by Shaine Lake
In a sudden, violent motion, her head was jerked to the side. I could hear the cracking of the bones, and those sounds were ricocheting in my brain. It hurt.
She weakly rolled her head backwards to face the ceiling. Then her head cocked further back, as if in tune with the winding motion of the wheel.
The noise disturbances continued, as did the tilting back of her head. The rest of her body maintained the same stiff and straight position. She didn’t stop in her attempt to face me even when her head was at an unnatural angle of eighty degrees to the upright position. Her head kept on cocking downwards.
My eyelids slammed shut.
Stop it!
When I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes, she was gone.
I made a run for my classroom and reached there in minutes. I was half expecting to see the ghost in that same corner. She was, except that she was staring directly at the back wall instead.
Chapter 8 Boys?
The first year students were chatting about the prospects of entering the National Interschool Gymnastics Competition, the impressive background of our gymnastics coach and of course, how hot the boys of St. Andrew's gymnastics team were rumoured to be. The name “Jareth Michael” was mentioned a few times.
As we trekked to the neighbouring school, I was trailing behind them, thinking about all the possibilities of things going wrong for me.
Would my shorts spilt between the seams? Would they feel that I was an uncooperative snob if I refused to do the stunts? Would I fall? I might break my bones … I would be missing classes if I got hospitalized.
Given what had happened the day before, I was intending to go back on my word to Mandy since I was in no good mood to participate in group activities. All I wanted to do were hiding in a corner, avoiding those jeering looks and wallowing in self-pity. However, the girls proved to be a lot more supportive than what I had expected. They had commented about how mean the principal was, without knowing a thing about the bus incident and my injury. Kelly even went on a tirade against the oppressive figures of authority.
At that moment, I was glad to have them as classmates. They might not like me, thus minimizing the interactions with me, but they never made obvious gestures of ostracism either, unlike my elementary schoolmates. That alone gave me the extra motivation to stay on in Lawson Girls’ High, never mind the corner girl and the principal.
Mandy whirled around to check up on me. “Natalie, are you okay?”
“Yes. Good.” I touched my loosely secured bangs to confirm that they were well-clipped in place, ensuring neatness and perfect concealment of my wound.
“Don't worry. I think you’ll do great.”
I smiled in response, and then she turned back to chat with the other girls.
A senior student of our school was waiting for us at St. Andrew’s main gates. When we met up with her, she introduced herself as Rachel, third year student and captain of Lawson Girls’ High gymnastics team. A brunette with unruly, wavy short hair and dental braces, she had a warm, megawatt smile that could break any form of ice. Maybe cutting an iceberg wasn’t a tall order for her.
“Hi gals. It’s great to see all the fresh new faces. Sorry that you’ve to make your way here by yourselves.” Rachel went on to explain, “I got some urgent admin stuff to settle with the guys here.”
Almost everyone assured her that it was okay. I didn’t say anything as it was unnecessary to repeat what others had said, even though I felt the same way as them.
“Cool. Okay, let’s go. Our coach, Kenneth, is waiting in the gymnasium.” The senior began to climb up the sloped road through the main gates.
Though St. Andrew Institution could match Lawson Girls’ High in terms of age, its buildings and facilities were well-maintained and in mint condition. Their outdoor stadium looked impressive. No wonder our Track and Field team preferred to go there for practices.
The gymnasium was equally impressive. Its floor was lined with bright blue PVC Gym tiles. Attached to the high ceiling were countless of bright, white lights that shone like dazzling stars. With exception of the uneven bars, all the equipment and fixtures required for men’s and women’s events were available. And they were all amply spaced from each other.
A group of boys had gathered around the pommel horse. One of them was doing a handstand on it with his hands gripping the handles. The others were either cheering him on or doing the countdown.
When we stepped into the place, most of the boys turned towards us. I took two big steps to hide among the girls. They wouldn’t notice me even when I walked by myself, but I hated the feeling of strutting around like some kind of exhibits for people to scrutinize. In addition, my presence spoilt the wholesome image of our gymnastics team.
Rachel waved to them in a confident manner. Almost all the guys responded to her friendly gesture.
There was one in gymnastics competitive shirt and shorts—the only dude there who dressed like that. He waved and shouted, “Good afternoon, Metal Teeth!”
“Same to you, Tissue Muscles!” Rachel yelled with a wide beam on her face.
“Mr. Muscles” smiled broadly before going back to barking commands at the boy on the pommel.
Noticing that all of us were staring at her, Rachel informed, “That’s Jareth, the team captain.”
Quite a number of girls were stealing peeks at him. There were flushing faces within our group. He had an attractive outlook due to his short, tousled, yet stylish dark brown hair and sharp features. I believed that he was very proud of his physique, based on the observations that he was the only one who didn’t wear his school T-shirt.
Jareth reminded me of those half-naked men on those embarrassing, somewhat disgusting covers of romance books. A bunch of narcissist show-offs who thought that they could conquer the women with their big muscles. The main differences were that he had leaner muscles, looked smarter, a lot younger, less lecherous and not as predatory.
Rachel then revealed, “I call him ‘Tissue Muscles’ because he’d tore his muscles or tendons on quite a number of occasions while trying out those difficult drills.”
I did feel a bit sorry for him then.
“Who’s that tall, blond guy beside Jareth?” asked Fiona in a hushed voice.
It was then I noticed the blond who looked like a prince of the fairy tales … in modern clothes. He was that type of handsome guy who could take a girl’s breath away. In fact, the ugly green school T-shirt actually looked like designer wear when on him. No wonder the first year girl couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Rachel threw a glance at the boys before replying, “Brian. Vice-captain.”
“He’s so …” Fiona bit her lips to prevent herself from saying more.
“Hey, focus on our training, not on them. They’re not going to help us to get an A for ECA,” remarked Charmine, who was from Class 1/1.
Mandy shrugged while I nodded in absolute agreement. Not that I cared about scoring an A for unimportant subjects, but boys should be the last of our concerns.
Rachel waved it off. “Relax. It’s okay to check them out. Just don’t gape so much until you executed the moves improperly and get hurt.”
We giggled, only Charmine seemed unimpressed.
After an introduction to Kenneth, a man in his late twenties, not an old man with a paunch that I had expected, we headed to the restroom nearby to get into our sports attires.
When in there, I made sure my long fringe was still firmly clipped in place, just above my ear, before tying up the rest of my hair into a ponytail. I hated to do that, but there was no choice. The pulling force on my hair was getting on my nerves. A slight headache started to develop at the back of my head. I tried to ignore it because I couldn’t afford to waste my time dwelling on it. I would get left behind if I was too slow. Also, it was awkward if they chose to wait for me.
T-shirt and shorts over the gymnastics leotard—the get-up that all the girls had changed into. I was an exception since I didn’t have a leota
rd, for the obvious reason that I wasn’t sure if I was going to stay on for long in the club. When we went back into the gymnasium, I immediately regretted not buying one.
A boy—should be Brian—was doing repeated backflips across a clear area meant for floor exercise. His shirt rode up his torso whenever he was upside down. Fiona seemed thrilled to see his bare abs, but I was distressed by the thought that I didn’t wear a leotard underneath to prevent wardrobe malfunction. Then again, buying one wasn’t an option for me. That garment was too expensive to be brought for one time use only.
Do nothing drastic, and I’ll be fine. The boy on the pommel horse just now had his shirt tucked in securely under his shorts while doing the handstand … proved the method worked.
When we were instructed by the second year seniors to line up and do warm-ups, my mind was already coming up with excuses to avoid doing certain stunts. The initial exercises appeared to be non-strenuous, so I decided to try them out in order to reserve my excuses for more urgent situations. Stretching my limbs and doing those splits were actually quite easy for me.
“You do have a talent in this,” remarked Mandy, who was doing a graceful side spilt beside me.
I smiled at her. If only gymnastics consisted of stretching exercises only, I would have enjoyed it a lot more. Then the real task came.
Kenneth went up to Charmine who was first in the line, then told her to follow a second year girl’s lead. The senior stood up straight before arching backwards until her hands touched the ground. She performed that feat with nary an effort. Charmine followed suit.
The horned butterflies in my stomach were crashing into the walls with increasing speed and intensity as the coach made his way down the line. Since I was the last, the inside of my tummy felt like a bloody mess by the time he reached me.
“Your turn … eh, Lynn …” Kenneth tried to recall my name. I was the only one whose name he had forgotten. Though I expected him not to take note of my existence, I still felt quite awful about it.
“Natalie,” I corrected him in an almost inaudible voice. The pain on the back of my head was spreading.
“Oh yes! Okay, try the back arch.”
Rachel went up to my side, ready to guide me. Doing that stunt would pull the lower hem of my shirt out from underneath the shorts, so I had decided not to do it.
I didn’t try to bend backwards at the waist in spite of Rachel’s instructions. I kept my back as straight as possible instead. The loss of equilibrium caused me to fall down, landing on my backside. Rachel’s last minute attempt to prop me up did soften the impact a lot.
“It’s okay. Let’s try again,” Rachel encouraged with a gentle tone.
Frankly speaking, I didn’t want to. I felt bad enough about displaying my clumsiness in front of the most agile and graceful people. However, the prospect of revealing my bare tummy seemed more daunting.
“Come on. You can do it,” Mandy cheered me on.
It was hard for me to put a damper on my friend’s encouragement. So with great reluctance, I repeated the same routine, with the same results. Sitting down on the floor, holding my thighs close to my chest, I hung my head in shame. I swore that I would just call it quits if they refused to let me go.
Noticing that Kenneth took a glance at his watch, Rachel proposed, “For the next practice, she can come in earlier to work on this. I’ll coach her.”
He gave the thumbs-up to her suggestion. My whole body then relaxed.
“Time to try out the handstand. Follow me,” the coach announced while walking towards a corner.
When we gathered around him, he informed that as novices, we could use the wall as support to avoid tipping over. When Rachel did a demonstration of the handstand, I made a firm decision to bail out of doing it. Mandy was the first to be called to perform the feat, and she executed it beautifully.
When I saw Kenneth scanning through us to choose the next “victim”, I raised my hand. “I need to go to the restroom.”
Once he nodded, I rushed to a door at the side of the gymnasium. Hastily pulling it open and almost knocking into it during the process, I mentally scolded myself and went down a short passageway to get to that safe haven.
Upon entering the restroom, the pale pink door, which croaked at every movement, slammed shut behind me, bludgeoning the heavy silence in there. Beforehand, we had gotten a scare from it when we used the restroom for the first time. My deduction was that the hinge wasn’t working properly.
One of the taps was leaking. The water was dripping out in a slow, rhythmic fashion. The splashing of the liquid against the surface of the porcelain sounded unusually loud when there was no one else around but me.
All those broken fixtures were considered as minor issues as compared to the state of the one and only men’s restroom in my school. The door was totally gone. A rotting plywood panel was used as a makeshift screen to block the view of the interior of the restroom. I suspected that they bothered to put up a cover in front of the door due to the fact that the restroom was facing the canteen. The male teachers and staff were such poor things.…
Standing at the sink nearest to the exit and looking sideways at the leaking tap, I was half-speculating that blood might gush out from there soon. Then I became hesitant to turn on the tap in front of me.
I could be quite a coward. Being scared of almost everything.
Exhaling deeply, I gazed into the mirror to check out the image of the failure in there. Something was off about the reflection I saw.
I grimaced, and my reflection followed suit simultaneously. All of my features looked the same. Then I surveyed the surroundings through the mirror.
Light shone through a small slotted window at the top of a corner. A pot plant casted a deformed shadow onto the white tiled wall. Behind me was the restroom door that stood ajar. From my angle, I could even clearly see the spotless toilet bowls in each of the three empty cubicles. The fourth one, which was furthest away from the exit, should be unoccupied also since a notice “Do not use. Under Maintenance.” was pasted on the closed door.
All of a sudden, I realized what was wrong.
Staring down at the tap, I dared not move. However, my teeth were chattering on their own accord. I gripped the sides of the sink in futile effort to stop the obvious trembling of my hands. My head hurt.
No.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before I heard a creaking sound, followed by loud thud. I took a deep breath to ready myself. Keeping my eyes closed, I spun around to reach for the door handle. Right when my hand came into contact with the cold metal, I curled my fingers around it and then yanked with all of my might.
Not willing to see what could be around and waiting for me, I stumbled through the door based on general feel and direction. After gaining some distance away from the restroom, I opened my eyes and dashed out to the main area of the gymnasium.
The senior girls were taking turns to jump over the vault while doing a centre spilt. The rest of my schoolmates were sitting on the floor and observing the senior girls performing the drills. I hurried over to join Mandy.
Then a figure appeared at the opened main entrance. A school bag and a guitar case were slung over his shoulder. As that guy in T-shirt and gymnastics longs strolled into the hall, I recognized him.
Chapter 9 Love?
It was unbelievable … that boy was in the gymnastics team. I had assumed he joined the guitar club only.
“He’s here later than usual,” murmured Rachel, who was resting by our side.
Mandy immediately regarded the senior with an unwavering focus. “Who’s he?”
“Anton. A third year. He never starts on time, but he also ends his training later than the other dudes.”
The latecomer swaggered to the shelves at a corner, then took out some items from his bag before pushing it into one of the empty slots. The guitar was put aside to be leaning against the wall. A middle-aged, small-framed man, who was St. Andrew’s gymnastics coach, jogged to Anton afte
r spotting him.
The guys paid no heed to the arrival of their teammate. There was neither greeting nor acknowledgement of his presence. They treated him as if he was transparent. Jareth, the team captain who was supposed to uphold the team spirit, just threw a glance at Anton and went on to perform a series of flips, twists and somersaults in one smooth routine. I had to say Jareth had some impressive skills. That fellow was probably very aware of it because after finishing his moves, he made a victory pose with obvious pride and a smug look on his face.
Quite a number of girls were drooling over the captain … not literally. I thought he was pretty cool, but still, there was no excuse for him to treat Anton in such a hostile manner. Popular guys like Jareth would never understand how bad it felt to be side-lined. And why should they care anyway? People like us could only count on ourselves to make it through anything.
While putting on the wrist guards, Anton was listening intently to his coach’s instructions. I couldn’t stop staring at him when he was looking attentive. He might not be as suave when in T-shirt, but that expression on his face was more than enough to make up for everything.
Mandy tapped me on my shoulder. “Natalie, your turn soon.”
Being too engrossed in checking out Anton, I hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on in my own team. The sudden requirement to switch my focus threw me off. All the excuses I had listed in my head were blown away to a faraway land in an instant.
The slow-witted me had no idea on how to get out of that. After Fiona failed to propel herself over the vault due to the lack of strength, it was time for me to face the music. My headaches were getting more intense, distracting me.
“Just give it a try,” said Kenneth.
Did I have other choices? At least, I didn’t need to flip upside down for the vault. It was better for me to quickly get over with it, so I wouldn’t hold up the line.
I ran down the runway towards the seemingly hulking structure. When my feet made contact with the springboard, I opted to make a half-hearted small jump to show that I had tried. The moment my hands landed on top of the horse, one of them slipped. Despite the almost non-existent jump I had made, I was in mid-air when my hand failed me. While crashing towards the floor, I was unlucky enough to hit my chin on the surface of the vault.