Chapter 31
JETT
“Safety in sports,” Brooke says, enunciating every syllable clearly as if I can’t speak English. “That’s all you need to talk about today.”
Her high heels clack on the sidewalk as we approach Heartwood High.
I’m trying to keep up on my crutches. I don’t think I need them anymore, but Mark came by this morning to do a full assessment and see how bad my injury was.
He instructed me to use them as much as possible so I don’t put any strain on my knee before the qualifier.
I’m not normally one to follow all of Mark’s instructions, but Poppy is a play-by-the-rules kind of gal, so she’s holding me to it.
I don’t even really want to be here today. I’d have been perfectly content having another day on the couch with Poppy and Cordelia, watching movies and knitting, and pretending that we’re the only two people on earth.
But Brooke figured it would be a strategic move to tackle my sordid reputation from other angles, not just my relationship status. So, I’m being dragged to my old high school to tell kids not to be like me, I guess. Be an example of what not to do.
“Got it,” I answer, holding back an eye roll.
Poppy is following along next to us, nodding in agreement with Brooke’s instructions. After last night, and the sounds I heard coming from her room, I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep myself focused on anything but her.
“Tell them to know their limits, stay in bounds on the ski hill, and most of all, wear their helmets,” she adds. “Divert any other questions and stick to the topic.”
I grumble under my breath, as we walk through the front doors, and Poppy jabs a sharp elbow into my side. I glance over at her, a warm smile plastered on her face as she greets the school principal, waiting for us in the lobby.
It’s a different principal than the one Poppy and I had when we were students at Heartwood High, but otherwise the school looks no different, almost stuck in a time warp.
The trophy case still proudly displays student’s successes, and I peruse it as we walk past, before realizing it would be crazy for any of my trophies to still be in there.
We’re led down the hallway and into the gymnasium, where what looks like the entire school is gathered for my appearance. I throw a hand up in a wave to the students all seated on the bleachers, and whoops and hollers ring out in a roar of applause.
The principal finally gets everyone’s attention, and the noise dies down to a low murmur before stopping completely.
“Today, we’re lucky to have our very own Jett Landry, world renowned skier, here to talk to us about safety in sports,” the principal announces, before adding, “keep it appropriate today, kids, or you’ll be hearing about it in homeroom.”
I stand at the front of the room and wait until the room is quiet again before I introduce myself.
“Uh, yeah, so, I’m Jett Landry,” I say awkwardly, as I try to remember what I was here to talk about.
I’ve never done anything like this before, my PR team typically tries to keep me away from situations like this. Situations where I have to try and be a role model.
I clear my throat into the microphone and pull out the notes Brooke gave me.
“I’ve been skiing for almost my entire life. Skiing is everything to me, and with the level of risk involved with the tricks I do in my freestyle competitions, safety is always at the forefront of my mind.”
Some slides appear behind me on the projector, photos of me from some of my events, and I find my groove. It’s not hard to tell them all about the sport I live for, breathe for. But then the slide changes to something else.
The day I fell coming out of my triple misty. The trick that was supposed to win me the qualifier last season but cut my season short instead.
I clench my jaw and flash a glare at Brooke, who gives me a shrug as if she didn’t know this was coming. The one thing I hate talking about, admitting that I’m not invincible.
Reading off the notes Brooke gave me, I continue with my spiel.
“This was the worst day of my career, the day I tore my ACL. Now, this accident was just that, an accident. I’ve trained every day since I started skiing.
I keep myself in the best shape humanly possible, and still, this injury ruined my season and just about sent me into early retirement.
We can’t prevent all accidents from happening, but we can prevent them from being life-limiting, or even fatal.
I was wearing my helmet the day I fell off of this seventy-five foot jump, and I don’t want to think about what could have happened if I wasn’t. ”
In my peripheral vision, I can see Brooke giving me a thumbs up, and I decide whatever else she has for me to talk about, I’m not going to. That’s enough for today, so instead, I open the floor up to questions.
The first few questions are innocuous, asking about my current ski season, what I do to train, how I got into skiing. But when the next hand goes up, and I point to the kid in the backwards ball cap, I understand why Brooke gave me a thorough run down of the kinds of answers I’m allowed to give.
“Yeah, so, my friends and I want to know,” the kid starts, his buddies around him giggling and smacking him on the shoulders. “How do you wheel so many chicks?”
A rumble of laughter ripples out through the crowd and I steel myself.
“I’ve only got eyes for one girl—woman—now,” I answer, and point to the next student with their hand up. It’s a girl this time so I think maybe it’ll be safe.
“Um, how married are you?” she asks.
The gymnasium erupts in a raucous uproar.
I notice the principal about to step in to save me, to reprimand the students, but I hold a hand up to stop him, a look of shock and confusion washing over his features.
“I wasn’t going to answer any inappropriate questions, but fuck it,” I mutter. I don’t look over at Brooke, but I can imagine that she’s shielding her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but here. “Truth is, I was exactly like all you little assholes. I thought I was hot shit.”
A few nervous giggles echo in the silence of my pause. “I thought nothing could touch me, nothing could rock me, that I was invincible, and you know what? I’m not. And you’re not either. Part of being safe is your ability to admit that.”
I learned that lesson the hard way when I injured myself.
But it turns out I’m having to relearn it again now too.
In all honesty, I’m more affected by the things people say about me than I let on.
I’ve lived up the public image for so long, I’ve forgotten myself along the way.
And when that happens, you start to believe the narratives.
I look over toward Poppy now, a warm, fuzzy feeling flooding my chest when I see her broad smile, her hands clasped beneath her chin, waiting for my next words. Brooke doesn’t look as enthused, but she looks intrigued, at least, so I carry on.
“The fact is, it’s okay to be soft. It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes. To not always look ‘cool’.”
I think about all the ways I’ve been able to let my guard down around Poppy.
She gives me a safe space to admit that I might not want to play this part anymore. That there’s a deeper layer I’ve been shoving down and repressing under the guise of protecting myself. The part of me that cares deeply, that wants to love and be loved.
“It can be pretty fucking lonely when you only care about how you appear on the outside. The people who really care about you will only care about what’s in here.” I poke at my chest. “That’s all that really matters, isn’t it? Finding the people who trust you, believe in you, make you feel safe.”
I square my shoulders, shrugging off the emotions that are threatening to overtake me, and realize my speech has taken a bit of a detour.
Safety in sport, that’s what I’m here to talk about.
“And safety is paramount, in anything you do. So, yeah. Wear your helmet, don’t go out of bounds on the ski hill, and don’t be fucking stupid.”
The principal steps forward and takes the opportunity to cut me off.
“Okay, let’s just call it there,” he says. “If I catch any of you using that kind of colourful language in the hall, you’re in detention for the rest of the week. You hear me?”
A handful of kids scoff and roll their eyes before the crowd disperses and files out through the gym doors.
“That was great, Jett,” Poppy says, as her and Brooke walk over to where I’m standing. “I mean, minus the swearing.”
I wrap my arm around Poppy’s shoulders and pull her into my side while I brace myself from the lashing I’m about to get from Brooke. I’m surprised when her features soften, and a hint of a smile graces her lips.
“You know what, that wasn’t as bad as I anticipated,” she admits. “But you’ll have to issue an apology to the school for your language choices.”
I shrug.
I can do that. At least I managed to deliver a somewhat inspirational speech, and I avoided anything that Brooke would call a PR nightmare.
“I’ll call that a win.”