by Lucia Franco
It wasn't uncommon for parents to arrive separately from their children. Gymnasts always traveled together with their coaches. We'd sleep together, eat together, get ready before the competition. We needed our heads in the game and our focus on the sport. No outsiders influencing us negatively, like pushy parents who lived vicariously through their children.
"Yes?" Kova continued, looking at all the girls, except me. My stomach clenched, I felt a little left out. "Sound good? Okay, let us go."
It was much colder in Pennsylvania than I expected. I was freezing, and I could tell Reagan was too by how hard her teeth chattered and the way she held herself. Even though we didn't see eye to eye on many things, okay, everything, I felt bad. I reached into my bag and wordlessly handed her an extra scarf I had. She accepted it with a tightlipped smile and wrapped it around her neck. Scarves made all the difference, and I knew she was thankful, even though she didn't say it.
The rest of the day was quiet and simple. After we checked into the hotel, we got settled in our room. There were two queen beds and one bath to be shared by Holly, Reagan and myself.
We all kept to ourselves and didn't speak much. I knew the girls focused on their routines and replayed them in their heads over and over and over. They set their sights on the meet. The steel determination on their faces said enough. They knew what to expect, and held their composure impeccably, like little toy soldiers. I took satisfaction in seeing this from a different perspective.
Later the girls went over their schedule with Madeline and Kova, followed up by a light dinner, where we ate next to nothing. Typical before a meet. No water weight, no bloating, no carbs, ribs protruding, and airy on your feet.
Once I dozed off to sleep early that night, a nudging startled me.
"Adrianna," someone whispered. I stirred, shifted in the bed, but not fully waking up. "Adrianna." The voice was sharper this time and so was the elbow to my side. I opened my eyes to find Reagan hovering over me. She had a pinched face to begin with, but now it scrunched up as she held a cell phone to my face.
I pulled back. "What the fuck are you doing, Reagan?"
"Your phone won't stop beeping."
"What?" My voice sounded rough from sleep. I felt like I'd just gone to bed. My eyes burned with fatigue.
Reagan held the phone closer to my face. She scowled. "You keep getting text messages and it's keeping me awake," she whispered harshly in my face.
I sat up on my elbow and looked to my right. Holly was asleep. I grabbed my phone and read the front of the screen.
My stomach sank. I had four missed messages from Kova. All within a few minutes apart, but luckily the text itself didn't show up on the screen. I had that feature turned off long ago.
"Why is Coach Kova texting you and no one else?"
I glowered. "How the hell should I know?"
We both laid back down and I placed my thumb on the home button to unlock my phone. Reagan’s hot breath hit my neck.
"Back the fuck off, Regina." I cupped the phone to my chest and read the messages. I had a privacy screen on it, so she wouldn't be able to read much, but still.
Coach: Are you awake?
Coach: Tomorrow you will see why you are here and why I did what I did.
Coach: Just trust me on this. I only want the best for you.
Coach: I am sorry for being an egotistical dickhead and ignoring you. XX
I smiled to myself. Egotistical dickhead were words I used on him last week. I exited my messages and powered my phone off. Rolling over, I slid it under my pillow and curled up under the covers.
"What did he want?"
"Just to go over tomorrow since I'm not competing." She ate the lie right up.
She paused for a second. "He shouldn't be texting you, you know."
"And you shouldn't be snooping."
"It doesn't look right."
I was quick. "The only reason it doesn't look right is because you're making it not look right. What are you getting at?"
"I want to know what he said."
I sighed in annoyance. "He texted to tell me that my parents still have the hotel room booked, so I can stay in there tomorrow instead of here if I wanted to."
"And that couldn't wait until the morning?" she argued.
"Regina?"
"What?" she snapped, hating the nickname.
"Go the fuck to sleep."
Nineteen
This was a new, cruel way of torture.
I sat on the bed and watched the girls prepare for the meet, desperately wishing I was competing too. My heart ached to be one of them, fixing each other's hair, doing each other's makeup, and applying hairspray to our butt cheeks to keep the leotard from riding up.
I glanced away at the same time a ping sounded from my phone. I picked it up from the nightstand and swiped to read the text message.
Coach: Please make sure you wear your leo and sweats. You will be sitting with me.
I let out a dramatic sigh.
"What's wrong?" Reagan asked as she shuffled through her bag.
I looked up from my phone. "Kova wants me to dress up with you guys."
"Oh, another text from Kova?"
I glared at her, silently begging for her to say something else.
"Yeah, I figured he'd want you dressed right," she said.
"How so?"
Reagan looked up from her bag and gave me a blank stare. "Because you're on the team, Adrianna. It's common sense. I wasn't sure why you dressed in regular clothes, to be honest."
I ignored her condescending tone and got off the bed.
"I guess I didn't think I needed to dress. I've never gone to a meet and not competed, you know?"
Reagan continued to stare at me in silence until she finally resumed shuffling through her bag. Her movements turned frantic and a look of dread filled her face. Clothes tore out of her bag, gym gear landed on the floor, some hanging over the zipper. She muttered curses under her breath as she grabbed the clothes and shook them in the air. The sound of a rattle filled the space, then a little white bottle rolled out from her clothing.
Reagan dropped the clothes and eyed the container. I frowned and we both froze. There was no prescription sticker on the bottle. Her wide eyes zoomed in on it, and I knew in my heart that it was not something she wanted anyone to see.
I shot a fleeting look toward the bathroom where Holly was standing. Reagan caught my drift and she glanced over her shoulder. I lunged for the bottle.
"Give it back," she demanded through clenched teeth. She rounded the bed toward me.
A sense of dread washed over me. "Diet pills… These are diet pills, aren't they?" She snatched the bottle from my hand, her nails broke my skin. "Are you insane?"
"Mind your own damn business, right?" She threw my words back in my face, popped the top, and poured two pills into her palm. She threw them into her mouth and scowled at me as she swallowed them without water. I never understood how anyone did that.
"Does anyone else know?"
She stared at me. "Of course not, and no one else will know."
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Adrianna." My name was said with so much venom I shut my mouth. She leaned in close, and whispered, "Are you that naive? Did you forget what we're judged on? How our bodies need to look? We can't have an ounce of fat on us. We need to look graceful and elegant and be as light as a damn feather on our feet. Besides, it's just a little caffeine and weight loss supplement. Some performance enhancers. Nothing that's banned."
I shook my head in both disgust and sadness by her revelation. I didn't believe Reagan. If it was just caffeine it would state it on the bottle. This was dangerous. Gymnasts were plagued with the constant pressure to be picture-perfect. I knew firsthand how unnerving it could be, but I never once would have considered this.
"I know damn well what it's like, but the image others have of me will not define me. I'm stronger than that, and so are you. Reagan, you're putting your health at risk.
That shit could be bad for your heart."
She stepped even closer. Her eyes were leveled with mine as she spoke low. "I'm a better gymnast than you—we both know it—but I can't afford to train and compete for the Olympics like you. It's just not in the cards for me. My parents barely have enough money to keep me here as it is. What I do know is that I have a fighting chance to compete in college. So, I'm going to do everything I can to make that happen. I need a full ride, and only Division One schools offer that."
"But you're already good, you don't need them." I pointed to the bottle clutched in her hand. "Let me help you."
She laughed like my offer was stupid. "Help me? I don’t need—or want—your charity. I can do it on my own. As my mom used to say, 'No pressure, no diamond. The greater the pressure, the higher the reward.' I want to be that diamond, Adrianna, I want it more than anything."
She didn't move and neither did I. We were at a standstill. I watched the flames in her eyes when it hit me—we weren’t that much different.
In fact, we were identical.
Reagan was headstrong. She had a vision. A drive at a young age people couldn't comprehend. She would go to great lengths to reach her goal. I understood it because I was the same. As much as I wanted to tell our coaches, I would never. We all had our secrets, and I sure as shit had no room to talk. I didn't want to get Reagan into trouble, but I worried what the diet pills contained and how it could affect her body.
"What's a little hunger anyway?" She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Nothing we're not used to."
I shook my head. "I wish you'd stop. You're going to get caught eventually."
"You mean get caught, like you?"
I pulled back. "What are you talking about?"
Reagan lifted the corner of her mouth, her eyes thinned to slits. She smirked. "Like I don't see the way our coach looks at you." She snickered under her breath. "I see how his hands linger, how he insists on doing privates with you, the way he talks to you. He's always looking at you. He's hot. You'd have to be dead to not see how fine he is."
I shook my head. My heart raced so fast it rang in my ears. "Like I told you last night, it's all in your head, Regina. You're making shit up."
She hid her bottle away. "Tell me, why are you really here? A little rendezvous with the coach, perhaps?"
I gave her a deadly stare. "You're fucking sick."
She angled her face toward mine, and I could smell the peppermint mouthwash she had used earlier. She lowered her voice to an audible whisper. "You tell anyone about my diet pills, and I'll tell people you're sleeping with Kova."
My eyes widened. "Are you insane? I'm not sleeping with him." The denial burned the back of my throat. "Do you have any idea what kind of problems that would cause?"
"Then keep your mouth shut about me."
"Kova could go to jail based on your lie."
Her eyes narrowed. My stomach churned at the deceitful cards she dealt. There was no doubt in my mind she would use them to her advantage. She was the type to throw her mother under the bus to get what she wanted.
"Who said it's a lie?"
"It is a lie." I drew out each word. "You can't be serious."
"As a heart attack."
"You have no proof," I whispered. My heart raced a mile a minute.
"Oh, Aid, you have so much to learn." Reagan turned away and zipped her suitcase shut with a pleased smile on her face. "Not a lot of evidence is necessary when it comes to sexual allegations in this sport, you should know that by now. You have an extremely good-looking, fairly young male coach, and a pretty girl who he spends more time with than anyone else, and when no one's around, I might add. You're so stupid you can't see that he's using his power to get what he wants. He's had the same girlfriend since he was born."
"You're so far off track you can't even see straight. Nothing is happening. Do you see what you're doing? You're believing shit you made up in your head."
"I may have a wild imagination, but it’s all the authorities would need, that is, if you don't keep your mouth shut."
I lifted one brow and curled my lips. She forgot one important factor, one horrid side to this beautiful sport.
"And you seem to forget how an accusation such as this is cleaned up and swept under the rug faster than you can blink your eyes. Especially when it's a beloved, decorated coach. They always side with him and you know it. They protect the coach and the sport first, everything else comes second." It was heartbreakingly true, and I was disgusted with myself to use it to my advantage.
Reagan's jaw gnashed together. She knew I was right.
I hadn't elaborated one bit about how such claims were thrown out. It was one of those things that came with the sport that no one ever spoke about. It was rare a coach was actually arrested, let alone banned from coaching thereafter. Gymnastics officials did everything in their power to keep their image squeaky clean. There were many coaches and trainers accused of heinous crimes and still owned gyms and coached every day. But when there was a coach such as Kova, a legend in the gymnastics world, extremely important to the succession and achievement of the gymnast, it was all about protecting the integrity of the sport first. Touching, ass slapping, and lingering fingers were not out of the ordinary. It was common and never questioned because it came with positivity and attention and praise, something all gymnasts craved. No one gave it a second thought.
"Are you going to get up and get ready?" Her tone was always so patronizing when she spoke to me. My eyes reached hers in a daze, my forehead creased so hard I could feel indentations forming deep lines. I'd been lost in thought over the darker side of this sport. "We don’t have all day to wait." Reagan scowled. "The world doesn't revolve around you."
I began to wonder if I had fallen for the same kind of manipulation countless others have. The same kind of abuse they were secretly victims of yet had no idea.
No, I couldn't have. I knew right from wrong.
My skin didn't crawl in revulsion when Kova looked at me. I wasn't repulsed when he touched me in the gym, or when we'd been intimate together. He made my heart race with desire. When it came to Kova, I never felt forced to do anything against my will. Reagan was messing with my head.
Holly emerged from the bathroom and I whispered in Reagan's ear, "I'm pretty sure if you had blood work done, your punishment would be much more severe than mine and Kova's." I smirked. "Just sayin'. So don't try me. I can make up believable lies too."
The worst part of what I'd just said, was that it was one hundred and fifty percent true.
I sidestepped Reagan and quickly entered the bathroom and locked the door. I stripped out of my street clothes and stared at the reflection of my naked body. I was thin, too thin, but I loved the way I looked. My skin had a healthy glow, the work of a dedicated coach and gymnast. I placed my hand on my stomach, where Kova's had once been, and imagined his fingers slowly caressing me as I worked toward my breasts. I fingered my nipples, pinching and tugging on the raspberry buds, visualizing Kova doing it. A shiver of need ran up my spine and my eyes rolled shut. My other hand slid to the apex of my thighs and cupped my bare sex. Kova said he liked that I was smooth. There was no use of power then, just need and expression. I shifted my legs open a little and glided my fingers along the plump, swollen lips. It had been months since I felt release. I pictured Kova delicately stroking me with his expert fingers, increasing that euphoric pleasure, taking me higher and higher. I swallowed hard at the dampness that coated my fingers as a soft, quiet sigh escaped my parted lips.
There was no way I didn't want him on me, in me, caressing me. Kova didn't repulse me in the least. In fact, it was the complete opposite…and I almost wished it wasn't.
While my body wanted—and craved Kova's touch—I knew in my heart he wasn't like other coaches. An enigmatic essence with a touch of darkness and exceptionally gorgeous, Kova had a commanding aura that made me want to succumb to every word that rolled off his Russian lips. Another rush of wetness coated
my fingers at the thought of him, and I slid one inside, imagining it was him pushing into me.
I gravitated toward him, we gravitated toward each other.
I knew the difference between abuse and manipulation, and want and desire. Everything that happened was because I wanted it to, not because he forced me.
I refused to let Reagan’s words invade my head with shit that wasn't true.
I braced myself against the sink with my other hand and inserted another finger, visualizing it was Kova's hard cock thrusting into me with pure dominance. Pressure rose as I reached that desired peak. My knees buckled, and I fell into a small state of bliss, rubbing the little bud in circles as I came hard.
"Let's go, princess!" Reagan pounded on the door, and my eyes popped open. "I don't have all day!" she yelled.
I really hated her.
Twenty
Coaches always stayed on the same hotel floor as the gymnasts to make sure focus stayed strictly on the competition.
There was no playing around, no staying up late. No sneaking into friends’ rooms. No laughing. We were perfect little soldiers ready for war.
The team huddled around Kova and Madeline in the hallway near our room. I snuck a look at Kova, who stood across from me. He was busy writing something on the clipboard in his hands. As if he could sense me staring, his eyes shot up and connected with mine. My cheeks heated and I quickly glanced away in embarrassment. I was afraid he’d know what I’d just done in the bathroom.
"All right, ladies." Madeline was cheerful this morning, it was the start of meet season. She took a sip of her coffee, then flipped over one of the stapled papers she had in her arm and read out loud.
"Since you guys aren't competing until about six-ish this evening, we're going to warm up in the back in the warm-up gym. It's large and we'll share it with the other competitors. We just want you guys to run through the motions and get you familiar with everything. For now, we'll have a light breakfast"—she raised her eyes above her glasses without tipping her head up—"and then head over. Kova rented an SUV so we'll drive together. I suggest texting your parents now and letting them know what time the meet starts and what the plans are, then silencing your phones and putting them away. We don't want any distractions. If they have any questions, tell them to contact me or Kova."