“I’ll miss you like crazy, kiddo. Kill it this week. I know you have it in you. Be the best you can be.”
I pull away and nod, trying to avoid his eyes. “Drive safe,” I whisper.
“I will. I love you, Amalia.”
“I love you more.”
He leaves and I sit cross-legged on my bed until I hear the front door shut and then I bolt into the bathroom with the window facing our front yard. He and my mom talk for a few minutes before hugging, and then he climbs into the driver’s seat, backs out of the driveway, and is gone. I grab my teddy bear, hug it tight, and finally cry.
“Amalia, anything special you want for lunch today?” I hear my mom bellow from downstairs after I’ve been wallowing for a full five minutes. She’s handling this way better than I am.
“Whatever you want,” I yell back, retreating to my room to check my phone. A message from Emerson sent last night reading “tell me everything,” I’m assuming about the Ruby drama, sits with no response. But there’s nothing from Ruby since our little spat, and she’s the only one I want to hear from in my current melodramatic mood.
I curl up and debate what I should say to her. We were perfectly cordial to one another at practice yesterday after “the incident” but “cordial” isn’t me and Ruby.
“Sorry,” I text, adding the emoji with the tears streaming. I hate emojis but everyone I know practically communicates solely via this wordless language. Gotta keep up. “I was being a [poop emoji].” Perfect.
I wait a minute, pick up the phone, put it back down, read five words in Crime & Punishment, look again, and my heart leaps at the three little dots that signal Ruby’s typing on her end. Seconds later, a message pops through.
“cant talk now, busy with my russki lover slash coach, gymnastics is way more fun OUTSIDE the gym”
She finishes with the winking face and heart eyes emojis, and then I see her typing again. The phone buzzes a nanosecond later.
“8===D”
A dick. I think I’m forgiven.
I do a few lunges to get out some nervous energy, and then stretch, Natasha’s orders. My massage is later this afternoon, at the place near the gym we frequent at some sort of MGMA discount. I suddenly get an idea, and call Ruby, who picks up instantly.
“I’m not kidding, Mal, Sergei is here and we’re putting on quite a show for my host family.”
“You’re an actual pervert.”
She laughs, a big belly laugh. “Did you really think he was over?”
“Not even for an instant, perv.”
“Cool. You’re an idiot for thinking anything’s going on. Seriously. I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life. It’s pathetic, really. You think I’d start going after dudes now, with two months before the Games? The only D I chase is my difficulty score.”
“Well, you’re an idiot for thinking I’m into Max, and honestly, yeah, that’s what I thought you were doing. I didn’t want you to miss out…again. Over a guy, of all things. I didn’t think you were dumb enough to do it, but…” I trail off.
“Yeah, whatever, it’s over. I’m sorry I got on your ass about Max. Let’s forget about all of this because it’s time for nationals, baby. We should party. That was a joke, in case you thought I’d also throw my career away for a can of beer.”
“Very funny. Actually, I was wondering if you want to get massages together today? Team bonding?”
“Yeah, I hadn’t scheduled yet, so that’s perf. Lemme give them a call. Did you call Emerson?”
“Not yet…but I was going to…”
“I’ll call her now. What time is your appointment?”
“Uh, four.”
“Great, consider it done. I’ll meet you there. You got a ride?”
“My mom said she can bring me.”
“Awesome, see ya.”
She hangs up before I can say bye. My nerves settle. That’s the best thing about having Ruby as a best friend – you can monumentally screw up, but she’s so fiercely loyal, she very easily forgives. If I were her and someone accused me of getting it on with a national team coach, I’d be rewriting my enemy list.
I roll onto my stomach to get back to Raskolnikov, whose problems seem so annoyingly stupid to me right now. “Just confess, moron,” I yell after five pages of his rambling. “Free your conscience.”
It feels freaking great to get things off your chest.
Monday, May 30, 2016
67 days left
“Emerson, room 612. Amalia and Ruby, room 614. Polina and I are in 616, Sergei’s in 618.” Natasha hands out our electronic keycards, which feature glossy photos of Emerson doing a switch ring at last year’s nationals on the front. She’s already Instagramming.
“What, no penthouse suite?” Ruby asks, only half kidding.
“I make so many sacrifices in the name of this team,” Emerson pouts, sarcastically. I hope. “First I sit in coach on a plane, and now I’m slumming it on the sixth floor? I don’t know how you survive. Also, this place doesn’t have a suite. Trust me, I looked.”
We’re at the host hotel, where rooms are set aside for national team members and their coaches. The Open was child’s play. Nationals are a huge deal with sponsors everywhere, and we represent them in everything from what we wear to the food we eat right down to where we sleep at night. I’m not on the national team – ahem, yet – but MGMA is a national team gym thanks to Ruby, so we get the national team treatment.
The trip to Boston was long and uneventful, though I did marathon five episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras on my iPad. So much for getting ahead on school work. Now I’m super sleepy and would love to go right to bed, but my legs need the treadmill…six hours on a plane and no gym for two days makes them feel atrophied.
“What’s the rest of the night like?” Ruby asks. “My bed is calling my name.”
“Meet in the gym for a mini-workout at 7, and then how about we do a team dinner at 8? Unless you wanna be lazy and get room service.”
“Team dinner sounds good,” I pipe up. I have an aversion to room service ever since I ordered it on a cruise when I was 13. My parents were out of the room, I felt like a badass ordering on my own, everything was going smoothly, and then the delivery guy reached across the door to close it and I thought he was leaning in for a hug. Naturally, I hugged him right back. Whenever I feel confident about anything, my brain loves reminding me that I can’t function as a human.
“All right, Amalia wants team dinner, and she’s the boss,” Sergei smiles. “Go freshen up or whatever you need to do.”
Ruby pushes into our room, which is nice but basic as far as hotel rooms go. We’re in a generic brand hotel, nothing fancy like our digs in San Diego. She claims the bed by the window by flopping onto it and curling up. “Freshen up, my balls,” she moans. “I’m napping.”
I laugh, fully knowing that five minutes before we leave, she’ll run to the bathroom and come out looking like a supermodel. She has this whole Beyoncé thing going on, making it scientifically impossible for her to ever look bad.
Me, I’m the opposite. I have hair that is flat and dumb and yet whenever I fly it gains some static power that makes it stand out in 800 different directions. Despite showering this morning, my face also feels gross and slimy. A pre-workout shower it is.
Before heading to the bathroom, I check my phone and yes, finally, a text from Jack. I texted him when we landed, letting him know I was safe and sound, but stupidly forgot to ask how his thing was going because I’m obviously too obsessed with myself to care. Stupid, stupid Mal.
“Cool, have fun in Boston. Your mom just called mine and asked if I want to come over to watch on Thursday…we’re gonna have a mini party. Can’t wait. Good luck!”
“How was your trip?” I type back. “When did you get home? Can’t wait to hear all about it.”
There. At least I don’t come across as a total jerk. I want to tell him I miss him, that being away for over a week is unbearable, that I want him to be the first perso
n I see when I fly home next week, but it’s much easier to think these words than to actually say them.
“Got back last night,” he responds. “Workshop was awesome. My brain multiplied itself by 80%. Head physically expanded. Had to check it on the flight home because it was too big for a carry-on.”
I laugh, toss my phone on my bed, see Ruby is already snoring, grab my things for the shower, and jump in. The water pressure is amazing. I let it beat down on my back and shoulders, soothing muscles that had stiffened from the long flight. I feel random excited nerves jolt through my body so I try to breathe and just be. My biggest goal this week is to not let the experience of being at nationals get to me, but I know it’s impossible to keep from freaking out entirely. The shower is the best place to let it happen.
I wake Ruby just before it’s time to go. She throws on a tank top and shorts, looks like a million bucks, and we make our way to the gym.
“Feeling good?” she asks.
“Yeah, actually.” I tug at the baggy t-shirt I decided to wear. I look the opposite of cute but whatever. “I feel great.”
“You’re gonna be awesome this week, Mal,” Ruby says as we wait for the elevator. “Ever since the Open, you’ve been this unstoppable force in practice. Really, super impressive.”
“Thanks, Rube.”
“For real, I know this is a huge week for you and you’re always a great competitor so I doubt it’ll bother you but I know the press and everyone makes this a big deal which can take away from your focus. So just don’t listen to anyone who makes it bigger than it is and you’ll be fine.”
“Why are you so worried about me losing focus all of the sudden?”
“I’m not, and I don’t think you will lose it. But I’ve been there. You can tell yourself ‘it’s just like practice’ a thousand times but then you get to the arena and you lose it. It’s not like the Open or any competition you’ve done before. No matter what you do or how you approach it, there are always those outside factors that come in and mess with your game. You’ve done a crap ton of work, so just remember that, and you’ll be fine.”
“I know I will,” I respond. “Thanks. But I promise I’m not letting anything psych me out. Actually, you getting all concerned about my mental well-being is what’s really psyching me out, so staaaaahp.”
“Sorry, Mal. I just know how nervous you get, even if you hide it well. I just wanted to make sure you’re prepared for how much of an insane event nationals can be. Especially in an Olympic year. Whatever you’re thinking, in reality it’s a lot crazier. It’s good to know that going in.”
The elevator comes and we step on to see Maddy and her coach. Maddy doesn’t look up from her phone.
“Earth to Maddy,” Ruby sings. Maddy looks up and basically glares at us, goes back to her phone, clicks it off, and finally says hi.
“Where are you guys going?” she asks.
“Gym. Then team dinner. No idea where.”
“Is Emerson going?”
“Why do you need to know the whereabouts of Emerson? Are you her keeper or just obsessed?”
Maddy scoffs. “I don’t. Actually, she’s been kind of a bitch to me ever since she moved gyms. But I saw her mom at the airport. Emerson wasn’t expecting her mom to make it to any of her meets this summer.”
She smiles and I want to slap her face. “That should be an awesome surprise! I can’t wait to tell Emerson. She’ll be so…thrilled.”
“If you even think about telling Emerson her mom’s here, I’ll…” Crap, I don’t have a way to end this and Maddy’s lingering grin is just frustrating me even further.
Ruby steps in. “She’ll tell everyone about the time at the Venice meet when you had a stomachache but were afraid to tell your coach and then had a very public and very explosive case of diarrhea.”
Maddy turns white. I try to stifle a laugh but can’t. “Is that true?!”
“Yep,” Ruby smiles. “Back when we were both juniors. You know, when I was Maddy’s obsession before Emerson came along. They had to pull her from the meet and gave some BS injury reason but nope, she crapped her pants.”
“Ladies, behave,” Maddy’s coach finally steps in as Ruby and I laugh. The doors open and we spot the rest of our group by the gym doors.
“What about Emerson’s mom?” Ruby whispers as we step into the lobby.
“I’ll tell you later,” I hiss back.
“Took you long enough,” Natasha shouts. “We’re going for tacos at this healthy gourmet Mexican place after the gym, by the way. Hey, Maddy, wanna join us?”
Ruby and I look at each other and burst out laughing again. I don’t think she’ll be saying anything to Emerson anytime soon.
***
“Okay, right now, biggest goals for this weekend, one big and one small,” Natasha says at dinner. “And go.”
“Win the all-around,” Ruby says. “That’s the small goal. Big goal is to make Emerson cry while doing it.”
The whole table, including Emerson, laughs. It’s been super weird watching their relationship go from mutual hatred to mutual respect. I don’t know if you can call them friends, really, but seeing Ruby defend Emerson against Maddy and then joke about her here, it’s like she has this new “I can make fun of her all I want but if you do it, I will mess you up” attitude, which is better than finding ways to torment her.
“Very funny,” Emerson responds, sipping water. “Because my small goal is to win the all-around and my big goal is to find something to keep me busy while doing it. Seeing as how easy it’ll be.”
“Mine was better,” Ruby smirks.
“Okay, enough from the lunatic brigade,” Natasha groans. “Let’s hear from Amalia.”
“Um, well, the big goal is to finish on the podium.” I blush a bit with the attention turned toward me. “And the small goal…I guess I just want to have fun while doing it.”
“Here, here!” Sergei cheers, raising his glass. “To having fun while kicking ass.” We all raise our glasses in response, clinking them together in the middle of the table.
“Now, and serious answers only…what are your biggest doubts coming into this week? Or obstacles? Might as well tackle ‘em now.”
As usual, Ruby goes first. “I don’t have any doubts. Or obstacles, really. I feel like this is my year. But I do have a chip on my shoulder, and that’s the press. So my obstacle is going to be kicking ass in front of them but not gloating too much or shoving it in their faces when the time comes.”
“Good one,” Sergei raises his glass again.
“My biggest obstacle will be, um…” I can tell Emerson doesn’t have a single obstacle in her mind but is trying really hard to come off sincere, which makes me smile. “I guess showing Vera and everyone that I can do even more than what everyone has seen already. That I’m not boring just because I’ve won it before.”
“Hashtag humblebrag,” Ruby laughs. Emerson rolls her eyes.
My turn. “Bars and floor are my concrete obstacles,” I begin. “I want to hit both and show that I can be trusted in a team final. My biggest mental obstacle is not letting the size and importance of this meet psych me out. I keep telling myself it won’t, and I thought I was fine, but then people tell me not to freak out and it’s making me freak out more. So not letting that get to me, I guess.”
“You’ll be fine, Mal,” Polina offers. “You know every trick in the book for keeping the pressure from getting to you. Just treat it…”
Finding Our Balance Page 19