Bending Over Backwards (6 page)

“Mrs. Murphy, may I write the article about Molly?” Roseann asked. “We could meet for interviews. Just the two of us.” She squeezed my hand.

I squeezed it back.
This
is what I'd wanted. The two of us spending time together. I couldn't mess it up.

“Roseann, are you ready to write such a big feature?” Mrs. Murphy crinkled her forehead. “Maybe it would be best if I gave it to one of the eighth graders.”

“No! Please, it's my idea. I really want to do this. Plus, Molly is my friend. We'll work together. A lot.”

“I like your passion, Roseann.” Mrs. Murphy wrote her name and the assignment on a pad of yellow paper. “I don't usually assign a big feature article to a sixth grader, but Molly's yours. Let's see what you can do.”

“I won't let you down.” She raised my hand up with hers. “
We
won't let you down.”

I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to tell everyone that I wasn't training to go to the Olympics. I wanted to tell Roseann to write the article about that girl and her horse instead.

It was unreal that they all believed I was
that
good at gymnastics. How had this happened?

Mrs. Murphy ended the meeting, and I still hadn't said anything. I was usually so talkative. Now I couldn't force out the one sentence I needed to say.

“Want to come to my house tomorrow after school?” Roseann asked.

Hanging out one-on-one at her house was huge. After all that time together, I was sure we'd be best friends.
Once that happens,
I reasoned,
I'll tell her it was all a misunderstanding.

A joke, really.

We'll be such good friends, she'll think it's funny.

We'll laugh about it together. Our little inside joke.

It's fine if Roseann thinks I'm Gold Medal Girl for one more day,
I reasoned. I'd stop it tomorrow, before she wrote even the first word of the article.

“Yes,” I told her. “I would love to come by your house.”

“What happened today?” Eden's face loomed large on my computer screen, ready for the update.

I had five minutes before Mom raced home from work to drive me to the gym. I already wore my red leotard, and my gym bag waited by the garage door. I told Eden about joining the newspaper staff.

“That's what I'm talking about!” Eden exclaimed. “Now you and Roseann have a link. You need to work on a story together.”

“We kind of are. I'm going to her house tomorrow.”

Eden gave a flurry of little claps. “Hello! You're the best, Molly. You don't invite someone to your house if you don't really like them.”

“What about Maddy?” I countered. “You invited her over last spring.”

“That was a family thing. Her dad works with my dad. . . .” Eden launched into a long explanation.

I didn't care about Maddy. I was killing time so Eden didn't ask the big question. The topic of our article.

I debated how much to tell her. Eden was as invested in the Roseann Project as I was. She truly wanted me to be happy here and have a great friend. I just wasn't sure if she'd see the whole Olympic thing the way I did. She might see it as lying. Or as bragging. She hated when I boasted about the gymnastic moves I could do that she couldn't.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked to change the subject.

“Sari is having a sleepover party on Friday night.” Eden walked across her kitchen to open a cabinet. I knew she was reaching for a glass to pour her favorite iced tea–lemonade mixture. She did that every day after school. “We're going to make it into a spa party. I'm bringing this new aqua nail polish.” She wiggled her fingernails at the screen. “Amanda is mixing up the facial mask.”

“What's she using?” I tried to hide my hurt. Mixing masks had always been my thing. I was famous for my avocado-honey mask.

“Oatmeal and yogurt.”

“That's a good one.” My heart ached to be back there. I lined up colored pencils on my desk in my
new bedroom. Red, orange, yellow. The order of the rainbow.

Eden told me more about the spa-party plans, and I stared up at my fabric-covered bulletin board. When I'd moved, I'd stripped it of all the clutter. Now it only had two things pinned to it: the photo of me and Eden in matching bathing suits clowning for the camera and a round-trip airline ticket back to Arizona.

“A present for you and Alex,” Dad had said that last day, when he took me to the crafts market. He handed us each an envelope.

“Money?” Alex cried.

“Something money can't buy. Well, actually money bought this, but you know, open it. You'll see what I mean,” Dad rambled. He sure was having trouble speaking that day. I knew he was sad to see us go so far away.

“It's a ticket,” I said as I pulled out a stiff paper from the envelope.

“An airplane ticket. One for each of you,” Dad explained. “There's no date on it. You can come see me whenever you want, for as long as you want. You don't need to come together. You call me and say you're coming, and I'll be waiting for you.”

“
We'll
be waiting for you,” Carmen corrected him. I wished she'd stop trying so hard. She should know,
after all our hikes together, that I liked her.

“Exactly.” Dad's blue-gray eyes turned moist. “That's what's important. Family. That's what money can't buy.”

Alex and I both hugged Dad—and Carmen too.

Now I wondered if I shouldn't use the ticket. I could fly in for the weekend. Go to Sari's spa party. My avocado mask was far superior to any mask made from oatmeal. Avocado softened your skin a whole lot more.

“Daria went on vacation and closed the gym for a week.” Eden broke into my thoughts. “All I can do is practice handstands in my room. Boring! You must be working on exciting new stuff. Fill me in.”

I glanced at my bedside clock. Mom was late. “Uh, hey, listen, I've got to leave for the gym now. I'll try to text you when I get back, okay?”

“Sure thing.” She did our sign-off wave. I did it too.

My stomach began to hurt. Why had I said that? I'd never made an excuse to stop talking to Eden. But I'd never kept this much from her before, either. Not only Roseann and the whole Olympics thing . . . I hadn't told Eden how badly I was doing at Andre's gym! How I was in one of the lowest groups! How Andre had to reteach every move Daria had taught me!

I gazed at my ticket again. I couldn't use it now. It was too soon.

I had to go back victorious.

I could do it too. I just needed some time.

I'd been the star when I'd left. I wasn't going back as anything less.

“Yes, Molly!” Nastia called. “Now you're waking up!”

My palms left chalky prints on my thighs as I leaned over to catch my breath. My head spun from all the handstands I'd done on the uneven parallel bars. I'd never gotten dizzy before. Then again, I'd never done thirty in a row.

I was proud of myself. The energy I'd come into the gym with tonight continued to surge through me. I could change things here. Be a star.

“Over to Andre,” Nastia commanded. She directed her attention to the next girl, already turning kip circles.

“Okay!” I skipped across the floor.

“Don't do that.” Sofia's hand grabbed my shoulder. “You'll mess up Kelsey.”

I stopped, and we watched Kelsey fly through the air in a series of connecting flips and twists. “She's so focused, a charging bull wouldn't bother her,” I said.

“Andre wants us to walk as we do in meets. No
running or skipping.” Sofia showed me the straight-legged march. I felt like a tin soldier as I followed.

“Quiet your body,” Andre said for the fourth time, after I'd already spent an hour with him, trying to perfect the special arabesque. Everyone in my group had long ago moved on to tumbling.

“Move on up . . . move on up . . .” My legs ached to bounce in time with the beat the cheerleaders clapped out over the wall.

I couldn't let the chanting throw off my focus. I locked my knees. I straightened my legs and pointed my toes painfully.

“Tighten up. Stiffen up,” Andre barked.

As I held the unnatural position, a popular song blasted from the other side of the wall. Silently I mouthed the words. My hips longed to sway.

“A noodle! You are a noodle!” Andre flung his arms into the air, unable to hide his frustration. “I know you can do this, Moll-le. We are going to work all night until you get it. Then we will work tomorrow. Then the next day.”

My stomach twisted in knots. I felt horrible.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” My voice didn't sound like my own. Smaller and meeker.

“Fine. Be quick, and then we do it again!” Andre
shooed me off, and I hurried into the empty locker room.

I sat on a bench and pulled my knees into my chest. I didn't have to go to the bathroom. I closed my eyes and let the cheerleaders' chant soothe me. “Keep going . . . keep climbing . . . up, up, up! Keep going . . . keep climbing . . .”

When had gymnastics become so unfun? I wondered.

I thought of calling Mom to come get me. I chipped away at my pink nail polish, wondering if this was a good idea. Before she'd written that huge check to Andre, she'd asked if I was sure about such an intense program. I'd said I was one hundred percent sure. Could she get her money back, if I wasn't so sure anymore?

My body rocked in time with the cheers. I'd been sitting there for a while when I heard the door open.

“Molly? Hey, Molly, Andre's looking for you!” Sofia's raspy voice called into the locker room.

My stomach tightened. I wanted to hide.

“Molly?”

I bolted before I could think. Pulling open the door to the cheering side, I dashed inside. I blinked against the bright lights. Positive slogans painted in primary colors covered the white walls.
BE THE BEST YOU! LOUD AND
PROUD! SHOUT IT OUT!
Several groups of girls practiced in different areas.

I gazed around, stunned at all the activity. Cheers. Dances. Tumbling.

The locker-room door behind me squeaked open.

I dove behind a pile of mats. My heart thudded as Sofia poked her head in. Could she see me? I tightened my body into a ball.

Sofia looked to the left and right. She shrugged, then returned to the locker room. In a minute or two, she'd tell Andre I was missing. Then what?

Go back,
I told myself, but my legs wouldn't follow my brain. I stayed squatted beside the mats and watched the cheerleaders closest to me work on a pyramid. They tried several times to hold the formation. Each time the top girls tumbled onto the thick foam mats. They giggled as they sprawled together, and the coach encouraged them to try again.

Finally they built it all the way up. Girls balanced on shoulders and backs. Total concentration and total trust.

“Ready . . . and . . . ,” called a girl from the bottom.

I muffled a gasp as the smallest girl on top launched into a double front tuck. She landed safely in the arms of three girls below.

That's what Shrimp does,
I realized. I searched but didn't see her on this side of the gym.

The girls in the pyramid clapped and cheered as they formed a line. Then, at the exact same time, they flew into back handspring–back tucks. Every foot hit the mat at the same moment. Then two girls began a tumbling pass.

This is hard stuff,
I thought. I pitched forwards for a better view.

The tumbling flowed into a series of dance moves. Not the ballet-arabesque kind gymnasts do, but party moves. Shimmying, shaking, and twirling. I bobbed my head to the beat.

“Pretty fun, huh?” A tall woman in an orange warm-up jacket that said
CHEER COACH
gazed down at me.

Busted! In my red leotard, it was clear where I belonged.

“Taking a little break?” she asked. She didn't seem angry.

“Something like that,” I mumbled.

She hooked a piece of short blond hair around her ear. “You never know what's behind a door until you open it.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but she wasn't in any hurry to send me back. Side by side, we
watched silently as the cheerleaders ran through their routine two more times. At the end, they high-fived each other.

I glanced at the big clock on the wall. Mom would be waiting in the parking lot by now.

“I should go.” I headed towards the door.

“Don't be a stranger,” the woman called as I slipped unnoticed into the locker room, out through the gymnastics gym, and into Mom's car.

On the ride home, Mom sang to the new Taylor Swift song. I hadn't heard her sing since we moved. I joined in and tried to harmonize on the chorus. Mom covered for me when I messed up, especially on the high notes. She once won a singing competition in her teens.

“I'm getting the hang of this boss thing.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “People told me today that I'm good at what I do.”

“That's really great, Mom.” She'd already washed off her makeup and put on a gray sweatshirt. She looked so relaxed.

“Alex is making friends. He went to the library tonight for a study group. You found a new gym. It's all coming together.” She rolled down the windows and launched into a country song. She belted the chorus
loud enough for the driver in the car next to us to turn his head and stare at her while waiting for the red light. She held the high note extralong for him.

I couldn't mess up her good mood. I'd have to deal with the gymnastics thing myself.

“You don't mind walking, do you?” Roseann asked as we left the school together the next afternoon. “My mom drove Jane to buy sneakers. Chrissy has to stay late at the high school.”

“Not at all. I walk in the afternoons too, but I go the opposite direction.” I pointed down James Street. “Where's Kate?”

“Somewhere around. She walks with her friend Jordana.”

I matched my pace with Roseann's. We both wore dark jeans. I'd paired mine with my favorite rose-colored, lace-trimmed tank and a faded denim shirt. I'd put on the turquoise necklace I only wore on special occasions and lots of thin, bangle bracelets. They jangled as I ran my hand along the top of a squared-off hedge.

“Water alert!” Roseann called, and we both dodged the spray from a yard sprinkler.

“You'd get in trouble for that where I used to live,” I said.

“For what?” Roseann's blue eyes searched the quiet street.

“Watering your lawn in the middle of the day. In the desert, there's not a lot of water. You can't waste it on making your grass green,” I explained. “You can only water at night, when it's cooler. We never had grass in our yard. Just rocks and cactus.”

“I'm glad the law isn't the same here, or my family would be locked away for a long time.” She pointed to a large green yard that sloped back from the street. Behind a deep red maple tree sat a white clapboard house surrounded by marigolds and other autumn flowers. Two sprinklers were on in full force, wetting the stone pathway leading to the house.

“It's beautiful,” I said from the sidewalk.

“Can you believe my dad grew up here too?” Roseann stepped onto the pathway and let out an ear-piercing shriek. Clutching her book bag, she froze. Her lips trembled as she gazed down. Slithering by her navy loafers was a tiny green snake.

“Sn-sn-sna—” Roseann couldn't get the word out.

“Snake,” I said. I reached out with my white Converse and nudged the little guy back into the flowers.

“How can you do that?” Roseann stared at me with wonder. “You weren't scared?”

“Of a snake smaller than my foot?” I laughed. “Compared with the snakes back where I lived, that guy looks like an earthworm. You should see the big snakes we have.”

Roseann shuddered. “Never. I'm such a scaredy-cat.”

The Bleeker house smelled like a mixture of vanilla and jasmine. All the walls were covered in dainty flowered wallpaper. The overstuffed furniture was a mossy sage green. White curtains fluttered at the open windows.

“That's so cool.” A vase filled with dozens of red licorice straws sat in the middle of the white wooden kitchen table. Glass jars, the kind that hold cotton balls in bathrooms, were filled with pastel jelly beans and positioned around the house on side tables.

“We're big on candy . . . and salad.” Roseann poked her head into the fridge. One shelf was packed with nail polish. “Mom thinks it stays fresher in here,” she explained when she saw my questioning look. “Do you like Shirley Temples? Mom mixes them up every afternoon.”

Roseann poured us each a glass of bubbly pink
soda and tossed in two maraschino cherries. She peeled back the foil on a mixing bowl in the fridge to reveal chocolate-chip cookie dough. “We could bake cookies.”

“We could eat it with spoons,” I suggested.

“Even better!” Roseann grabbed two spoons, and we sat at the table. She opened a pink notebook. “Ready to do the interview?”

“We should eat first. I need energy,” I said.

We dug our spoons into the raw cookie dough.

“Whoa!” A taller Roseann look-alike with fairer skin swept into the kitchen. “That's mine. I'm making cookies for a bake sale.”

“Sorry, Lauren. It's yummy,” Roseann apologized to her sister.

“One more spoonful, you goon, and that's all.” Lauren grinned.

Roseann and I each took a tiny spoonful, then Lauren pulled the bowl away. Her hair fanned out the same way Roseann's did.

Lauren invited us to help her bake. She pulled out three cute miniscoopers that made the cookies perfectly round.

“I can out-circle you,” Lauren challenged.

“Game on!” Roseann cried. “Ready, set, scoop!”

We each tried to make the most circular cookie. I was disqualified because I kept poking my fingers into the dough. Roseann won.

“Your sister's so nice. My brother would've gone nuts if I'd eaten his cookie dough.” I told Roseann about the time when Alex discovered that I'd cut his comic books into strips to weave a basket. For revenge, he'd given all my Barbies buzz cuts.

After the cookies had cooled and Lauren left, Roseann tried to get back to the interview. “When did you first start gymnastics?”

I told her all about Daria and her gym. I told her about Eden. I gave a lot of descriptions about learning moves when I was young. I started to relax.
If I can keep the article about this beginning stuff,
I thought,
everything will be all right.
Maybe I won't have to fess up at all.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Kate wandered in and grabbed two licorice straws. She tossed one to me. “Good catch, gymnastics girl.”

“Thanks. It's Molly.” I'd noticed how Roseann and all her sisters had the same way of holding your gaze when they talked.

“I love your necklace,” Kate said. “I have dangly earrings that would match. You should try them later.”

“For sure!” One sister was nicer than the next.
Forget being friends, I was ready to move in. A little dark brown hair dye, and I could be the sixth Bleeker sister.

“Are you asking her the hard questions?” Kate peered at Roseann's notes.

“I'm doing background information first,” Roseann explained.

“You need to dig deep for a good article.” Kate gave her a few pointers as I waited in dread. If I didn't tell soon, Roseann might piece it together herself. What would she do when she found out? Would she make me leave?

“Let's have the article show what it's like to be a top gymnast training for the big time,” Roseann said when Kate went upstairs.

“Ew, look, a snake!” I widened my eyes.

Roseann dropped her pen and jumped up. “Where?”

“Gotcha!” I cried.

“Be serious, Molly. I need to do this interview.” Roseann picked up her pen. “What does it feel like to do the hardest moves?”

I tried to describe soaring through the air when I do an aerial or back tuck. “For a few seconds, I'm weightless. I'm flying! I get a thrill when I twist in the air and land solidly. I feel fearless.”

Roseann scribbled notes as I spoke. I answered questions about our practice routine at the gym. I talked more about Kelsey Wyant and how she trained than I did about myself.

“So you and this girl Kelsey train together?”

“No, not exactly.” I hesitated.

“Right, I get it. You're at the same gym, but you're against each other too. Rivals.”

“Not rivals. We're not on the same level.”

Roseann knocked her head with her pen. “That was silly. You don't have to be modest. I know you're on a higher level. You told me you're at the top.”

My mouth felt dry and swallowing suddenly became painful. “Have you ever said something and then wished you hadn't?”

Roseann crossed something off her notes. “Wait. I messed up or I can't read what I wrote. Do you have one coach or two?”

“Two. Andre and Nastia.” I tried again. “It's funny how, sometimes, you can be making a joke and no one gets it, you know?”

“What do you mean? Do your coaches have trouble understanding English? Are they from another country?”

“Kind of. I don't know. That wasn't what I was—”

“Can I meet them?” Roseann asked. “Can I come to the gym and get a quote from them for the article? That way it's someone official telling us how amazing you are.”

“Andre's not going to say what you think he'll say.” I sighed. Time to come clean. “Here's the thing—”

“Do you know what time it is, Roseann?” Another sister with the same silky hair and dark blue eyes as the others walked into the kitchen. By process of elimination, I figured she was Chrissy, the oldest. She wore the cutest short plaid miniskirt, a navy tank top, and sneakers.

“A few more minutes, Chrissy. I was just getting to the good questions. Molly's the new girl I told you about.”

“Roseann, there's something funny I need to tell you,” I said urgently. “I mean, it's so ridiculous. You'll totally laugh.”

“Practice starts in ten minutes in the park. I have to be on time, or they'll fire me as assistant coach.” Chrissy grabbed an apple from the refrigerator. Her eyes were highlighted by jet-black mascara that exaggerated the curl of her lashes. “I'm leaving now. You too, Roseann.”

“I'm sorry,” Roseann said to me as she stood. “I have to go to practice. Can I ask you more questions later?”

“Sure, but . . .” Why couldn't I spit it out?

“Are you coming too?” Chrissy asked me.

“She doesn't play field hockey.” Roseann waved away the offer. “She's a gold-medal gymnastics star. Isn't that cool?”

I cringed. It wasn't cool, because it wasn't true. Besides, I didn't want to be only that to Roseann. I wanted to be her friend.

“Yes. I'll come,” I announced.

“You will?” Roseann tilted her head.

“If it's okay. I don't know how to play, but I'd like to learn.”

“I can teach anyone,” Chrissy bragged. “I'm captain of the high school team. We're going all the way to state this year.”

“What about gymnastics? Don't you have practice every night?” Roseann asked.

Sitting in Roseann's beautiful house that smelled of freshbaked cookies and flowers and surrounded by her super-nice sisters, one of whom wanted to teach me the sport Roseann and her friends were crazy about, I realized that the last place I wanted to be was the cold and serious gym, where I'd only hear that I looked like a wet noodle again and again.

“No problem. My coach is going to . . . to a meeting
tonight. He said practice was optional.” I couldn't believe how easily I'd added another untrue story to the first. “Can I come along?”

“Great! The more the merrier!” Chrissy pumped her fist.

Exactly,
I thought. Field hockey was a team sport. If a whole bunch of us moved a ball down a field together, we'd bond and have fun. Gymnastics was an individual sport. I wasn't making friends working on a beam routine by myself.

“Roseann can lend you shorts and a stick,” Chrissy said. “Practice runs until six at Dunham Park. If you like it, maybe we can squeeze you onto the team or give you a proper tryout.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Alex while Roseann ran to her room.

I held my breath. He had grumbled this morning when Mom told him to drive me to the gym so she could go to a work dinner with the paper-towel client. Would he ask why I wasn't going?

I grinned. So unlike Alex. I wondered what was going on with him.

Roseann returned with an extra pair of mesh shorts and a heavy wooden stick that curved at the end. “This is my old one, but you're shorter than I am. Are you ready?”

“Ready!” I followed Roseann and her sister to the car. Off to practice. Together.

Join in. Share the same interests. Eden would totally agree with my choice to ditch gymnastics for field hockey.

I looked down at the stick.
It can't be too hard to whack a ball with this thing,
I thought. My heart soared. I had a feeling that I'd be good at it.