13. Sadie #2
"Yeah." I move further from the door, looking around to make sure no one is around. "What's going on?"
There’s a pause, and I shift my weight from foot to foot. This is not good.
"I had a rough few days," he says. "I wanted to tell you before you heard it from somewhere else."
My jaw tightens. "How rough?" I try to keep my voice low, but if it’s bad, then I’m going to be pissed off.
"I'm back to the beginning, Sadie."
The words land flat. Back to the beginning. Six months of work, of phone calls where he sounded better, of me telling myself this time was different. I look up at the sky and take a deep breath.
"Define the beginning," I say, and my voice comes out steady, which is the only thing I have control over right now, not sure for how long though.
"The program restarted my timeline. I have to go through the full sequence again." He stops. "I'm sorry… I really am."
Something hot moves through my chest. Not tears, but anger, the kind that sits right behind the eyes and makes everything sharp.
"Dan." I stop, breathe and then start again. "Do you know how long I saved for college?"
"Sadie…"
"Three years. Three years of working doubles on weekends and not spending anything and telling myself it was going to be enough.
" My voice stays level, but only just. The words coming out are clipped and precise because if I lose the precision, I lose everything.
"And then it wasn't enough because I needed to help you, so I used it.
I used all of it on you. And then I had to start again from nothing and work twice as hard to get a full scholarship because it was that or not go to college at all, because my college money I spent on you!
" Now my words come out a little louder.
"I know…"
"I did all of that." The back of my throat aches. "And you're telling me you're back to the fucking beginning."
Silence.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice is quiet, and genuine, which almost makes it worse.
"I can't talk right now." My voice cracks slightly on the last word, and I pull it back before it goes further. "I'll call you later."
"Sadie…"
I end the call before I say something I know I’ll regret.
I’m stand there with the phone in my hand and the cold air on my face, hoping it will cool me down. It doesn't.
This is what it feels like to be alone, fighting everything and everyone alone. Trying to help my brother alone. I’m tired and I have no one to hold me when I just need someone, someone to tell me everything will be okay.
I look at my phone and open the messages because I have no idea who else to talk to. I can talk to the girls, but I don’t want them to know how bad my upbringing was, or about Dan. I don’t want anyone to know because I’m scared of what people will think about me.
Sadie.
Why do people always let you down?
I stare at what I've typed. Change it.
Why do people always let me down?
I send it before I change my mind, because I might do. I’m turning to my stalker when I need someone to talk to.
Ghost.
Who let you down today?
Sadie
Does it matter.
Ghost.
To me it does.
I look at that for a moment. The weight of four words from someone whose face I can't picture, whose name I don't know, and who’s been leaving me flowers and coffee and a bracelet that I’m wearing on my wrist right now.
Someone I love, I type. Then delete it. Too much.
Sadie.
Just someone.
It doesn't matter. It always ends the same way.
Ghost.
Not always.
Sadie.
You don't know that.
The reply takes a beat longer this time.
Ghost.
I know.
I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes for a second. The cold of the brick comes through my jacket.
Sadie.
Everyone lets me down. I'm just waiting for it with you.
Ghost.
Then keep waiting. I'll still be here.
Sadie
That's easy to say.
Ghost.
Yes, it is. I'm saying it anyway.
Sadie
Don't make me regret this.
Ghost.
You won't.
I breathe. I can’t believe my brother, and I can’t believe how crazy I’m being with this stalker of mine.
The door opens behind me.
It’s Juno, with Cara right behind her, which means the whole table probably clocked something was wrong and sent the two most useful people.
"Hey." Juno's voice is careful. "You okay?"
"Yeah." The word comes out clean. "We should get to practice."
She looks at me for a moment with the expression of someone who knows exactly what's happening and is making a decision about how hard to push it.
She doesn't push it.
"Okay, but if something was wrong you would tell me."
“Promise.” I smile, and then see the other two come out, and we make our way to practice.
***
Coach Pearce runs the beam session like it's already competition day, and I’m fucking failing.
No warmup grace, no easing in. She wants the full routine from the top, and she means it.
She’s standing at the end of the beam with her arms crossed and her eyes tracking every tenth of a degree of every movement.
Which I know I’ve messed up more than once.
My head isn’t in the game, but she makes me do it again. And again.
I take a deep breath. I mount clean at least I did that right.
The first pass, split leap into back walkover landing the way it should, my weight distributed correctly, and my arms exactly where they need to be. I feel it the way you feel a good landing, the rightness of a body doing what it's trained to do.
Then I hit the turn sequence.
My mind goes somewhere it shouldn't. One fraction of a second, Dan's voice, back to the beginning, three years of savings and doubles on weekends, and that's all it takes.
The turn overcooks by half a beat. My weight shifts wrong.
I feel the correction coming too late. I reach for it, then I miss it.
The floor comes up fast.
I land on my feet, from training, and pure muscle memory, but off the beam is off the beam and the gym goes quiet. They all know I’m the best on the beam and floor, so for me to make a mistake and fall is a big thing.
"Elliot."
Coach Pearce's voice is not loud. It’s worse than loud, it’s contained, and it’s the sound of someone who has something to say and is choosing exactly how much of it to release.
I look at her.
"What was that?"
"A mistake," I say. "It won't happen again."
"That turn has been clean for three weeks." She walks the length of the beam, stops at the end, and looks at me with the assessment of someone running calculations. "Whatever is in your head right now, leave it at the door. You've got twelve days."
"I know."
"Do you? Because that turn tells me you don't know right now. Mount again."
I mount again, and I try to block everything out of my head. The anger, the disappointment, my brother, but it’s not working because I feel the water building in my eyes from the anger building inside me.
He will not fuck this up for me, but when my feet hit the floor again, I know my brother is going to be my downfall, but I can’t kick him out of my life. He's the only family I have left.
I look over at coach, who says nothing and just walks away.
Fuck! I shout to myself. I walk over to my gym bag and see I have a message. I quickly look at it so coach doesn’t catch me.
Ghost.
Focus on your dream. Everything else can wait.
I stare at it and then lock the phone. I put it back in my bag, then look around to see if I can see anyone new in the room. No, there’s no one new here. I wish even if for a second, I could be around him, just so he can say everything will be okay.
I mount the beam again without being asked and do my routine again.