“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“What are you doing here?” she replied.
I climbed to the top of the bleachers and sat beside her. Then I explained that I was here with Josie, my tutor and friend. I pointed her out.
“And that’s my brother, Julius,” Elizabeth said, pointing to a boy whose curly hair stuck out from under his zebra-striped helmet. It almost matched his black-and-white-spotted pony. “He’s my half-brother,” Elizabeth said. “He’s seven, but he has some special needs so he seems younger.”
Julius was adorable. His expression was wide open and innocent as he talked with his side-walkers.
“He rides Oreo here every week,” said Elizabeth. “He’s wild about that pony.”
“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” I said.
“That’s because he lives with my dad and stepmom,” explained Elizabeth. “I don’t see him that often. That’s why I come here. It’s something we can do together. I look forward to it all week.”
The next time Julius circled back toward us, Elizabeth waved Julius’s side-walkers and leader closer. I followed her to the edge of the arena, and before I knew it, I was looking up into her brother’s eyes. He glanced at me shyly. “Me Julius,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied. “I’m McKenna. Nice to meet you, Julius.”
“Me too,” he said, waving sweetly as the woman leading his horse led him back into the circle.
“Elizabeth, spread the word, will you?” the woman called over her shoulder. “We need more volunteers, especially with the open house coming up!”
When I sat back down on the bleachers beside Elizabeth, I asked, “Volunteers?”
“There’s always something to do here,” she said. “Just ask Shannon or Cowboy Bob. Sometimes I help out on weekends with my stepmom.”
While I watched Josie and Julius ride, I wondered, Could I volunteer at the center, too? I already had my hands full with school and gymnastics but was really enjoying my time at the riding center. Was there something more I could do to help out?
The hour flew by, and before I knew it, some of the riders were dismounting, including Julius.
“Bye, Josie,” Elizabeth said as she left with her family. “Hope I see you next week!”
Soon, Josie was done riding, too, and she was all smiles. Shannon, Cowboy Bob, and Britta helped Josie dismount, while her mom steadied the wheelchair.
“I loved it!” Josie said.
“I knew you could do it,” I said, feeling like a genuine coach.
As I walked down the ramp beside Josie, I remembered something. “Just a sec,” I said to her, turning back toward Shannon, who was following us with Mrs. Myers.
“I heard you need volunteers,” I said to Shannon. “Something about an open house? I might be interested…”
Shannon lit up and told me about the day when the riding center would be open to the public so that people could learn more about it. “We could definitely use your help getting ready for the open house,” said Shannon. “When you come back next time,” she said, “let’s talk.”
I nodded happily.
I had come to the center for Josie, but I was surprised by how much I’d enjoyed my time—once I’d gotten past my fear. As I headed on crutches out of the riding center, I reminded myself that I was lucky. Lucky to get my cast off soon. Lucky that my physical challenges were for only a short time. Lucky to have a friend like Josie.
Monday after school, I sat on the examination table as Dr. Hartley carefully cut off my cast, her eyebrows knit in concentration. The cast soon dropped from around my foot and ankle.
I looked at my pale skin and saw instantly how my calf muscle looked smaller—weaker—than my other calf muscle. Tears rose to my eyes.
I glanced at Mom, and her worried expression told me that she’d read my thoughts.
Dr. Hartley nodded at me. “Go ahead,” she said. “Slip off the table and try it out.”
I stepped down gently on my leg, but it didn’t feel as strong as I’d hoped. My voice came out wobbly. “I thought I’d be…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence. How could I possibly be ready for team tryouts in March? It seemed impossible—like climbing Mount Everest.
“McKenna, you’re a gymnast,” Dr. Hartley said. She squeezed my shoulder and then leaned over and looked me in the eyes. “You know all about hard work. Just start slowly, and build up your workouts a little at a time. And you’ll start working with a physical therapist, too.”
“When?” I asked.
“That’s where you’re heading next,” she said, making a note on the computer.
I left the office, still using crutches and gingerly putting weight on my cast-free foot.
At the physical therapy department, a young woman named Willow met me with a fist bump. “I heard you were coming!” she said brightly.
Willow asked me what my goals were, and when I said I wanted to make the competitive gymnastics team in March, her lips scrunched together. “That’s not much time,” she said, “but if you’re willing to work hard—”
“Oh, I’m willing!” I said eagerly.
Willow put me on a schedule and gave me a sheet to chart my stretches and progress. “We’ll be working on your range of motion, balance, and strength training,” she began. “You may still want to use crutches for a while.”
Then Willow showed me a few things I could do at home: calf stretches, ankle circles, and alphabet exercises. I liked those the most. With my leg supported, I pretended to draw the letters of the alphabet with my toes.
“I’m in fourth grade,” I said as I formed invisible letters, “but I’m starting all over again with the alphabet.”
Willow laughed, which made me laugh, too. For the first time that afternoon, I felt as if maybe things were going to be okay.
The week passed slowly, but I took every moment to stretch and strengthen my ankle. While I did homework, I made circles with my foot. While I watched a movie, I sat on the carpet and stretched my legs out in front of me, pulling a bath towel against the balls of my feet.
By Tuesday at the gym, I wanted to throw myself into a full practice, but I had to pace myself. I practiced balancing on one foot while the others started practicing floor routines.
After a minute or two, Toulane leaned in toward me. “Hey, I see you brought your tutor,” she whispered. “Do you need her to tutor you in gymnastics now, too?”
I looked toward the viewing area, where Josie was sitting and talking with Grandma. Josie had come to the gym to watch, and then Josie’s mom was picking us up after practice and taking us out to eat.
“She’s not tutoring me here,” I said to Toulane. “We’re friends.”
At the word friends, Toulane’s expression turned stormy. She rolled her eyes at me and walked away.
“What’s your problem, Toulane?” I called after her, a little too loudly.
Coach Isabelle overheard. “Okay, time-out,” she said, holding her hands in a T shape. “Everyone take a seat for a moment.”
I sat by Sierra—and as far away as possible from Toulane. Why did she care who I was friends with? Was she really that jealous of Josie?
Coach Isabelle took a deep breath and then said, “Lately I’ve noticed some tension between some of you girls.” She glanced around the group, but I couldn’t meet her eyes. I knew she was talking about me and Toulane. “Maybe we need to find a way to build a better sense of team. Any ideas?” she asked.
Breaking the silence, one girl said, “A sleepover? We could watch movies and bring sleeping bags right here to the gym.”
“Mmm,” said Coach Isabelle, considering the idea. “Good suggestion, but I’d have to think about that one. I need my sleep, whereas I think you girls might want to stay awake all night. Am I right?”
A few teammates giggled.
“Any other ideas?” Coach asked.
I held up my hand.
“McKenna?” she said.
“There’s a horseback
riding center for riders with disabilities,” I began. “They’re looking for volunteers to help out. Maybe we could do something there on a Saturday.”
A flurry of excited whispers rose up around me. “Horses, really?” someone said.
Another teammate added, “Cool!”
I risked a glance at Toulane, half waiting for her to shoot down my idea, but she said nothing. She had her arms wrapped around her knees in a tight little ball, her face frozen in an unreadable mask.
When I turned back to Coach Isabelle, her eyes were bright. “McKenna,” she said, “I think you might have something there. I’ll look into it.”
I sank back into the mat, proud that Coach Isabelle was willing to consider my suggestion to volunteer at the riding center. Toulane obviously wasn’t crazy about the idea, but I couldn’t help that.
Soon our Level 4 group started stretching, and then we began the circuit around the gym to different pieces of equipment. With everything I tried, I felt shaky on my weak ankle. I finally sat down on the mat and blinked back tears of frustration.
“You know,” Coach Isabelle said, kneeling beside me, “injured bones can heal and be stronger than before. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll work with you and keep track of your progress, okay? Just take things slowly.”
I sighed. “But will I get strong enough by March-fest?” I asked.
Coach Isabelle shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she said. “But if anyone can recover from an injury, I believe it’s you. One day at a time, McKenna.”
Just then, Sierra ran like a gazelle at the mat stack and aced her vault.
“Nice work!” Coach called out.
Sierra bounded over to us. “Hey, McKenna,” she said, catching her breath, “if you need any help with some of your exercises, just ask.”
I loved that even though Sierra was focused on her own skills, she still made time to be a good friend. Steady gymnast. Steady friend.
By Thursday afternoon, I felt a little more sure of what I could try at the gym. And it helped knowing that Coach Isabelle was there to help, too. With each practice, I could work a little harder, but she’d make sure I didn’t overdo it.
Before we got started, she announced, “Girls, I want you to take home these permission slips and get them signed by your parents. One week from Saturday, we’ll work out here as usual, and then we’ll take the team van over to the therapeutic horseback riding center. I called, and they would be delighted to have us come and volunteer.”
“What are we going to do?” Sierra asked excitedly. She is always up for anything.
“We’re going to use the riding center’s kitchen to bake treats—for people and for horses—for the center’s upcoming open house,” Coach explained.
A murmur of excitement went up, especially about making horse treats. As the girls around me started chattering excitedly about the project, I caught sight of Toulane sitting in a far corner of the mat. Our eyes met, and she quickly looked away.
Part of me really hoped Toulane would go to the riding center. We needed to find a way to get along better, and volunteering together might be just what we needed. On the other hand, if she was going to show up at Hearts and Horses with a bad attitude, maybe it was better if she stayed home.
When Coach Isabelle invited me to try my bar routine, I forgot all about Toulane and the riding center. With my first hip circle, I felt a little bit stronger, a little bit lighter. Though I was far from flying through my routine, it felt good to be back in motion again, swinging in and out, up and down. When I neared the end of my routine, I held back from the dismount. Instead, I slowed to a stop and lowered myself to the floor.
With my floor routine, I held back, too. Without strength, it’s hard to pull off grace. And I still needed time to rebuild strength.
Rather than risk falling off the beam, I used the floor-level beam, designed for beginners and for practicing new moves. At first I trembled, but I took it easy and paused several times to regain my balance and to calm myself. I kept my jumps low. I didn’t need to go fast. I needed to rebuild my confidence one element—one step—at a time.
When I was done, I stopped to watch Toulane, who was working on her routine on the higher beam next to me. She flew through her elements, her forehead creased in concentration. When she dismounted flawlessly, her mom whistled from the viewing area. A faint smile crossed Toulane’s tight mouth.
“That was really great!” I said.
“Thanks,” she acknowledged.
And then I felt the need to say something more. I walked closer to Toulane. She had accused me of pulling away from her and from gymnastics, but that’s not what I meant to do. We’d always been teammates. That didn’t need to change. “About the volunteer thing,” I said. “It’s just one afternoon at the riding center. And I, um—I hope you’ll come.”
“You do?” Toulane asked, her intense brown eyes searching mine, as if she didn’t quite believe me.
I nodded and said, “Of course!”
“Then…maybe,” said Toulane. “If my mom lets me.”
“You have to take a break sometime, right?” I asked.
Toulane’s brow furrowed. “A break?” she said, glancing toward the competitive team. They were taking turns jumping into the pit—high and in perfect form. As their coach, Chip Francesco, talked, he waved his arms in the air like a conductor.
Toulane’s jaw clenched. “I doubt they take breaks,” she said. “We can’t either if we want to make that team.”
Looking at Toulane now, it was hard to believe she was the same girl I used to have fun with at the gym. When had she started to change?
“We’re not really taking a break,” I said to her. “We’re team-building, remember?”
“I guess so,” Toulane said, unconvinced.
As we left the mat, I wondered if maybe it wasn’t Toulane who was changing, but me. What if I just didn’t have the same fire about gymnastics that Toulane had? Was it wrong to care about other things, like the riding center, too?
I couldn’t wait to return to Hearts and Horses. I’m not sure who was more excited—me or Josie! After working so hard toward becoming a better student, gymnast, and friend to Josie—plus encouraging my teammates to volunteer at the center—I felt so good. As I stepped into the horseback riding center, a fresh breeze of excitement blew through me.
As I waited with Josie for Pumpkin to be led from the stable, Shannon introduced us to other riders as they passed. “That girl is a whiz at math,” Shannon said, and, “That boy was adopted into a big family.” The more I learned about the riders, the more I wanted to meet each and every one.
When a pink-helmeted little rider dropped her teddy bear near the mounting platform, Shannon let me step into the arena and pick it up. I handed it to one of the side-walkers, who lifted it to the little girl.
“Tanks,” the girl said, looking down at me. I’d seen her from a distance, but up close, I saw how everything about her face looked lopsided. Her right eye seemed fine, but when she turned her head and faced us, I saw that her left eye was much lower than her right.
I almost wanted to cry. What if I’d been born looking so different? I felt bad for the little girl, but she didn’t seem to be feeling sorry for herself. She gave me a sweet smile.
I managed to smile, too. “You’re welcome!” I said.
“This is Dora,” Shannon said, stepping down off the platform to join us. “She’s six, and she’s been riding here for over two years, haven’t you, Dora?”
Dora gave me another lopsided half-smile. She clutched the saddle horn so tightly that her fingers and knuckles were turning white.
“Dora’s a little nervous about letting go,” explained Shannon. “We’re working on ways to help her relax.”
I nodded—I knew something about that. In gymnastics, Coach Isabelle is always trying to help us relax and face our fears.
“Do you want to try my favorite trick, Dora?” I asked her. “Take a deep breath in, like this�
�” I took a deep breath.
Dora copied me, but she didn’t loosen her grip.
“Okay, now let it out,” I said, exhaling. Dora did the same. “Nice job!” I said.
Then Dora did something unexpected. She completely let go of the saddle horn with one hand and reached over to mine, wiggling her fingers. I wasn’t sure what she wanted.
“She wants to touch your hand,” explained Shannon.
I put my fingers up to Dora’s, and then we held hands. Her little hand was soft and warm in mine. I felt myself melt into a puddle. “So, Dora, what’s your favorite color?” I asked.
“Pur-ble,” answered Dora. Her voice was high and sugar-sweet.
“Okay, purple. Good!” I said. “Now picture the color purple. Breathe it in, in, in.”
Dora closed her eyes and breathed in. I noticed that as she did, her other hand relaxed a little on the saddle.
“Now, Dora, picture gray,” I said. “Breathe out gray.” I exhaled loudly, demonstrating for Dora.
Dora exhaled fast with a groan. “Oomph.” It was funny, but in a cute way. From out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Josie was watching from the mounting platform. She was smiling, too.
“Okay, one more time, Dora,” I said. “Purple in, in, in…and gray out!”
“Pur-ble in! Gray…OUT!” Dora said, shouting the last word. Already, Dora was sitting up a little straighter and clutching the saddle less tightly.
Shannon gave me a grateful smile. “Dora,” she said, “can you repeat that while you ride?”
Dora nodded enthusiastically. Then she set off around the arena, punctuating the air every few paces with “Pur-ble in! Gray…OUT!”
I watched her ride away, and then I returned to the platform to see if Josie needed help. She didn’t. This time she said she couldn’t wait to get on Pumpkin’s back. As she glanced toward the stalls, waiting for Pumpkin to enter the arena, Josie said, “So you met Dora? You were really good with her.”
At Josie’s praise, I felt a swell of pride in my chest. I scanned the arena and saw my new little friend sitting up straighter in the saddle, her pink helmet bobbing up and down.
McKenna, Ready to Fly Page 3