The Accident

by Devyn Forrest

  When we got to Jeanine’s little one-bedroom bungalow house, we found that she had already started Thanksgiving dinner. She said things matter-of-factly, like, “You have to start the turkey early,” and “I got the pumpkin pie recipe from Pinterest.” We settled on her couch and watched some of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, which Jeanine had recorded for us, and gossiped a bit. I couldn’t believe that Chloe had revealed my hormonal sexual side, but there was also something cozy about knowing that Jeanine had a better view into my life. She had been something of a mother-figure to me. And I not only cherished her as a friend but someone that could give me motherly advice when I needed it.

  From the kitchen, Jeanine let out a wild screech. Smoke billowed out and swept over us. Chloe and I burst up to see Jeanine yank out a singed turkey. She scrunched her nose and smacked the turkey on the kitchen counter and cried, “Goddamit!”

  I cackled and hustled into the kitchen. “Oh, boy. That doesn’t look good.”

  Jeanine drew off her oven mitts and gazed down at the monstrous-looking burnt turkey with this air of devastation. “I really wanted to give you a good Thanksgiving.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. I shrugged and glanced back at Chloe. “I think it’s already been really, really good for us.”

  “I can second that,” Chloe added.

  In the end, Chloe, Jeanine, and I loaded back into her car and headed up to the diner, where I had worked since I had been fourteen years old. Especially since Marcia’s husband had died the previous year, Marcia kept the place open twenty-four hours a day, no matter what. I spotted her from the window in the afternoon light. She arranged forks and knives in their little buckets, and the light reflected off her fuzzy white-blonde bob. The second we parked, I rushed inside and appeared in the doorway. Marcia blinked up, and her expression changed. The biggest smile erupted onto her face and then she ran toward the door and wrapped me into a perfect hug before she burst out, “My girl! She’s back! She came back to us!”

  Marcia set Jeanine, Chloe and I up with the ideal Thanksgiving meal. She paraded in some onion rings and salad to start off with, then platters of turkey sandwiches, with mashed potatoes and gravy. To top it off, she then served us her famous pumpkin pie.

  “Omg, this was so delicious,” Chloe affirmed. Her lips glistened with the remains of the pie. I leaned back in my chair, feeling like I would need a wheel barrel to get me out the door. I hadn’t eaten that much in a long time.

  Marcia gabbed to us for a bit about how she had gone on a date recently with a regular, and it hadn’t gone well, to put it lightly. Now, she had lost both a customer and a friend. “That’s the breaks when you get older, honey,” she sighed. “The world closes down bit by bit until you feel like you missed last call.”

  Jeanine’s eyes turned down toward her plate. Unsure of what to do, I jumped up and rushed to the jukebox. I grabbed a quarter and played an old Billy Joel song I knew Marcia loved, “Just the Way You Are.” She squeezed my arm and said, “My girl, you always know just what to do to cheer me up. Oh, and that bicep! You’re getting stronger and stronger up there at school.”

  She bragged about me a bit to Chloe and pointed up at the newspaper clipping on the wall when I had been covered for being a foster kid who had entered Denver Athletics. In turn, I bragged about Chloe, how she had become the fastest female swimmer at the school and had her eyes on the Olympics, just like I did. We then recited our fair share of French phrases, and Marcia and Jeanine practiced along with us until we devolved into fits of laughter.

  After a while, we said our goodbyes and Jeanine drove us back to school that night. Chloe and I both had practice in the morning, and, as the day dripped to darkness, both of our heads had begun to think about thoughts of trials and Nationals. Jeanine could see it, too. “I’m glad you took today off,” she said when we reached the main stone building. “I can see it in you girls. It’s hard for you to tear yourselves away from the only thing you really, really care about.”

  I hugged Jeanine a final time, and then Chloe and I cut across the chilly campus, back toward our dorm room. We slept that night soundly, and I didn’t dream—maybe because the entire day had been a picture-perfect photograph, something that I maybe didn’t deserve, but something my heart had really needed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Everyone returned back from Thanksgiving rejuvenated and with these ego-centric, demeanors. It felt a lot like everyone had sat at Thanksgiving dinners across the country and heard from their parents just how strong, capable and deserving they were of Nationals and had yanked that energy along with them back to Denver Athletics. “Four more weeks till Christmas,” everyone recited to one another in the halls. And everyone seemed to burn with this endless drive. Admittedly, in the wake of Jeanine and Chloe and I’s adventure to the diner (albeit a much smaller journey than many of the students’ at Denver Athletics), I showed up to my 5:30 a.m. practice that Saturday with intense energy. Coach Jonathon commented on it several times throughout my work out on the balance beam.

  “Yes, Rooney. I see it in you. Tuck it—now—faster—yes!”

  I performed like a girl that couldn’t give up. I felt kind of outside of myself like my muscles performed the actions without my go-ahead, but they performed them perfectly, like a supercomputer. After an hour on the beam, Coach Jonathon hunkered over to a few of the other girls and left me to rest. I sat at the edge of the beam and let my legs dangle.

  Poppy stood near the uneven bars, about twenty feet from where I sat. She listened to Coach Jeremy spit words at her, and she nodded with a stoic face. I felt another stab of sadness for her. Jeremy had recently increased his angry rants at her. Of course, against everything I believed in, the rants had seemed to put a fire in Poppy’s belly. She performed better than ever. Coach Jonathon had noticed it, too, and had tried his hand at Jeremy’s tactics with me. In the midst of it, I had given him this horrible, dirty look, and he knew he overstepped and took a step back. He was good at what he did and he really didn’t need to change his routine at all.

  Poppy’s eyes sparkled over to me. When she saw that I watched, she swept around and then leaped to grab the lower bar. She flapped her legs like a mermaid and yanked herself up before she whipped around in a mesmerizing, completely feminine way. I had heard about some girls in gymnastics going into pole dancing, due to our upper body strength. Of course, Poppy came from a hefty amount of cash, which meant she would never have to do that to stay alive. No. That sort of thing was the kind of thing a girl like me might have done.

  That is unless I dug myself out of this hole once and for all.

  I was so focused on her performance that I didn’t notice Theo beside me. When I spotted him, I craned my head around and blinked at him as I inhaled his woodsy scent. He wore no shirt, just a spandex pair of pants, and his abs glistened while his blonde curls tossed along his ears. His blue eyes twinkled as he looked up at me, and he reached up—as though nobody else was around—and wrapped a tender hand around my ankle.

  “You killed it today,” he said. He sniffed and used his other hand to wipe off a bead of sweat from his forehead.

  “Thanks. I would say you killed it, too, but to be honest, I hardly noticed you,” I said. This was, of course, a lie. He had worked the floor routine that morning, springing himself so high in the air that he’d been able to do a triple flip, then land perfectly on his feet like nothing had happened.

  “Cold, Rooney Calloway,” he said and bit his fist jokingly. Still, he held my eyes. “I don’t know, do you want to come with me? I just ran out of water.”

  My water bottle was nearly full, but I shrugged off the balance beam and landed with a soft thud on the blue mat. I stretched out my head from side to side and heard light cracks in my neck. “Let’s go.”

  Theo ducked into the little hallway that led out to the drinking fountain. The second we were out of everyone’s sight, Theo’s fingers strung through mine, and he stepped closer against me so that m
y upper thigh was against his lower thigh, his hips were just above mine. For a moment, with his fingers tight over mine, I forgot to breathe.

  “So, how was your Thanksgiving?” he asked. His voice was clear and confident. I knew he was trying to make small talk.

  “It was good,” I said and matched his tone. “I was here, and then my old trainer picked Chloe and me up and we had turkey dinner at the diner I used to work at.”

  Theo halted quickly and gaped at me. His eyes twinkled with humor. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Excuse me? Sorry if it doesn’t suit you,” I shrugged. “But, it suits me.”

  “No. It’s just. I can’t imagine the whole thing, you know? The awkward family encounters and too much stuffing and all this turkey that makes you want to just explode and get it over with. And my dad pestering me about my training schedule and about Nationals and about…” His words fell off, and he stepped forward. I hustled to keep up with him. We whisked past the drinking fountains and surged ahead, all the way to the far end of the hallway, where he pressed at a spare closet door and opened it.

  Inside was mostly dark and musty, with a little window at the top of the wall that let in only grey light, due to its layer of dust. I grinned up at him and splayed my hands across his chest and before I knew what to do next, his lips were over mine. He kissed me hungrily and his tongue parted my lips and his breath was hot and his chest dribbled sweat across my leotard and skin. My hand wrapped across the bulge in his shorts, and he reared back and whispered, “How could I resist you? Watching you train today like that? Holy shit, Rooney, you’re…”

  His fingers traced down my breasts and turned little circles over my nipples, making them rock hard. I dropped my head back and let out a low sigh. The space between my thighs grew wet and warm and his right hand curved down to my lower abdomen. His eyes glinted, and then he kissed me again as his hand dropped down to my pussy and his finger traced over my slit.

  Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. We stopped kissing and sucked in a breath, a bit too loudly, and gaped at each other. The voices belonged to Coach Jeremy and Coach Jonathon, and they came from just outside the door. In a panicked second, I thought for sure they might enter the closet itself—but for what? There was nothing there except an old broken broom and cleaning supplies.

  “You have to be careful about what you say to the girls,” Coach Jonathon hissed. “You’re too aggressive, Jeremy, and it’s obvious that…”

  “What’s obvious?” Coach Jeremy demanded. “Is it obvious to you that Poppy is getting better and better? That my tactics are fucking working? Because that’s obvious to me. Hell, I think she could go to Nationals right this second and fucking win. Can you say the same thing about Rooney?”

  “Well, hang on a second, because I’m not just training Rooney.” Coach Jonathon returned. “I have a whole damn team to train. I was supposed to have Poppy until her mother hired you.”

  “Don’t dwell in the past, Jon. Seriously. Just stay in your damn lane, and I’ll stay in mine, okay? We’ll see who has the best girl at Nationals, won’t we? And who knows what will happen after that. I could talk to Mr. Piper about having me on as a full-time trainer, maybe. Just watch your back, Jon. You thought you could come in here and have this cushy six-figure a year training position, and the rest of your life would be golden. Think again, okay?”

  Coach Jeremy stalked away and I didn’t dare breathe until we knew that Coach Jonathon had left as well, his shoes squeaking.

  “He really needs to get a different pair of tennis shoes,” Theo muttered.

  “Shit. That was close.” I bowed my head forward and wrapped my arms around his waist. I shivered a bit. “He’s right. Jeremy is very cruel to Poppy.”

  “What do you care?” he asked, looking down at me. “She tried to kill you, like, multiple times. At least with Jeremy around, she has complete focus on the main thing she hates—herself.”

  “Fuck. Truth bomb with Theo Everton,” I said.

  Again, there were footsteps down the hall. In the distance, we heard Mr. Everton’s voice call out. ”Hey! Coach! Yeah, I can’t find Theo anywhere. Know where he ran off to?”

  Theo’s eyes nearly bugged from his head. He leaped toward the door and kept his ear to it. He lifted a finger to me, as though I was meant to remain right there, without a sound. When the coast was clear, we crept back into the hallway and dipped our separate ways. He winked as we parted, and my heart swam with excitement.

  When I reached the gym, however, I nearly ran head-long into Mr. Everton. I hadn’t seen him since I had started training again, and his grin was enormous as he held out his hands and cried, “Rooney! Coach Jonathon told me that you’ve really been training hard since you’ve been back. That’s so great. I knew you would.”

  Would he be so thrilled if he knew the foster kid had been kissing his son in the closet? The girl from nothing? That must have mattered to him on some level. To him, maybe, I was just meat and bone, the only thing he could shove in the face of his once-Olympic rival and say, “See? You ruined your life. You didn’t really win.”

  But in fact, hadn’t both of them won? Mr. Everton had more money than God himself, a beautiful mansion in the Rocky Mountains, and Rudy Eyser had opened a school and had a beautiful cheerleader-coach wife and two children. That first kid that had been a first try. He’d needed a re-do.

  “It’s really good to be back on the mat,” I said instead. “I have a really good feeling about Nationals.”

  “Thatta girl,” he returned. “Hey. I asked around and heard that you didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving. If that happens again at Christmas, I insist that you come over to my house. We have so many extra bedrooms that you could have your pick. We would love to have you and to see you relax and enjoy your Christmas.”

  He spoke with excitement like he wanted to be the person to offer me the entire world. I smiled at him, not knowing what to say, so I just hesitated and then he clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Just think about it! But I really think it would be a good thing, don’t you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mr. Everton’s invitation hovered over me throughout the next few weeks. I could feel my muscles tighten, could sense Coach Jonathon’s continued thought that I grew stronger and better as I pushed myself to the hilt. He had me in to train a full hour after the rest of the girls left, which was exactly the schedule that Poppy and Coach Jeremy operated on. This meant that when the entire gym was empty, Poppy and I remained on, often on different sections of the mat. Occasionally, we would lock eyes with one another whenever one of our coaches was in the midst of telling us something. The intensity between us in the room was palpable.

  Usually, Poppy and I took turns in the locker room—both careful to keep our distance. It allowed us to solely focus on our training. But on December 10th, Coach Jonathon informed me that the janitors wanted to clean the gym and everyone had to get to the locker room quickly and then get out. This meant that I appeared inside the locker room, across the tiles from Poppy, as she stripped down from her leotard.

  “You like what you see?” she scoffed. Her body was pert and toned as she sauntered over to the showers and sprung on the water at her usual faucet.

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to goad her. I also stripped and hustled to the other side of the shower. I stood to face the wall and felt the warm stream of water pour over my chest.

  “Coach Jonathon is jealous of Jeremy, you know,” Poppy said. Her voice was like a razor through the air.

  “I don’t think he’s worried about anything.” My words echoed off the tile. “We’re all just focused on Nationals.”

  “We’re all just focused on Nationals. Listen to yourself. You sound like some soccer mom or something—always seeing the positive side of things. It’s bullshit.”

  “What?” I demanded.

  There was a flurry behind me. I froze. I felt her breath hot on my neck. “What the fuck
are you doing, Poppy? Nobody else is in here. Everybody will believe me if I say what you do…”

  Poppy’s laugh twinkled. “I love it when you threaten me. You do a really shitty job of it.”

  I swallowed and glanced down at the floor. With as much bravery as I could muster, I swung around and faced her. She stood there with a huge, five-blade razor right there, just an inch from my face. My eyes widened.

  “You wouldn’t,” I muttered.

  Poppy arched her perfectly-plucked brow. “Wouldn’t I? I mean, what about me tells you that I wouldn’t just…” She drew the razor a bit closer to me so that it nearly grazed my cheek.

  I ripped my hand up to whack the razor away. She started to laugh and held her hands across her abs. Her body was perfect and it glistened in the light that came from the fogged-up windows. “God, you’re such a spazz,” she said. She cut back to her shower and grabbed her shampoo and squelched it into her hand. “You know, you really should shave your legs. I can see those thick hairs from here. You’ve got that dark hair and it’s not like the boys won’t notice. Even if you sneak off to god-knows-where with Theo in the middle of practice.”