“How did it happen?” he asked, as if to himself. “How did this happen?”
She wasn’t even sure what he meant, but there was something in his face. She’d seen it before, years ago, during the pureed-pear-smeared chaos of new parenthood. This dangerous and endangered creature had landed like a bomb in their lives—his life—and he’d stand at the nursery door at the end of a long day and she couldn’t get him to come inside, to join her at the rocker, or he’d stand over the crib rail. His face stiff and eyes distracted, he’d linger in the doorway, I don’t want to wake her. But Devon was always awake, bantam arms swatting at Katie’s chest. Come on, Eric, Katie would urge, hold her, smell that sweet smell. But it was as though he were frozen there, and he never moved at all.
But that was a long time ago, before everything.
That night, tucking Drew in, feeling his forehead, she tried to explain what had happened, that Hailey was upset and had been mean to Devon.
“Oh. I thought Devon did something wrong,” Drew said, his throat clacking wetly. “I thought she was in trouble.”
“No,” she said, worried about the rash, his skin mottled-looking. She was going to call the doctor in the morning. “Sleep snug, okay?”
“She looked like she looked when she drove the car that time.”
“Honey, you were dreaming, remember? Just like when you thought she was flying.”
“But she can,” he said. “She can fly, Mom.”
“You poor tucker. Call me if you need more throat spray.”
“It makes my mouth feel like a seashell,” he said. “Like something died inside and took all the feeling away.”
On the way back, she stopped at Devon’s room, peeking behind the nearly closed door.
It was black inside, and loud with a warm, wet wind from the open window. Devon lay there, still and helpless, one arm dangling off the bed.
Katie stood a moment, listening to the wind, watching it rush over her daughter’s body, so motionless. Her hand, palm facing out, caught the hallway light. The funny stigmata the gymnastics rips had formed in its center.
“I’m sorry” came the whisper and now she saw Devon’s eyes shimmering in the heavy dark.
“Sorry for what, baby?”
“Mom, what if it’s all my fault?”
“No,” Katie said, stepping inside. “Nothing is your fault.” She was thinking of what Teddy had said. That Hailey had told him some things about Devon. Things that were “raw” and made him rock back on his feet.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling Devon’s body stiffen, nearly cracking. She rested her hand on Devon’s ankle, hot and heavy.
Devon looked at her closely, tilting her head like a cat.
“Was Coach T. here?”
“Yes,” Katie said, not taking her eyes off her.
“What did he want?” Devon asked, more awake now, body tensing. “Did he want to talk to me?”
Katie paused. “Devon, do you know why Hailey did this to you?”
Devon said nothing. Katie waited. There was something happening. She knew it. She let the silence linger and kept her gaze fixed on Devon.
Devon held that gaze for a long minute.
“Maybe she thinks I’ll tell.”
“Tell what?” Katie asked, a creeping feeling on her neck, like a pin scratching.
It was like opening a diary, Devon’s diary. Except Devon was doing it. Inviting her in. Katie had always thought her daughter never confided because she had nothing to confide.
It started a few weeks ago, she said. It was a Saturday practice, amid the sweat and chalk fog of the gym. Only a few parents were staggered through the stands, not even Katie, who was at swim class with Drew. Devon looked up in the stands and saw Ryan.
Usually, if he visited, which was almost never, he stayed close to Hailey’s part of the gym, where she reigned over the seven-year-olds, bellybands cinched around their soft centers.
But today he was sitting on Devon’s side, with a perfect view of the vault.
She focused on her routines. Round-offs to the board, drills onto stacked mats and onto the trapezoid, and especially Yurchenkos into the pit. Gaze trained on the sloping tongue of the vault table. The place she needed her hands to hit, fingers straight ahead. Telling herself: Don’t slip off the tongue.
But at a certain point she noticed Hailey had abandoned her seven-year-olds to a round-off drill and strolled over to watch her.
After Devon’s last run, Hailey approached her at the chalk stand.
Devon, Ryan thinks your vault is mind-blowing, she said, smiling but in a weird way. And the way she said mind-blowing, like it was a dirty word.
Later, Devon saw the two of them in the BelStars parking lot, leaning against Hailey’s Altima and talking very closely.