That night at dinner, Chloe sat across from me at our once-usual table like nothing had happened. Immediately, my shoulders loosened, and my heart fluttered. I dropped my fork in my salad bowl and looked at her with enormous eyes. I wanted to ask why she had changed her mind. Instead, she stabbed a slice of chicken with her fork and muttered, “I am so goddamn tired of eating healthy.”
I chuckled. “I know. I would kill for a slice of pizza with double cheese right now.”
“Blah blah, everything for our goals, and future,” she grunted as she played with her food. Her eyes still looked wounded, her cheeks hollow with fatigue. But her expression had shifted from one of disinterest and pain to one of sincere friendship. I guess she’d just needed a few days to mull over what had happened and come to terms with it. I had to understand that.
The Brotherhood marched past our table. I caught Clinton’s eyes as they passed by, and he winked at me cruelly, in this way that made me remember that he knew my body, knew what it was like when I came in his arms. My right hand drew into a fist. Chloe noticed right away, blinked down at it and whispered, “What’s going on with all that, anyway?”
I dropped my chin to my chest. “Guys are so fucking complicated, aren’t they?”
“That’s what I’ve heard. Luckily for me, Max is simple. He just likes making out, eating chocolate, and watching stunt shows. Honestly, if he asked me to marry him tomorrow, I would do it.”
“I can’t believe we’re seventeen years old now,” I murmured. “And life is so damn complicated. And sex is so complicated. And nobody reacts the way you think they will. And you just feel so generally lost all the time and… and I’m starting to think that maybe this is forever.”
Chloe’s face grew pinched. “What? Seventeen? Fuck, when was your birthday? You can’t just let it slip that you’re older now and not think I’ll notice.”
I told her. She rolled her eyes for the seventh time during our conversation and cried, “You have got to tell me these things happen. That’s what friends do, Rooney Calloway. We’re here for each other. You got that?”
I chewed at my unseasoned slice of chicken for a long time and gave her a shrug. “This chicken is so fucking bland.”
“I’ll let you out of the conversation this time,” Chloe returned. “But next time, if you let anything slip past, I will destroy you. And you saw what I did to Poppy.”
I chewed on my straw as I eyed her and grinned before I held up my hands like she had a gun drawn on me. “I will. I won’t mess with those muscles, girl!” I cried out and started laughing. It was so good to have my friend back in my life. The stress and weight of it all were gone. God knew I already had enough shit to deal with.
“If I have to eat kale and chicken salads for the rest of my life, I will die. That’s it. It’s over,” Chloe sighed.
Chapter Nineteen
But just because Chloe had decided to let everything go, didn’t mean the rest of the school wanted anything to do with me. In some ways, this was a blessing. By early March, my training had grown to a rigid wild intensity, and I spent every waking moment studying, stretching, leaping over a balance beam, eating vegetables or protein shakes, and thinking about sleep. Chloe and I would sit in the dining hall with half-opened eyes and write poems about how much we wanted to sleep or just do a cheat day and binge on chocolate.
“The greatest dream of all is just to dream,” Chloe murmured, looking at me.
“That’s beautiful. And oh so boring,” I returned and made a face. My Brussels sprouts grew cold and mushy on my plate as I stared at them.
“I would love to be bored,” Chloe sighed and leaned back in her chair, clearly frustrated. “I think maybe if you’re bored, you actually have thoughts other than—when is practice? Am I late to practice? Only thirty more minutes of practice! Oh my god, that was only the first practice of the day.”
“Oh, between that poem and this one, I guess it is possible to be bored! Thanks so much for making that possible for me,” I teased.
Chloe lifted a Brussels sprout onto her fork and yanked the teeth back. The Brussels sprout drew a beautiful parabola through the air and whacked me on the cheek. The second it smacked my cheek, Poppy and Coach Jeremy sauntered past the table. I sat with a green smudge across my cheek and gave Poppy a wide, annoying grin. The second I did, however, Coach Jeremy’s hand again fluttered down her back, close to her ass. My smile fell. Poppy blinked away, as though she didn’t want to see my reaction. I turned back to Chloe, and my heart raced. I hadn’t told Chloe what I thought I had seen back in late October. In the wake of that incident, or non-incident, I hadn't seen anything besides Coach Jeremy’s near-constant screaming sessions at Poppy—telling her to jump higher or be tighter.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?” Chloe muttered. “And remember. You’re not allowed to keep things from me anymore.”
“I’ll tell you later,” I said, pushing out my chair and standing up.
Back in our dorm room, Chloe and I stretched on the floor and I explained to her what I had thought I had seen back in October, the kind of alienating structure of Poppy and Coach Jeremy’s relationship, and how I had tried to get Poppy to talk about it, but she had pushed me away.
“So you’re saying your number one enemy might actually be getting abused?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. Her face looked incredulous as she tried to process the new information.
“I don’t know. I don’t really have proof or anything, but I think I know what I saw,” I said matter of fact and then continued. “And Poppy might never admit it. It’s true that Coach Jeremy is making her so much better. Like, a lot better. But his work schedule is brutal. Coach Jonathon has stopped saying that I’m definitely going to win Nationals. I think he and Coach Jeremy fucking hate each other. It feels like it’s become a competition between the two. But maybe I’m failing him? I don’t know.”
“Whatever happens, I know you’re going to do fantastic,” Chloe returned. “You have worked your ass off and that’s all that counts—that you do your best. They can’t ask or expect anything more than that from anyone.”
“There you go again. Speaking like an inspirational poster,” I grinned.
Chloe shrugged and didn’t speak for a moment. She stretched deeper and let out a little moan. “What do you want to do, then? Tell? Ask Poppy again? Maybe she’s ready to talk.”
“I’ll think about it. Again, I don’t really know anything. I don’t have proof. And everyone’s so fucking stressed about Nationals,” I answered.
“Yeah. So much rides on Nationals every year. And it gives the school a sense of how many of us might head off to the Olympics next year. It’s crazy to think about, but this really does set the stage for the next year and a half.”
“Paris,” I whispered and cringed in excitement. The word felt enormous, heavy. It was a concept I had dreamed of since I was a little girl. Eighteen years old, at the Paris Olympics. It was my only option. At twenty-two years old, I will have largely aged out of the gymnastics program.
“Paris,” Chloe recited back.
I lay back on the floor and Chloe followed suit. We stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Outside, we heard some girls tap down the basement hallway; their words were muffled and strained. We weren’t the only ones who felt stressed and at the end of our rope.
“Have you talked to the Brotherhood at all lately?” Chloe asked.
My heart thudded sadly. “No. Hardly, I guess. I saw Zed out on a run in the woods the other day, and he took another path to avoid me altogether. Clinton has been more arrogant than ever. And Theo—well. He alluded that I might have really hurt him.”
“He’s the one that told that you guys had sex,” Chloe pointed out. I watched as her forehead creased with confusion, not understanding.
“Sure. I know. But maybe that doesn’t matter all that much. I thought that…” I sighed. A wave of emotion fell over me. I had wanted the boys more than anything, wanted their
love, their teasing and their friendship. “Money complicates everything. I just never really knew that I guess. I never had it before.”
“It’s weird that everyone still kind of blindly goes along with whatever Poppy says,” Chloe murmured. “She’s obviously horrible, and most of the school would push her off a mountain if they could. But she hates you, she spreads this information about you—and the rest of the school just follows suit like it’s gospel. I guess it doesn’t help that most girls want to sleep with Theo and you did that. We can’t underestimate jealousy.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I eased to my feet, and my knees cracked beneath me. I scrubbed my eyes and slowly climbed into bed. Once on the mattress, I fell asleep immediately. What seemed like five minutes later was the next morning when my alarm clock blared for five a.m. Another day of brutal practice began.
Chapter Twenty
Nationals were to be held on Saturday, April 15, at the Seattle Eyser Athletic Academy. This was the largest facility base in the Northwest, the part of the United States where Nationals were held every ten years. Three days prior to the event, those who had qualified were carted to the Denver Airport for take-off. Only the top three in every sport, for each gender, were allowed to go—which meant that including volleyball, gymnastics, running, and swimming, we had only twenty-four Denver athletes competing in Nationals.
We took up a good deal of a plane: all of us in our shiny tracksuits, with the Denver Top-Level Athletics coat of arms stitched on the back. Chloe and I sat together just behind Poppy and Coach Jeremy, who had recently begun to feel like they were attached at the hip—although I still hadn’t collected any kind of evidence that could be used against Coach Jeremy. Ashley, the swimmer, sat across the aisle from Chloe and I, and the Brotherhood were several rows behind us. Mr. Piper sprung up from his seat and addressed us before the plane was cleared to travel.
“Denver Athletics! Here we are today, heading off for Nationals. I can’t begin to describe how proud I am of each and every one of you. You’ve fought valiantly to get into Denver Athletics, and now you’ve fought to be the best in your particular sport in our incredibly tough and gut-wrenching environment. Remember that, before each of your races or contests this weekend. If you have the drive to push yourself this far, then why not go all the way? You owe it to yourself.”
Chloe squeezed my hand so hard that she left bright white zebra streaks across my palm. I didn’t know if the panic came from the plane, or from the anxiety of the upcoming contest, or what, but I swam in my own pot of fear. The plane’s wheels lifted from the tarmac and I felt them crank back into the belly of the monstrous steel bird. Nothing about it seemed logical or right, not after over seventeen years of never lifting off the ground unless my muscles had done it for me.
On the way to Seattle, I couldn’t help but imagine what it might have been for Rudy Eyser en route to Seattle. If what Mr. Everton suspected was true, he had dropped off his child, his last link to his now-dead wife, Zelda Parkington, and then he had escaped for good. He must have felt weightless, free, and awake to an entirely new reality, a new start in life. Had he regretted it at all? Had he searched for me at all, wondered what I had thought or found out? Or had he assumed that I wouldn’t remember and therefore would never find out or go searching?
A coincidence. Maybe that’s what it was, that now drew Rudy Eyser and I back together. I shivered and Chloe squeezed my hand again. I remembered the panic in her voice a few days before when Max had told her that he hadn’t been picked to go to Nationals. It had pained her to see him so disappointed since she knew how much Max gave to his sport. “I don’t want him to feel like he’s being left behind,” she had said. “And I’m going to miss him so much.”
The flight was a little more than two hours. We had a smooth landing. Our wheels kissed the ground and surged us forward, and I felt a funny release in my stomach like I had been tense the entire time and could breathe again.
“That’s your second granola bar of the flight,” Coach Jeremy muttered one row ahead of us.
“I’m starving, Jeremy,” Poppy whispered. “I feel dizzy, coach.”
“You have to keep it up. You’re so close. If you have one ounce of too much added sugar, you could screw up the delicate balance in your body,” Coach Jeremy returned.
Chloe and I exchanged glances. She mouthed, What the hell? And I cringed. Their relationship was tainted and strange. But was it sexual? I gave a light shrug as the safety belt sign clanged off and all of us from Denver Athletics burst up and grabbed our things. Poppy spun around to glance behind her, and locked eyes with me. Coach Jeremy barreled through the crowd to grab their carry-ons from a few rows away.
Suddenly, Chloe spoke. “Hey, Poppy.”
Poppy’s eyes darted toward Chloe, in a menacing way. She didn’t respond.
“We just wanted to let you know that you can talk to us about anything. Anything at all. If you need something,” Chloe continued. She half-gestured with her head toward Coach Jeremy and cleared her throat. “Seriously. We don’t have to dwell on the past if there are more important things to talk about.”
“Fuck off,” Poppy spat. She yanked out of her row and took her carry-on from Jeremy, who muttered something in her ear. They then joined the line that snaked out of the airplane.
“That went well,” Chloe offered and shrugged her shoulders as she inched her way from her seat.
“At least she didn’t break anything on my body again,” I scoffed. “Sometimes, you have to take that as a win.”
“You’re so positive today!” Chloe cried.
When I sidled into the aisle, I found myself directly in front of Zed. I turned my head a bit and gazed into those beautiful green eyes. I ached to speak with him again. He had been the one I had felt most emotionally connected to since he had told me so much about his family back home. His chest shifted against my back.
“I’m glad you made it, Zed,” I murmured, just loud enough for only him to hear.
His smile was genuine. After a pause of surprise, he replied, “I’m really glad you’re here, too. Although I couldn’t have imagined anyone else making it. You. Poppy. Who else do we have, really?”
“Ha. Don’t let Mallory hear you,” I whispered.
Slowly, we eased out of the plane, one by one. Zed continued to speak in a low tone. “Everyone’s been so fucking focused on Nationals. I’m sorry that it’s been kind of weird between all of us. Especially since it came out about Mr. Everton.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I returned. “It’s in the past and I’m over it already.”
Zed nodded. His eyes seemed far away. “I probably would have done the same. I have a similar scholarship to you, maybe. But my parents just scraped together the last of it for me. And fuck, it makes me feel guilty. Especially now that they’re, you know killing their bank accounts to finalize this divorce they are going through. Imagine that. Imagine hating someone so fucking much that you’re willing to pay some stranger to make it legal.”
We walked out of the plane, and I slowed to walk directly next to him. With my free hand, I squeezed his upper arm and said, “You know, we can talk about this whenever you want. I’m here for you, Zed.”
“I should have been here for you, too,” Zed returned, palming the back of his neck as he walked alongside me. “We’re all just fucking egotistical assholes, huh?”
I laughed at that and stared down at my feet as we continued to walk. “I guess. But now we’re at Nationals. People are literally coming from all over the world to watch us be egotistical assholes.”
“Sounds like the only career I want in the world.” Zed grinned.
There was this stunning view of Mount Rainier from the airport lobby. When I walked past, my eyes grew to saucers. I gaped at the beautiful mountain, at the fog that lurked around it. When we burst outside, the rain was heavy and the air felt somber and more humid than I had ever experienced in Denver. I coughed and said, “It’s hard to breathe the air here!”
Zed said it was much similar to the air back in the east. I peered curiously at the strange trees that lined the edge of the airport grounds, so thick and dark green. Denver was largely a brown place, a dusty place. A place where it hardly rained.
How had Rudy Eyser grown up in Denver and then chosen here—this wet cloud-like place? This place that seemed outside of time?
There was a shuttle bus to take us to our hotels. Chloe and I shared a bedroom with two queen-sized beds and a view of the Seattle space needle, which was incredible. We leaped up on the mattresses and jumped around on them like children. Our hair bounced and our voices echoed across the walls. The television on the nightstand had over forty channels, none of them anything I recognized. We tore through them, with Chloe’s finger on the remote control. The hotel had given us a gift basket of fruits and cookies and nuts, and together we split an Oreo approximately 50% down the middle and ate it slowly. “When Nationals are over, I’m going to eat an entire pack and not even tell you about it,” Chloe said. “It will be the best day of my life.”
The Accident Page 14