asking—Is this like the time I saw the urns or do I actually have medical problems that need 9–1–1 assistance?
“It’s like before,” I managed to say.
I clutched my chest, knotting my leotard between my fingers, willing myself to take a breath. After a two–second glance at Coach Bentley’s worried expression and my teammates’ near panicked faces, I passed out.
And with that, I proved to Nina and the rest of the committee that mentally, I wasn’t anywhere near ready for a major international competition in the future.
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?”