Letters to Nowhere (18 page)

All the amusement dropped from his round face. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” I whispered as Jordan thundered down the steps.

“Good news!” Jordan said. “We’re going to a party tonight. And Karen, you’re having a sleepover with Blair and Stevie at Stevie’s apartment. She’s already asked my dad and everything.”

“Blair and Stevie are coming to Tony’s tonight?” This revelation distracted me from thinking about the fact that he’d just had a five– to six–minute private conversation with Stevie.

Jordan stood in front of me, arms folded across his chest, grinning like he’d just created this master plan when I knew for a fact that Stevie having her own apartment was the only reason we were going to this party. Or at least the only reason I was going. Jordan could have easily gotten away with it.

“You drove your car, you’re sneaking out to go to a party—you know what you gotta do between now and tonight, right?”

“Rob a bank?” I suggested.

“A layout Jaeger on the uneven bars.”

I grinned just thinking about being able to try it today. Finally. My fingers were already tingling. I glanced at the clock and jumped up, snatching my bag from the floor. “Shit! It’s already two. I gotta call my grandma.”

I took off for the stairs, the phone ringing on her end already. I needed to pack a bag for Stevie’s and possibly find something in my wardrobe that would make me look a little bit hotter than my much older teammate.
Yeah, right
.

“Hi Grandma,” I said when she answered. “Guess what? I got the car…”

***

“Don’t say anything to Ellen,” Blair hissed in my ear while we were in the locker room during break. “She’ll know she can’t come but she’s gonna sulk about it for a week.”

“Got it.”

“What are you wearing?” Blair asked.

I grabbed my grip bag and waved a hand to stop her from talking. “No distractions! I’m focusing.”

“Sorry,” she gulped, zipping her lips.

Jordan was in the lobby whispering with Stevie about something, but I barely glanced their way as I taped up my wrists for bars. It took me longer than anyone else to notice the four random people and one giant camera occupying space in the lobby.

“NBC is here?” I hissed to Blair.

“Probably to cover Stevie. Another story about the fallen champion or something,” she whispered back.

One of the NBC guys walked up beside us. I recognized him from training camps. They came out to get footage of us working out together whenever a competition was approaching. They’d been to the gym before, too, when Stevie was working toward making the Olympic team the summer before last. They got tons of footage and even interviewed all of us. Being a junior then, I’d thought it was pretty cool.

“Hi, girls!” Scott, the reporter, said. “How’s training going? We heard you were doing a little meet in Chicago before the American Cup.” He didn’t even wait for us to answer. His eyes darted toward Bentley, who was talking to the other NBC people, and then he zoomed in on me. “I’m so sorry to hear about your parents, Karen. Just wondered if we could sit down and talk to you about it and about how brave you are to get back in the gym and keep working toward your goals.”

My mouth fell open but no words would come out. I could feel sweat pooling on the back of my neck. The last thing I needed was to have an emotional breakdown on national television or to have the entire country know me for my sob–worthy orphan story rather than for my gymnastics.

Coach Bentley strode across the lobby, placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “Time for bars, girls. Scott, you are welcome to take as much training footage as you’d like, since apparently Nina Jones has already given permission for NBC to enter my gym.”

Holy cow, Bentley is pissed.

I managed to get through my competition routines, blocking out the cameras and Jordan watching. He must have done something amazing to charm Stacey into allowing him to stand near the beams while she coached the level 7s. Blair had her grips off to repair a rip on her right palm, so I let her fix my sweaty hair into a bun while we waited for Bentley to get an extra crash mat under the high bar. I didn’t want to look like a complete slob for NBC.

Blair dropped her hands from my hair, declaring it finished, and Bentley stood under the high bar, ready for me to take my turn.

“The key is patience, Karen,” he said. “Let your toes rise all the way up before you let go.”

I nodded, visually playing out his suggestion in my head. I spat on each grip once more before jumping into my mount on the low bar. Before the Jaeger, in my routine, I had to turn my hands to an inverted grip and then I swung facing the low bar, my heels leading the way around.

I held on a half second too long, and there was nothing I could do to correct the mistake. I flew upside down, my forehead dangerously close to the high bar Grabbing it wasn’t really an option. Bentley caught me, midair, around the waist, but my momentum was already heading toward the floor. Bentley eventually released me, and I was able to forward roll out and return to my feet.

My legs were shaking, and I did everything I could to wipe any trace of fear or surprise from my face. If that had given Bentley a heart attack, you’d never have known by looking at his face. He just rubbed his bald head and said, “A tad bit late and too much heel drive. Patience isn’t just for timing the release, it’s also for the kick up to the handstand. You had a little too much too soon. That’s going to screw with your timing.”

Instead of replaying the fall in my head, my brain was already fixing it. I dipped my hands in the chalk bin again, watching Jordan from the corner of my eye. He had moved a couple feet closer and was now biting his left thumbnail. I almost smiled at him, but I didn’t want anyone to notice me noticing him.

Blair and Ellen each had a quick turn and then I was back on the bars, swinging into my front giant swing.

“Slow and easy, Karen,” Bentley reminded me.

This time I was too early, which pushed me far away from the bar. I landed with a smack, flat on my stomach, briefly feeling the wind whoosh out of my lungs, my rib cage vibrating from the impact.

I lay there for a second, face pressed into the landing mat, closing my eyes and waiting for the pain to fade. I pulled myself to my feet and heard Bentley’s correction as I headed to get more chalk.

“Just a little early,” he said. “And keep the midsection tight…”

Keep the midsection tight
was Bentley’s socially acceptable way of saying
squeeze your butt
. That was a common correction in gymnastics, because the abs and butt are at the center of the body, and not keeping the middle tight caused all kinds of form problems and falls.

I used a towel to wipe the sweat from my face and re–chalked, waiting for my next turn. After ten more misses, several instances of losing my breath, a huge bloody rip on my left palm, and one very hard accidental elbow jab to my coach’s stomach, Bentley told me to call it quits for the day.

It wasn’t until then that I started fighting off tears. I didn’t want NBC to catch sight of me crying and turn it into something that it wasn’t, so I turned my back to them and stuck my hands in the chalk bowl again. “One more try,” I pleaded with Bentley.

“Karen—” he started to say.

“Please, one more and I won’t bug you again for the rest of the week.” Which basically meant tomorrow, since it was Friday.

He sighed. “All right.”

I took several slow, deep breaths and used my knuckles to wipe away a couple tears that had trickled down my cheek. I didn’t even notice Jordan coming up beside me until he said, “I thought the point was to catch the bar?”

“Seriously, Jordan, not in the mood,” I snapped.

“Okay.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’re forgetting to breathe.”

“I’m breathing right now,” I said through my teeth. What was up with him today?

“I mean before you release the bar. It’s just one long exhale. Or a really long word.”

Stevie joined me at the chalk bin, her eyes on Jordan. “He’s a coach, he should know.”

I glanced at Jordan, narrowing my eyes. “You’re a coach?”

“At International Gymnastics camp,” he said. “Three summers in a row.”

I’d been to that camp twice myself, but not since I was ten. The coaches were pretty good there.

“One long exhale?” I repeated.

He nodded. “Try it. It’ll work.”

I stood in front of the low bar, ignoring the camera zooming in. Bentley absentmindedly rubbed his stomach where I had elbowed him three turns ago. I took a deep breath and jumped into my mount again. When it came time for the Jaeger, I allowed the air to release from my lungs as I swung and then let go of the bar at the end of my breath. I could feel it working in slow motion. I saw the bar for what felt like several seconds, though I knew it couldn’t have been that long. And when I caught it, Blair, Ellen, Jordan, and Stevie all cheered.

I was already smiling before my feet hit the ground. Bentley patted the top of my head. “Nice job, Karen! Very nice.”

I caught Jordan’s eye and mouthed “Thank you” to him. He gave me one of his famous half smiles. A girl from the level 5 team was currently holding on to Jordan’s hands, walking up his legs while he flipped her over.

Bentley gave me a nudge from behind. “Beam. Now.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” I said, still grinning.

***

I wasn’t sure why it bugged me to all ends to see Stevie dressed in a short skirt and a cute top with her small–but–bigger–than–mine boobs accented by the V–neck while Jordan walked her and Blair around Tony’s house introducing her to everyone.

Several girls recognized Stevie from the televised Olympic trials where they had told her injury story over and over again. That didn’t bug me as much, but having Jordan by her side…I just couldn’t help wondering whether he liked her…
really
liked her. And the elation I had felt during practice began to fade.

This time, I chose the purple Kool–Aid and some kind of alcohol mix and went through two cups before I started feeling it and tossed my third cup. Jordan was on his third beer, I noticed, not that I was spending all my time watching him or anything. Not that I had an excuse to watch him and count his drinks. Stevie had driven all of us here and she wasn’t drinking, so there wasn’t really anything to worry about.

I kept to myself for a long time until Tony found me and pulled me into the office, away from everyone else. He shut the door halfway and turned on a lamp near the desk. The loud music and voices faded, leaving the hum of near silence flooding my ears.

“All right, Campbell,” he said, looking somewhat grim compared to his usual lighthearted attitude. “You asked for it and I delivered.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Really?”

He snatched a plain piece of paper from the printer and grabbed a pen, nodding for me to come closer. “You know the exit right before the stadium?” I shook my head and leaned closer to look at his drawing. “There’s a gas station with a big sign that’s had the letter missing for like a year.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I do know that area.”

He glanced at me, probably checking my face for panic or a major breakdown, but I was a hundred percent in technical mode. “Okay, so about three miles before that exit, there’s a curve in the road and it’s pretty sharp…”

I watched as he drew lines and wrote down the mile marker from memory. Then he handed me the paper. I folded it carefully and tucked it into my pocket. “Thanks, seriously. I didn’t even think you’d be able to get this information.”

“There you are.”

Tony and I both jumped, looking really guilty and up to something as we turned to face Jordan, who was now standing at the door to the office.

“You’re welcome,” Tony said to me, then he flashed Jordan a grin before scurrying out of the room.

Jordan blocked the door, his eyes on me, waiting for an explanation. “What?” I said, all innocent.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just wondering where you went. A couple of guys in my class made this cool light show thing for the science fair. We’re about to watch it.”

“You and Stevie?” I said, then I closed my eyes wishing I’d had an ounce of my usual self–control.

“Karen—” he started.

“Come on.” I turned my back to him, heading out the door. “Let’s go watch the light show science experiment thing.”

He dropped the subject of Stevie and followed behind me. I felt Jordan’s arm brush against mine as we walked down the steps to the basement where Tony had the alpha and omega of home theaters. The room was crowded with students and cups and booming voices, but Jordan managed to capture my attention. Standing close behind me, he whispered, “Are you worried about me and Stevie?”

I shrugged and kept my eyes on my two teammates standing across the room, talking to a few of the girls I’d met at the last party. Blair was chugging Kool–Aid mix like someone dying of thirst. “Why would I would be worried? I like Stevie. She’s my teammate.”

Suddenly all the lights went out, leaving the room pitch–black. A few screams erupted, followed by laughter and someone shouting that it was supposed to get dark. The laser designs appeared on the ceiling, causing everyone to look up. Pink, blue, and green neon shapes streaked across the ceiling. I could see them clearly, but it was still so dark in the room that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. Which is why I jumped and let out a yelp when someone’s arm snaked around my waist from behind.

“Shh,” Jordan said, speaking right into my ear. “It’s just me.”