Return to You (Letters to Nowhere Part 3) (7 page)

“I’ve got an idea,” TJ says, his eyes glued on Karen.

I tear my gaze from Karen and look at him. “What?”

He holds a hand up to stop me, like he’s deep in thought, and then he’s trampling down the bleachers heading out of the gym.

I’m jerked awake, not by a nightmare today, but by a very bright flashlight beaming against my eyelids. “Jordan?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Campbell.”

“TJ,” I say with a groan, turning my back on him. “What do you want?”

“Get up,” he orders.

“Get the hell out of our room,” Stevie says from above me, her hair hanging over the side of the bed.

“Sorry, can’t do that.” TJ clicks the flashlight on and off in a repetitive motion, making me dizzy. “I’m on Nina Jones’s orders to drag Karen out of bed.”

I roll over and cover his flashlight with my hand. “Did she tell you to give me a seizure, too?”

And what does Nina want from me at midnight?

TJ plucks the question straight from my head. “Guess there’s some kind of emergency.”

I toss the covers back and spring out of bed in my tank top and pajama shorts. “What happened? Is Jordan okay?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” TJ laughs. “Just get up, Campbell, before your roommate explodes in a fit of rage.”

“Shut the hell up,” Stevie mutters, her voice muffled from the pillow. She’s already on her way to drifting back to sleep.

With a sigh, I slip my flip-flops on and grab my own flashlight, following TJ out the cabin door. He walks so fast I can barely keep pace with him. “Where are we going?”

“Nina said to meet her in gym two. That’s all I know.”

But when we get to Gym II, TJ has to use a key to unlock the door. The lights are all out and there’s not another person in sight. “What is this? Some kind of prank?”

He feels around on the wall and flips a couple light switches on, illuminating about a quarter of the gym. “That should be good enough.”

I fold my arms across my chest, staring him down. “Where’s Nina?”

“Not here,” he says all casual, then he bends over and pulls out a small bag from under the bleachers, tossing it to me.

“Hey! You stole my grip bag.”

He shrugs, grasping my shoulders and walking me out into the gym. “I’ve stolen much worse before, Campbell. That was child’s play.”

Um… what?

“It’s time for you to man-up and get that dismount back in working order.” He’s already at the uneven bars, adjusting the settings.

I roll my eyes. “That’s why we’re here? Sorry, but I have a personal rule not to do bar routines when I’m half asleep.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I think a dismount is required to call it a routine.”

My fingernails dig into my palms. Does he have any clue how infuriating he is?

“I’m not kidding, Campbell, you’re not leaving until you do a dismount.”

“Yeah, right.” I snort back a laugh and turn toward the door. “Good night, TJ.”

I make it literally two steps and an arm hooks itself around my waist and next thing I know, I’m face down on the gymnastics carpet with TJ sitting on my back.

“Get off me, you asshole!” I wiggle my legs, then use my hands to attempt to push myself out. “This is like, assault or something. You could go to jail for this. It’s probably kidnapping too.”

“Not scaring me at all, considering I’ve been to jail before.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” I grunt.

“Okay, I lied,” TJ says, “I can’t keep you here until you do a dismount.”

“You think?” God, this carpet smells like sweaty feet.

“But I can do this for at least six more hours, until your posse comes in here for morning workout.”

“My posse?” I twist a hand backward and reach for his side so I can pinch him, but he easily dodges me. “Get your ass off of me, TJ!”

“Only if you agree to do a bar dismount,” he says calmly.

“Okay, one dismount.”

He hesitates, then lifts himself up to a stand. The second his weight is off of me, I take off in a sprint for the door. But this time he gets both arms around me, lifts me off the ground, walks over to pit and tosses me into the center. The lights are off above the pit, so I can’t see where I’m falling and end up with a mouthful of foam.

My anger is hitting a boiling point, ready to spill over. The last time I felt anything close to this was the day that I read that folder Tony had swiped for me from the police station and then, in a rage, I’d thrown breakable objects all over my coach’s garage.

TJ stands outside the pit dancing around, anticipating where I’m going to try and climb out. “There’s no point in attempting escape. You’ll wear yourself out.”

“Do you even realize how creepy this is?”

“Just give in,” he taunts. “One dismount and you’re free.”

Angry tears spring to my eyes. “Fine!”

TJ reaches for my hand and yanks me out of the pit. “Good answer.”

He keeps a tight grip on my arms as he guides back over to the bars. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring me here in handcuffs.”

“You’re putting me on the wrong side. I don’t do handcuffs, I wear them.” He shoves my grip bag at me, and stands guard at the side of the bars.

I’m so pissed off my hands are shaking while I tie my hair back into a ponytail and put my grips on. “This is not how normal people coach.”

“First off, I’m not normal. Second, who said I was coaching?”

I release a frustrated breath and shake my head. “Whatever.”

And yes, there is some part of me that wants to do this dismount right here, right now. To not have this obstacle in front of me. Which is why, when I jump up to the high bar and swing into the second half of my bar routine only to drop back onto the mats, it’s not just TJ that I’m pissed at.

“Dammit.” I jerk my grips back into place and head for the chalk bowl. “I hate this.”

“Just do it and stop whining,” TJ snaps.

I glare at him and turn my focus back to the bars, tugging down my tank top in the process. It’s weird not having a leotard on. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath.

Just let go. Just let go. Just let go.

But the second I get to the swings before my dismount, it’s like my hands are glued to the bar. Like I can’t possibly see myself performing this skill anymore. It’s gone from my mind, gone from my muscle memory.

I sink to my knees on the mat staring at the low bar. “I’m not going to do it,” I whisper. “I know you don’t understand this kind of fear, but I know my head and it’s not happening tonight.”

“We’re not done yet, Campbell.” TJ walks away, grabs a spotting block and drags it over beneath the high bar. “What’s the skill called that’s right before your dismount?”

“The blind change?”

TJ hops up onto the block, reaching out for the high bar and rubbing his hands over it. “Is that the thingy where you spin and turn your hands backwards and swing the other direction?”

“Uh-huh.” I pick myself up off the mat, feeling five different kinds of defeat.

“So do that move and then keep going around.”

I level him with a look. “You mean a front giant?”

“Yep, front giant.”

I’m shaking my head, having no clue how this will possibly help, but obviously TJ is too hardheaded to accept answers without evidence. As I’m jumping from low bar to high bar, I hear TJ say, “Do two of those front giant things in row.”

Front giant things? Seriously. Why am I listening to someone who doesn’t even know basic uneven bar terminology? Probably because I’m desperate. And maybe a little bit stupid.

When I do the blind change, heading into the forward giant swings, I’m momentarily startled by TJ’s hand gripping my wrist. Is he trying to spot me? This is not the kind of dismount you can spot someone on and besides, he said just to do the swings, not the dismount.

I swing under the bar for the second front giant and then suddenly my hand is ripped from the bar, my momentum heading up and back forcing my other hand off the bar, too. I’m panicking inside, but years of gymnastics have trained my body to tuck and roll when flying out of control. I end up flipping forward about one and half times, landing on my butt and then rolling over backward to regain control. I spring up to my feet, staring at TJ, my mouth hanging open. My heart had literally jumped up to my throat and is now climbing back down.

“You… you…” I sputter. “Why did you do that? You could have killed me!”

He shrugs and hops down from the spotting block. “Got you to let go. That’s something, right?”

“Jesus Christ!” I swipe the water bottle from the side of the chalk bowl and pelt it at him with all my force.

My hands are shaking, my heart still halfway between my throat and chest. I grip the sides of the chalk bowl and lean over, catching my breath, trying to calm down. TJ’s face twists with anger. He grabs the other side and leans in close to me.

“Look at me!” He’s so intense right now, I can’t help but follow orders despite what that plan has done to me thus far. “You’re right, Campbell, I don’t get why you’re afraid. I think it’s fucking stupid to be scared of something you’ve done hundreds of times. But what we do have in common is that I keep seeing your head hit that high bar and I need you to do it right so that I don’t have to see that image every time I look at these bars. The difference is,
I’m
willing to do something about it and
you’re
fine with throwing away your chances at winning Nationals, at qualifying for Worlds…”

And now I know why TJ is so invested in this project. Not that I agree with his approach. Oh no, I’m completely livid about all of it. And I’m still chalking up my hands, though I have no idea why.

“What happens if you don’t have a bar dismount?” he presses. “What the hell are you going to do at Nationals? What are you going to do with your life if gymnastics is over for you? You’re finished with school, right? Ready for college? Ready for the real world? Somehow I doubt that. You’re still a scared little girl who misses her dead parents.”

“Stop,” I warn him. I swallow a lump in my throat and use my knuckles to wipe away a few angry tears that escaped from my eyes.

“I’ll stop when you get up there again and do what you just did, except make the one and a half flip into a double. With a half twist out.”

I squeeze the side of the chalk bowl. “I can’t do this with you! We’re not a team, TJ. We can’t be when I can’t trust you and you’re pissing me off so much. The only time I’ve felt this mad is…”

“Is when, Campbell?” He lets go of the chalk bowl and takes a step back. “With Jordan earlier? You looked pretty ticked off then and it seemed to do nothing but good for your routines.”

“I’m frustrated with Jordan, not angry,” I admit. “There’s a difference.”

Some of the anger drops from his face. “Has this happened to you before? Getting scared to do a skill that you’ve performed in competition tons of times?”

“No, it wasn’t a gymnastics related event that set me off.” I rub the file into my leather grip, sawing as hard as I can. “My parents were drinking the night of their accident. They had elevated blood alcohol levels. And my grandma and Jordan’s dad thought it was to my benefit to keep that information a secret.”

“But you found out.” He doesn’t say sorry like most people would, he doesn’t even have an ounce of sympathy on his face.

“I was looking for details on their accident and I got hold of a police report and… and yeah, I found out. But only a handful of people know. “ I exhale and watch a few tears fall from cheeks into the white powdered chalk. “I was so mad. I wanted to kill them all over again. It seemed stupid, so trivial. Not this big force beyond our control like I’d imagined. They could have kept it from happening. And I wouldn’t be here on my own.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been through all this already and it doesn’t change the fact that I both love and hate them.”

TJ wraps his arm around one of the metal poles holding up the uneven bars and his gaze drifts up to the high bar. “I can’t help you with the being alone in life thing, but I can help you with this dismount. But you have to trust me.”

I snort back a laugh. “My coaches have never done anything like what you did to me a few minutes ago and I still don’t trust them a hundred percent when it comes to spotting. I rely on myself and my own ability.”

“Did you fall after you hit your head on the high bar?” he snaps, turning back into mean TJ. “Did you feel any kind of impact hitting the mats? No. Why is that, Campbell? You should have had a broken wrist, a dislocated shoulder…”

I grind my teeth together. He dove to my rescue. I know that, but I don’t know how difficult it was. Okay, maybe that’s not completely true because I’ve heard snippets of conversations around camp with people referring to TJ as superhuman.

He steps closer and grips both my shoulders. “I’m not a very good person, Campbell. On several occasions, I’ve been a very bad person, but I’m faster than all of your coaches. My reflexes are quicker. This is what I’m good at and I’ll do anything to keep from screwing this up. I’m not going let you fall or hit your head. It’s just as much my skills as it is yours.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s a great speech, but—”

“Just shut the hell up and do it. Don’t think. Don’t even try very hard. It doesn’t have to be good.” He spins me in front of the low bar. “Just let go of your control and hand it over to me. That’s all you have to do.”

I suck in a shaky breath, wipe away a few more tears, and finally give a tiny nod. I’m doing this. No matter what. Success or death. Or anything in between.

The whole swing onto the low bar and jump up to the high bar, I force almost every thought out of my head. TJ’s skill, not mine. I’m just here for the ride.

The second I turn into my blind change, prepping for the dismount, TJ grabs my wrist again and shouts, “Let go!”

So I do.

My body kicks into robot mode. All the doubts I’d had earlier about not knowing my way through this skill anymore vanish and suddenly, I’m on my feet on the landing mat having just attempted and stuck my first dismount in two weeks.

There’s an immediate feeling of weight lifting off my shoulders, my chest, my legs. I’m so relieved tears are tumbling at double the rate they fell earlier. TJ hops down from the spotting block and sinks back onto it, his shoulders sagging with relief.