“Jesus Christ,” I say.
“I liked him.” Emery pulls her bag onto her shoulder. “He was kind of endearing, like a weird uncle you only see at Thanksgiving.”
Radio and lights off. The electrical hum goes silent. The only soundtrack to my first night back at the gym is the squishing of the mats under our sneakers.
Under the amber emergency lights that bathe the nearly empty parking lot, we wait for Matt to lock up. “I know they’re not Division I,” he’s saying to Emery, “but if you want an in-state tuition option, you can’t beat them.”
Lucky Emery, courting her college suitors. Turning down the paupers at her leisure.
“Savannah.”
I knew this moment was coming.
Matt folds his arms across his chest. “What gives? Not a peep from you, and now you’re here and ready to go?”
Here, yes. Ready to go–up for debate.
I choose honesty. “I missed this,” I admit. “Although I’ll probably need to be pushed around in a wheelchair tomorrow.”
“You know,” Matt says as he pulls out his keys, “Barry has a reputation for taking the broken and restoring them to full glory.”
Is this the part where the Rocky theme starts playing?
“He likes comeback stories. He’s big on gymnasts who have gone through injuries.” Matt pauses. “Also, your dad told him your GPA.”
He would.
“Can I borrow a few points?” Emery grins.
Matt’s still looking at me. “What are your plans?”
“I’m applying to schools in the city.” I ignore the lump that manifests itself in my stomach. I’m supposed to be letting go, not feeling something as stupid as longing.
“So glamorous,” Emery says. “I’ll be visiting.”
My coach is undeterred. “What happened to Ocean State?”
“Don’t let that assistant coach with no sense of humor scare you off,” Emery adds quickly. Kind of adorable for her to act like I’m still in this thing, when the last e-mail exchange I had with Ocean State was telling them the doctor’s diagnosis. The rest, as Hamlet would say, was silence.
“Too bad, you know,” Matt continues casually. “If you were considering it, I’d say that the Golden Leaf Classic would be an excellent goal. December 10. I know, right, it seems a little sudden.”
“There’s no–”
He holds up his hands, and I shut my mouth. I’m the delinquent who left the sport without a goodbye; the least I can do is hear out my coach, although I’m 99 percent certain that he’s out of his mind. “One event. Your choice. Of course, only if you were really serious about it.”
I imagine a girl standing on the beam in our gym’s silver-and-blue competition leotard. Arms over her head with her chin lifted, exuding confidence. But she’s not me. She’s Emery. She’s one of the twins, smiling at the judges and in love with the sport.
I don’t try to deny his ploy. “That’s so soon.”
Matt shrugs. “Come every day. I’ll let you in on Sundays during birthday parties if you want.”
This is absurd. A wide-open invitation to break myself afresh.
I came here tonight to…I don’t know. Say “how’s it going?” Say goodbye. Get out of the house. Stop thinking about Cassie for a little while. Gather myself before committing to a Middle-earth immersion with Marcos. Whatever. I didn’t sign on for this.
For the first time since my road test, jitters of excitement launch down my arms and legs. This is the kind of adrenaline that I used to thrive on. At the same time, the now-familiar sickness rolls in my stomach. No, no–
The rip in my knee. The waiting room. Every afternoon on the padded bench at South Shore Physical Therapy, watching my bone-thin right leg struggle to lift a five-pound ankle weight. I’d sworn to myself that I would never find myself in physical therapy again. Not if I could help it.
“If you want to compete in college, now’s the time to get going,” Matt says.
“Ocean State’s dead and gone,” I mutter. My empty inbox is a testament to that.
“Ocean State wanted you as a specialist,” he reminds me. “At a school like Owego, you could be doing all-around.”
True; I had sent Coach Englehardt video updates of my skills on all four events. “We’re going to have a hole in the floor lineup next season,” he’d replied, “and I think you’re the perfect candidate to fill it.”
“Not bars,” I say automatically.
Matt’s getting to me. I didn’t do much tonight–just the basics–yet everything I did felt controlled, well-executed, and capable of being kicked up a notch if I can get used to the feeling of that bulky brace knocking around.
“Are you in?” he says.
I wonder if he asked Monica, Jess, and Ally the same question. If one by one, they all said no.
I see that girl again on beam. The large knee brace forces her legs apart but she’s still standing, waiting.
“Okay,” I say. Immediately Emery’s arms are around me and she’s shouting into the night, Matt’s grinning like he might actually tear up a little, and I’m torn between abject terror and a tiny voice, that Cassie voice, telling me to just go out there and do it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“ARE YOU OKAY?” Dad asks at seven in the morning.
“Yes, why?”
“I didn’t realize you owned clothing besides sweatshirts.”
“It’s too warm,” I say. Incorrect. I’m freezing. My fitted purple top and dark blue jeans leave me defenseless against the wind, and my straightened hair blinds me on the journey to the car. At least I’m not wearing make-up. That would be a blatant signal: Savannah is actually trying today!
It has nothing to do with a potential tutoring session at lunch. Nope.
“How is Cassie?” Dad asks.
I wish I knew. “Hanging in there,” I say.