Letters to Nowhere (28 page)

“Karen, honey, how are you?” He even leaned down and was practically eye–level with me.

“Fine—I mean, okay, I guess.” There were too many people in the room for my body to even process the idea of shedding a tear, and I’d done this so many times already that it wasn’t nearly as hard as that day on the phone.

Blair slung an arm around my shoulders. “She’s great, actually, kicking some serious ass in the gym.”

A grin spread across his face. “That’s what I like to hear, as your former and future coach. I thought you might have taken some time off.”

I hadn’t taken any time off. I was back in the gym the day after my parents’ funeral.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cordes said, after I didn’t respond. “You still have plenty of time to get those old skills ready for UCLA. No one will be in top form when we start practices in June. Lydia, our beam coach, can’t wait to get her hands on you. We’ve been struggling on that event this season.”

June. Here it was again.

Stevie made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snort, but I couldn’t understand why she’d be laughing right now. “Karen’s done a lot more than maintain her old skills. You should see her bar routine. She’s got an Amanar and a layout Jaeger, a tucked full on beam . . .”

My face felt hotter than hell and I turned to Stevie, glaring at her and hoping she’d shut up. She’d made it sound like those skills were a sure thing, and Bentley hadn’t confirmed I’d be competing any of them. Ever. I already gotten into UCLA based on my old skills. I didn’t want to come there with all these extra expectations. What if Cordes started bragging to the other coaches about these new skills, and then I couldn’t even do them anymore in a year and a half?

Cordes’s face scrunched up and he stared at me. “Wait, you changed your routines?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Nothing’s definite. If I stick my old routines, then Bentley lets me work on new skills, that’s all. Just like always.”

‘You should see how high her vault is,” Ellen squealed. “It’s like McKayla Maroney high.”

God, not Ellen, too!

I could feel Jordan’s eyes on the back of my head. He was seated at one of the training tables, still getting his arm examined. Stacey seemed to have stopped talking right then, too, and gave Cordes a smile and a wave.

“Did you hear about Ellen’s meet in Australia?” I said, since we were obviously playing the talk–about–your–teammate game. “She won all–around and floor.”

Cordes gave Ellen a high five and she beamed, flashing her smile full of braces. “Great job, E. So proud of you!” Then he turned back to me. “Karen, honey, you can be NCAA National all–around champion with a Yurchenko full or a one and a half. There’s always been a chance we’d water down that double. You certainly don’t need an Amanar.”

Stevie shrugged. “Well, she’s got one.”

“Is this Nina Jones’s influence?” he asked. “I can talk to her and let her know your plans for June and get her to back off at the camp coming up.”

My heart raced, but there was no way around me answering this question with as much truth as I could muster. “I want to compete at Nationals,” I said. “And if it goes well, then World trials.”

It felt like a giant weight had lifted off me, finally speaking this goal aloud. But I hadn’t even said it to Bentley, hadn’t asked if I was welcome at his house for a few months longer.

Coach Cordes drew in a deep breath, his jaw tightening. Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Well, this is unexpected. We talked about this last summer, Karen. Your parents and I sat in my office and—”

He stopped, abruptly realizing his casual mention of my parents, and his expression smoothed into a more calm one as if he was putting several pieces together. “I’ll talk to Bentley. We’ll figure everything out, okay?”

I honestly had no idea what that meant. Would he try to get Bentley to ship me to California in June, or would he figure out how to let me join the team late? And I couldn’t believe that the decision was finally made, just like that.
I’m going to compete at Nationals. I’m going to try for a spot on the World team.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and then my teammates and I went into the locker room to change. I waited until I was totally dressed to say anything to Stevie. “What were you doing? You know Bentley’s not going to add all that stuff to my routines, and I don’t want anyone having these huge expectations.”

“Well you
should
want that,” Stevie said.

Now I was getting really pissed at her. “That’s for me to decide, not you!”

“I’m getting out of here before you guys start throwing around Gatorade and ruin my new leotard,” Ellen said, trying to lighten the mood before she rushed out of the locker room.

Blair was at my side in seconds. “She’s right, Stevie. You’re just bitter because Karen was always Cordes’s favorite. We all had to deal with it, but it’s not her fault.”

Stevie shook her head. “If by favorite, you mean the gymnast he had the lowest expectations for, then you’re right. That would be Karen.”

I stared at Stevie, shocked. “God, what is your problem?”

“Every coach has a favorite,” Blair said. “You know you’re Bentley’s favorite.”

This stalled my anger for a second. I’d never gotten the impression Stevie was the favorite with the head coach now. It just seemed like Bentley respected the fact that Stevie was an adult and aware of her limits. Not just an adult but a seasoned veteran in this sport. If she said she was tired, he’d assume she meant it, whereas with the rest of us, he’d assume it was his job to tell us when we should be tired. That hadn’t really bothered me before, and I didn’t realize it bothered Blair until now.

“I was okay with how Cordes treated you before,” Stevie said to me. “Because I figured he was right…”

“Right about what?!” Blair and I said together.

“Several years ago,” Stevie said, “my mom and I were in his office for a meeting. She was complaining about my progress and why hadn’t I won Nationals and why was Karen Campbell getting all the special treatment and why did he let you back in the gym after he kicked you out of practice when I’d have to miss an entire workout…”

Blair’s arms were folded over her chest, her foot tapping like she was in major defensive mode. I, on the other hand, had no clue where Stevie was going with this.

“I sat right in his office while he told me and my mom that you weren’t as talented as I was and he didn’t see international elite competitions in your future,” Stevie said. “I remember feeling relieved, and then I had this almost permanent smirk on my face when I was around you because I had a secret that you didn’t have. But once I got out of my egotistical Ellen phase, I could see that he was wrong.”

“He might not be wrong,” I said. “You’ve won world championships. I haven’t gotten any senior international assignments and I might not. Ever. Yes, I’d like to, but getting a full ride to UCLA for gymnastics isn’t exactly displaying a lack of talent.”

“Seriously,” Blair chimed in.

Stevie laughed derisively. “I’m so not spelling this out for you.” She spun around and left before either of us could respond.

I was numb with confusion when I finally exited the locker room. Jordan was waiting for me outside, a new, smaller splint on his left arm. He also had a baseball cap on, probably to cover up the stitches in his head.

“You look pensive,” he said, eyeing me carefully.

“I think I feel pensive.” I could see Bentley and Cordes talking in Bentley’s office and I tried and failed to read lips for about thirty seconds.

“Lunch?” Jordan prompted, nodding toward the front doors.

“Right, lunch.”

***

As soon as we were seated at a small table at a nearby deli, I dove into questioning Jordan about last night. “So are you in trouble? Did he yell? Did someone throw a punch? Because I was waiting for that yesterday afternoon.”

Jordan let out a long breath and set down his giant sandwich. “I’m sorry. I feel so bad for sticking you in the middle of that. Kind of embarrassed, too.”

I gave him a half–smile and continued pouring dressing on my salad. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re not right in the middle of my family drama or anything.”

He shrugged. “I guess, but my dad and I haven’t had a fight like that for a long time. Usually we just brood in silence, or at least I do.”

“Maybe it was a good thing, then?” I ate a few bites before speaking again. “What did he say last night?”

“Not much,” Jordan said. “He didn’t yell at me or say that I proved his point about memories causing me to go out of control. I know he’s wrong about that, because I look at those pictures all the time. He just doesn’t know it.”

“You do?” I felt that all–too–familiar flutter in my stomach. This boy was just too cute for his own good. I could totally picture Jordan in that garage, looking through those albums. Jordan, the one person who made me say out loud that my parents were dead, would be able to handle remembering his loss.

“The problem is this,” Jordan said, turning very serious all of a sudden. “When I try to remember what my mom and my sister and grandparents really looked like, how they moved around, little things like that, the mental picture is getting more blurred every day, and then I’m seeing the photos and not remembering the actual memories.”

“And you want him to tell you stuff so you can remember?”

Jordan’s eyes dropped to his food in front of him. “Yeah, I do.”

“Will it help if I tell you what he told me?” I asked, a little tentatively because I didn’t want to hit a sore spot.

He nodded, and we both went back to eating our food while I relayed every detail of the conversation Bentley and I had in the garage yesterday.

“I have another question about last night,” I said, after we’d exhausted the garage topic. “What exactly were you doing on the swing set?”

Jordan laughed. “Oh, that was kind of awesome, actually. A couple guys dared me to try a giant swing on the metal pole across the neighbors’ swing set.”

I slapped my hands over my face. “Oh man, did you do it? Or fall trying?”

“I did it,” he said. “But then I got cocky and tried a flyaway, I held on too long and came back and hit my head on the bar, then my arm must have broken the fall.”

“You may have a career as a Hollywood stunt man.” Now I really wanted to see that video. Maybe someone else had recorded it, since Tony had deleted his version on my instruction last night.

He smiled and lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Then I’d be in LA, like you, right?”

I tried not to linger too long on the awesomeness of that plan because there were a lot of maybes involved. Especially after my big announcement to Coach Cordes today. “Where are you going to college, anyway?”

“So far I’ve gotten a yes from Missouri State, Iowa State, and University of Illinois,” he said. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“U of I is a good school. That’s where my dad went.”

I think both of us didn’t want to think about the fact that Jordan might be sticking around the Midwest while I headed for the West Coast. I decided maybe it was a good time to tell Jordan that I might be around a bit longer. “I’m competing at Nationals for sure,” I said for the second time today. “You think I’ll be allowed to stick around here longer?”

Jordan set his fork down and stared at me. “I can tell you for sure that my dad has never planned on training you for NCAA competition. My guess is, he was already planning on you competing at Nationals. Maybe he didn’t want to pressure you into making a decision right now, considering everything going on.”

I thought about that for a minute, remembering Bentley telling me on the flight to Houston to put the college stuff on the back burner for now. That was exactly what I wanted to do. At least we’d agreed on one thing. I wasn’t sure if that would carry over to adding new skills soon.

“So, Coach Cordes…” Jordan said, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m not sure I like him too much.”

“That’s because he’s not your dad.”

“Sometimes I don’t like him too much either.” He frowned. “He seemed like one of those people who listens but isn’t really listening. And Stevie has obviously put him in her not–favorite people pile.”

“We had a really weird fight about that in the locker room.” Both of us stood up to toss our trash, and I explained everything I could to him as we got in the car and drove around.

“Want to go to the park?” he asked.

“Sure.” I’d been hoping we could go somewhere besides home. If only Jordan could skip school every day. Maybe the summer would be like this, now that I’d decided to stick around. Or would he coach at camp again? With Liberty.
Ugh
. “What do you think Stevie meant that I’m supposed to figure out? And do you think Cordes is right? Should I just focus on staying healthy for college? Stevie acts like competing in college is for total losers or something.”

“First off, you are a hundred percent making the right choice, competing through Nationals. You haven’t gotten to do an all–around senior meet yet and you should at least have that experience before college, regardless of what happens.” He grinned at me. “And yes, I’m partly influenced by the fact that it means you’ll be here longer.”

I smiled down at my feet. “And the Stevie part?”

“Didn’t she give up her college eligibility years ago?”

This was true. She had taken endorsement money before she even reached high school because of training costs, and I think she thought she’d be done by eighteen. I had no idea if she regretted it or not, but I knew my parents would never have let me ruin my college chances so early on. But then again, we could afford to make that decision. Not everyone was that lucky.

“Yeah, she did.”

“I don’t know,” Jordan said as he pulled into a parking lot near the forest preserve. “But you want to make the Pan Am team, compete at Nationals, maybe Worlds, right? And you need elite level skills to do this, correct?”