Chapter 7
HANNAH
On Friday, Coach Rodier comes over to watch while I’m working on low to high transitions on the uneven bars. It’s my best event, but I need to increase my difficulty level to match many of the other girls in the gym.
I drop to the ground to give my arms a break.
Blowing out a breath, I finally glance at him—something I’ve not let myself do for the past five minutes.
He’s not the kind of man who wears an encouraging smile at all times (or really, any of the time) and I don’t need any help getting stuck in my head.
We’re coming up on the weekend and Premier is hosting a men’s competition, which means this is the last day I’ll be able to practice before the end of my trial period. I can’t help but feel like this is my final opportunity to show Coach Rodier that I belong here.
“Your arms are bent when you catch.” His voice is filled with a calm, unwavering confidence that leaves no room for doubt he’s correct. And honestly, his track record supports it.
I nod and then step up to the bar to go again. This time when I come off the low bar, I focus on grabbing the high bar with straight, unbent arms. I drop and look to him.
“More power from the hips.”
I try again. Again. And again.
I don’t see it happen but at some point, I realize he’s moved closer. I’d like to think he’s taking a personal interest but maybe he’s only taking pity on me and giving me a smidge of attention before he kicks me out of this fancy gym.
“Better.” It might be my imagination, but I believe his voice lifts a half octave. So close to sounding like he might be pleased with me, but not quite cheery enough for me to be certain.
My chest heaves from exertion, but I’m not tired.
I’m filled with adrenaline and the drive to get this right.
On my next attempt, I add in the next move in the routine.
I’m concentrating too hard on remembering all his feedback, and my timing is off.
I jump to the mat and bite back a frustrated groan.
Coach Rodier steps backward. “In order to add more difficulty, we must first master the fundamentals. Every detail matters.”
I read a million things into his words.
You’re not going to cut it here, but nice try. Keep working on it anywhere but here.
If you can stop screwing up so much, you might just make it here.
I see great potential in you, Hannah.
Okay, admittedly that last one is more of a dream than a real possibility.
I smile, despite myself. He coached me. A stretch of the word? Absolutely, but if it’s the only advice he ever gives me, it’s so much more than a million other gymnasts wishing they were in my place.
“Nice work,” Kinsley says, coming to stand next to me. I blink away my focus only to realize we’re two of only a handful of people left.
“I’m never going to get this transition right.” I move to the chalk bucket and douse my hands.
She lets out a disbelieving chortle, then a mock high-pitched voice that I think is supposed to be me, says, “Thanks, babe. I’ve been working really hard and it’s paying off. Thank you for noticing.”
I aim a wobbly smile at her. “Sorry. It’s just…I still don’t know if he’s going to coach me. And if he doesn’t, I’m not sure that it makes sense for me to stay here.” Without Meyer and the funding to pay the gym fees, I’m already stretched too thin.
“And even if he does agree, I’m not sure how I’m going to pay for his fees on top of everything else. Or if it’s going to make a difference. Maybe I’m too late.”
That last worry is only partially true. I do fear it but only when I’m really feeling sorry for myself, like now. Most gymnasts have already hit their peak at my age.
“Okay, well, let’s think worst-case scenarios.”
I can’t help but laugh as she gets a serious expression on her face. Gaze turned to the ceiling, lips pursed. She’s the picture of concentration for a moment before she says, “Coach Rodier doesn’t take you on as a client and you can no longer train at this gym anymore.”
My stomach twists as she voices the worst possible outcome. Except, is it? I am worried about being forced out when I’ve just gotten here. But more than that, I’m scared that no one else will be able to see in me what I feel down to my very core. I was born to do this.
And if they can’t see it, then am I delusional in that belief?
Kinsley lets out a loud sigh and continues, “And then you don’t get to hang out with me every day, and then you move, and we lose touch and never speak again.”
The tension in my body loosens.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Regardless of what happens with my training, Kinsley is a friend for a life.
“Good.” She links her arm through mine, pulling me gently away from the chalk. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before we do something really sad and pathetic like spend our Friday night at the gym.”
Something she and I have done too many times to count. And will do many more, I’m sure. But I get her point, and I can see the janitorial staff eagerly waiting to get in and start cleaning and setting up for the competition tomorrow.
“Fine.”
“Wow, that was easier than I thought.”
My lips curve into a grin and I hum my agreement that it’s uncharacteristic of me not to dig in my heels.
“I’m hungry,” I admit. “And there’s a yoga class I thought I might check out tonight.”
Kinsley arches a brow at me. “Seriously? Tonight?”
“Hope said the teacher was really good.” And the less time I sit at home this weekend, the better. I already know I’m not going to be able to sit still while I wait for Coach Rodier’s final decision.
“How about you don’t do that and instead you take a little trip with me and Skylar.”
“A trip?”
“Mhmm. We’re going to Vegas with Heidi and Christina.” Two other gymnasts at Premier that Kinsley has known for ages.
“I can’t go to Vegas.”
“Why not?”
“For starters, I can’t afford it.”
“Don’t you have some airline miles from competition travel last year?”
I think for a second, begrudgingly agreeing. “Yeah.”
“And you can share a hotel with me and Skylar.”
My hesitation must show on my face because she rolls her eyes. “It won’t be like that, I promise.”
My expression doesn’t shift.
“We’ll limit all kissing and touching to outside the room,” she clarifies.
A short laugh slips from my lips. “Giving all of Vegas a show, huh?”
“It’s practically demanded when in Vegas.”
Her voice turns pleading. “Please? I think it’d be good for you to take a break and get to know some of the other girls.”
“It might not matter if Coach sends me packing,” I mutter.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t know that.” I take a breath but then open my mouth to remind her that I don’t have the money to stay either way. The look she gives me stops me. She’s right. One thing at a time.
“It’s all going to work out.”
I desperately want to believe her, so I don’t argue. “Thank you for the invite, but I won’t be any fun this weekend until I know Coach’s decision.”
We reach our bags, and she slips on her sweatpants and slides her feet into her shoes.
“You’re sure?” she asks as she shoulders her bag.
I nod.
“Okay, but promise me you won’t flee town before I get back.”
“I promise,” I say with a laugh.
She hugs me and then heads out of the gym.
I take my time packing up. The janitorial staff comes in but starts on the opposite side.
I love the gym like this when it’s quiet.
There’s something reverent about it. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer the gym when it’s loud and chaotic.
Floor music, the sound of feet hitting the beam and mats, the creak of the bars, and the steady rhythm of the pommel horse.
It’s as steadying to me as the cheers for teammates and the grunts of frustration.
But now when my mind spins with anxiety, the quiet of this place I love so much is the reassuring balm I need.
Two years ago, I set my sights on this gym.
Just being here is the realization of a huge dream.
The thing about dreams is they move and shift.
They grow. Being here checked off one dream but staying will check off so many others.
When I’m finally changed and ready to leave, I walk through the gym slowly, memorizing it all just in case. I will find a way to get back here no matter what.
My shoulders slump as I step out and the doors close behind me.
The squeak of the shiny tile floors and the bright lights from the windows around the lobby make it feel like an entirely different world.
I never really gave it much thought before, but today the stark divider between the grit and warmth of the gym and the rest of the world acts like a metaphorical bucket of cold water over my head.
I pick up my pace, but before I make it to the double doors that lead out to the parking lot, Coach Rodier appears to my left.
I jump, not expecting him. I thought he left a long time ago.
He’s holding a mug of coffee, like maybe he’s planning to stay awhile.
Actually, now that I think about it, he might just live here.
I wonder if he sleeps on the mats in the middle of the gym floor or underneath the high bar—that’s where I’d pick.
“Hannah,” he says in that short, clipped way he does.
“Hi.” The word comes out a little breathy as I recover from the shock of running into him while spiraling over his decision.
“You’ve improved over the past three weeks.” His praise hits unexpectedly.
“Thank you.”
“You still have a long way to go. It will take many more long days and nights.”
My heart flutters with excitement and possibility. “I know and I want that. I will do whatever it takes. This is all I’ve wanted since I was a little girl.”
He stares at me with gray eyes, expression impossible to read. He looks like he’s deciding something, but really, I think he’s giving me time to back down.
“Does this mean you’ll coach me?” I ask, unable to wait any longer to know my fate.
“Yes.”
I gasp, waiting for him to say more. It’s probably only seconds but it feels like longer.
I lunge forward before he can change his mind, hugging him and then jumping back when I realize that’s probably not appropriate. “I’m sorry. I…” I’m beaming at him, and he looks slightly amused. Still not smiling but there’s a look of curiosity there anyway.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You won’t be sorry. I’m going to work harder than any other gymnast ever.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s not going to be easy. You have a lot of catching up to do.”
I can’t seem to make any more words come out of my mouth. I am overcome with emotion. My chest feels like it’s going to burst. So I nod feverishly with a huge smile plastered on my face.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he says. “Get some rest.”
I keep right on nodding as he backs up the same way he came.
I stand there, frozen—possibly still in shock—until he calls out to me.
“Hannah?”
“Y-yes?”
“If you truly want to make it, you will need to work harder than any other gymnast before you.”
Not even his warning can dim my excitement. I nod and then push outside. As I walk to my car, I close my eyes and tilt my head up to the sky. It’s been raining on and off this week, but I don’t need the sun on my face to bask in the warm, fuzzy feelings.
Yes, there’s still the issue of paying for the gym but I’m not about to let that stop me. I’ll figure it out. I can get a part-time job coaching or… I don’t know how but I will find a way.
Smiling, I open my eyes. I know who I need to tell immediately.
Me
I’m in! Prepare to be sick of me.
Kinsley
I knew it! Congratulations! Now you have to come to Vegas! We need to celebrate!!!!!!!!!!!!
I start to give her all the really valid reasons I can’t, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the number of exclamation points or maybe it’s just the idea of celebrating this huge moment with my friend, but for some reason I find myself saying yes.