by Caela Carter
By the end of the date she’d had to tell him that, though she liked him, they could only be friends. For now. Until after the Olympics.
Kerry wouldn’t have minded if she dated Davion. And, though her parents were supportive when Wilhelmina had deferred her acceptance to college for a year to focus on the Olympics, it’s not like they forced her to do it. Wilhelmina had the kind of support that made gymnastics optional, so it was her own decision when she’d asked Davion to wait. And she knew she might lose him. But she also knew she was a nineteen-year-old who’d never been kissed, who’d never held a guy’s hand in a dark movie theater, who’d never had a crush. The prospect of all of that was exciting enough to become distracting. If she let him hold her hand once, she’d be fantasizing about the next time constantly. She’d be imagining kissing him in the middle of pirouettes on the high bar. The attraction to him was distracting enough. Mina couldn’t afford to add the touching. Not yet.
Davion hadn’t become her boyfriend.
He’d become her friend, her fan, her supporter. And, despite her resistance, her crush.
• • •
A light sliced across the dark hotel room. “Hey, Wilhelmina!”
She looked up to see the one person she was hating more than her roommate: Leigh. Leigh, the Mystery Vaulter. Leigh, the Dream Crusher.
“Whatcha doing in here? Just icing? I feel a little beat-up after today, too. We’re like old ladies with these aches and pains.”
Oh my God, shut up!
Wilhelmina didn’t say anything. She looked away, hoping Leigh would get the message.
Leigh reached into the ice machine next to the metal tub where Wilhelmina was soaking and stuck a cube in her mouth before filling up the plastic bucket she was carrying. Leigh smiled right at Wilhelmina with a huge ice-filled smile like she didn’t realize she’d personally threatened Wilhelmina’s life with one ten-second vault.
“So it seemed like you really rocked it today. Your floor routine was incredible. How are you feeling?” the lucky gymnast asked.
Wilhelmina couldn’t help rolling her eyes this time.
It was impossible that Leigh was beating Wilhelmina by working harder. Wilhelmina worked so hard. This girl went to high school. She was bouncy and perky and lucky and Wilhelmina was a workhorse, but luck was winning.
“Are your legs okay?” Leigh nodded toward the ice.
She just wouldn’t quit. How much clearer could Mina be?
“Fine,” Wilhelmina answered.
Please just leave so I can text my not-boyfriend.
Leigh smiled again. “Hey!” she said. “Did you hear? My brother messaged me. He was reading about the meet online and he said that apparently Katja is giving some interview about us. Tonight. First time she’s ever given a mid-meet interview. Crazy, right?”
Wilhelmina stayed very still. It was crazy. It was unprecedented. Would she give some clue as to how she planned to construct the team? Would she answer the question: Did she love winning more than she hated surprises?
“Interview?” Wilhelmina said carefully. “Where?”
“Oh, not on TV,” Leigh said. “On, like, espnW.com or something. But, you know, live. With the, like, SportsCenter reporters!”
She said this last bit like it made it all more exciting. Like hearing her name on SportsCenter was akin to competing in the Olympics.
“Yeah, well,” Wilhelmina said. “I don’t have my computer with me, so—”
“Oh my God!” Leigh squealed. “You should totally come down to our room to watch it. We all should. We can, like, watch it together, you know? Spread the word, okay? Nine o’clock. Room 203.”
Wilhelmina said nothing.
This was too weird. If Camille could be manipulative and full of drama, anyone could.
The cube of ice was visible between Leigh’s molars. “Okay. Well, see you later,” Leigh said, then darted out of the room like she didn’t want to be there in the first place.
Wilhelmina dove for her phone and let the number dial in her palm. Forget texting. She wanted to hear his voice.
“Hey, Super Woman,” Davion said as soon as he answered.
“Super Woman?” Mina asked.
“Well, you do fly,” he said.
“You are not actually here,” Wilhelmina said. Her voice sounded like someone else’s. She was giggling.
“Why do you say that?” Davion said. He giggled, too, but it was manly. His was the only manly giggle Wilhelmina had ever heard.
“You did not drive all the way from Indiana just to go to some gymnastics meet.”
“Oh!” he said. “Shoot, man, I’m at the wrong meet. I didn’t think I was at ‘some gymnastics meet.’ I thought I was at the freaking Olympic trials. I thought I was watching my friend kick ass at the freaking Olympic trials.”
“There’s no way you’re really here,” Wilhelmina said. Even though she knew he was there. Even though she believed him. She wanted to hear him say again that he’d come just for her. She wanted to hear his giggle.
Was this flirting?
“I’ll prove it to you,” he said.
“Really?” she said. Was he in the hotel? It was exciting, but not allowed. She couldn’t see him now. “How?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’m going to give you the biggest hug ever. I’ve never hugged an Olympian before.”
Wilhelmina sighed. “I might not be one, you know.”
“So?” he said. “You better be ready for it because I’m gonna hug you either way, Parker. I’ll hug you like you’ve never been hugged before.”
Maybe there could be advantages to retiring . . .
When the door swung open again, Wilhelmina hit “cancel” without even saying good-bye. She wanted to keep that voice to herself.
The figure in the doorway was only little Monica. She climbed up the side of the tub and sunk her own legs into the ice.
“Hi,” she said.
Good-bye, alone time.
Wilhelmina hated her instantly.
MONICA
Monica picked up a cube of ice and watched it melt slowly into her palm while avoiding the eyes of the superstar gymnast beside her. She had been hoping to get a minute alone. That was the reason she hadn’t wrapped her ankles in ice packs and had instead come down to the ice room in the first place: to get away from Kristin for a little while.
Kristin hadn’t known it would hurt, what she said. Or maybe she had. Well, it didn’t matter. It did hurt.
I only look bad because you were beating me.
I only look bad because you, Monica, were beating me.
I only look bad because you, Monica, suck.
Monica wasn’t the right kind of gymnast. She was the kind whose success only destroyed others—Kelly Moss, Kristin, Leigh almost—instead of counting for something on its own. So at least, in this cold, dark room, her company was someone consistently higher than her on the scoreboard.
Now I know, she thought as she watched the ice turn into a puddle and drip off her palm. Why Kristin always roomed with her. Why Leigh changed from nice to mean so quickly. Being lowest on the scoreboard had been easier on her social life.
At least that’s not me, she thought. At least when I was the one losing every meet, I was gracious to all of them. At least I’m not that ugly.
“So . . .” Monica said.
Wilhelmina scooted a bit farther from her. It stung in her heart.
Monica used to be Wilhelmina’s biggest fan. But she was here now. She couldn’t be a fan.
• • •
Five years ago, the National Championships had been held an hour outside of Monica’s hometown, and two weeks after her birthday.
Monica had expected a gift on the breakfast table as usual that day, but instead she’d found only a card. Inside there were three
tickets.
“Can you believe we get to go?” her mother had cooed. “Can you believe it’s so close to home? I thought it was the perfect gift! Because one day you’ll be there! One day little girls and their moms will be buying tickets to see you. My little girl.”
Monica’s eyes were wide. “This is a real meet?” she’d squealed. “With real gymnasts? Ones who could be in the Olympics one day?”
Her mom’s smile got a little sadder. “Well, I wanted you to be able to bring a friend. And it was sort of expensive. So I only got tickets to the juniors event. But still. They’ll be the best fifteen-year-olds on the planet.”
Monica ran at her mother and smothered her in a hug. “One day it’ll be you,” her mother whispered. “It will.”
Monica shrugged that part off. Even all of those years ago she didn’t like the pressure her mom heaped on her to be better than Monica felt she was. At ten years old, she was already training forty hours a week. She was working on routines that would qualify her for elite status one day. She was hoping to make the national JO team the next year. She was gymnast through and through. But, even at ten years old, Monica knew she wasn’t the best.
So Monica had been in the crowd when Wilhelmina was crowned the junior national champion for the first time. Wilhelmina was the first full-time gymnast Monica had met in real life. And she was so nice. After the meet, they lined up to shake her hand and get her autograph.
“I’m a gymnast, too,” Monica had said.
Back then, Wilhelmina seemed so much older than her. Like an almost-grown-up.
“Really?” Wilhelmina asked, even though there was a line of other little girls waiting to meet the new junior champion. “What’s your favorite event?”
“Bars!” Monica said, at the same time her mom said, “Floor is her best.”
Wilhelmina had smiled. “Yeah, the best is not always the most fun.”
They giggled together, and then, even though Monica was only one of dozens of girls going gaga over Wilhelmina Parker’s double Arabians and DTYs, she stood up, crossed the table, and gave little Monica a hug.
• • •
Monica hadn’t even been able to dream that she would one day compete against that gymnast.
It was amazing that Wilhelmina Parker had lasted this long, that she was still here five years later and still in great shape. She was the girl who Teeny Gymnast Monica had swooned over those years ago, and here she was, right now, sharing ice with Current Monica. The Nobody.
This morning this whole thing would have made her happy. But she couldn’t be happy now. What was the point of being so good today, of getting as high as fourth on the scoreboard, just to fall on her butt on the last rotation and have everyone hate her anyway?
“I bet you’re making it hard for Katja Minkovski to sleep tonight. She loves new gymnasts like you.”
Monica shrugged. Wilhelmina sounded nothing like the girl five years ago who stood up and walked around a table just to hug her.
“Seriously,” Wilhelmina said. “Katja loves young and skinny gymnasts.”
But Monica felt like a failure. She hadn’t met her number one goal. She hadn’t even factored into the Olympic conversation enough for Ted to say anything to her about the fall; he’d actually said that it didn’t matter. Kristin had said the same thing.
“I fell on vault,” she said quietly.
Then Wilhelmina did something shocking. She threw her head back and laughed.
Monica lowered her eyebrows. She might not be the best gymnast there, but she was sick of everyone acting like her performance was nothing. Even this girl she barely knew was laughing at her.
“Sorry,” Wilhelmina said, straightening out her face when she saw Monica’s angry look. “But your vault doesn’t matter. You know that, right?”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Nothing mattered. Her whole life Monica’s gymnastics had almost—but not quite—mattered.
“To me,” she said, trying to sound strong but instead squeaking like a mouse. “It matters to me.”
Wilhelmina nodded. “Yeah, get ready for it,” she said. “Lots of things will matter to you that don’t matter to anyone else.”
Now Monica was mad enough to talk with some actual volume.
“I know I never had a chance. I know it seems like I should be happy with three good performances. Or that I should be happy just to be alive. But I’m not. I wanted to get through the day without falling and I’m sick of everyone telling me to be happy. You wouldn’t be happy if you fell.”
Wilhelmina stared at her. Monica gripped the side of the metal tub and braced herself to endure a lecture about gratefulness: be grateful you’re young and healthy and did an amazing bars routine. Be grateful you’re not old and you might have other chances. Be grateful you’re not me for one reason or another.
When other gymnasts said these things to her, they were always secretly grateful they weren’t Monica. It’s not like she didn’t know that.
Wilhelmina said, “No chance? You think you have no chance?”
Monica shrugged. “I never really had one. Then I fell on vault.”
Wilhelmina shook her head. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I didn’t mean you don’t matter. Your vault didn’t matter because we wouldn’t need you to vault. Between Leigh and Camille and Olivia and me, I guess, we have plenty of vaulters. You know, there are only three vaulters in the Olympics.”
Monica squinted. What was this girl saying?
“You wouldn’t ever vault there anyway.”
Monica nodded. Of course she wouldn’t. She wasn’t going. But Wilhelmina did have a point. There were going to be five people on the team and only three performed on each apparatus. So Leigh’s crazy-high-scoring vault had made everything easier for her and Samantha and Maria and Annie and . . . oh, God, it still didn’t matter. She was never going. There were too many of them.
“You’re young and fresh and tiny and great on bars and amazing on floor. You are exactly what the committee is looking for. Believe me. I’ve been around long enough to know.”
Monica smiled. Wilhelmina was wrong, but Monica was sure she meant it because no one gave fake compliments while sounding that angry.
“It’s just,” Monica said. “I—I don’t care that much about Katja and them. I didn’t want to fall.”
Wilhelmina’s face softened. She squinted at Monica, but she didn’t say anything.
“You’re doing great, though,” Monica said.
Wilhelmina sighed. Then she sighed again. Monica could almost see the walls coming down behind her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “No,” she said. “For me vault is all that matters. And now I’m in third on it.” She shook her head and took a deep breath like the next thing she was going to say would be close to impossible. “I’ve been trying and trying, adding up scores and refiguring them, but I’m in fourth now and I’m scared I’ll stay there. So . . . Look, don’t tell anyone. I’m trusting you, okay? You’re like the only gymnast here young enough to still be a real person.”
“Okay,” Monica said.
“So . . . if I do come in fourth, if I can’t beat Grace or Leigh or Georgette . . . I think they’ll name me alternate.”
“No,” Monica said. “There’s still another spot open. You don’t have to beat one of them to make the team.”
It would be really hard to beat Leigh or Grace or Georgette. The three of them had taken the top three spots in every meet this summer.
“It’s not going to go to me,” Wilhelmina said. “Even if I come in fourth. Katja is mad at me. She’ll make me alternate to spite me . . . and if she does, I think I’m not going. I think I’ll retire. If I can’t beat one of those three, tomorrow’s my last day.” Her voice cracked. “Last day as a gymnast.”
Monica’s eyes went wide. She felt suddenly large, like a hippo balanced on the side
of this tub. Big and important. Why would this gymnastics superstar choose to confide in her?
“I think . . . Well, I don’t think it’ll happen . . . but I’d like to be an alternate,” Monica said, selecting these new words carefully.
“Yeah, I get that,” Wilhelmina said. “But then what would you do afterwards? After the Olympics.”
Monica shrugged. “Keep training.”
Wilhelmina nodded slowly. “See. I can’t do it. I can’t hang on another four years.” She shook her head. “I’m only nineteen, but I’m so old.”
“What about college gymnastics?” Monica asked.
Wilhelmina shrugged. “I gave up my eligibility years ago.”
Monica stared. Of course she had. Wilhelmina had been a huge star, on the brink of a World Championship until that Chinese gymnast beat her by under a point. The endorsement deals probably came knocking in full force before they fell away. So she took endorsements and went pro. Which would mean no NCAA. But Wilhelmina hadn’t made it; she wasn’t a big enough star to make more money than she’d eventually have to spend on college tuition. Monica knew that was rare. Wilhelmina had probably given up her eligibility for nothing.
“Besides,” Wilhelmina said. “I’m tired. All I’ve wanted is the Olympics for so long, for like six years. Longer than that, but I thought I had a real chance for six whole years. I don’t think I could stand the smell of a gym anymore after I miss that goal.”
Suddenly, Monica was grateful. Grateful the Olympics had never been everything to her. Grateful that she’d be back in the gym on Tuesday no matter how tomorrow turned out.
They were both quiet for a minute, their eyes studying the ice at their thighs, but there was a buzzing energy in the silence.
“Can I ask you a question?” Wilhelmina said. She didn’t wait for Monica’s response. “How do you even do this when you don’t think you have a chance?”
The Important Hippo Monica nodded and tried to take her new role seriously, being the sounding board for this kind of an athlete. She thought about her answer carefully. She turned the question over in her mind like a precious stone. But all she came up with was “I try not to fall.”