Tumbling (16 page)

Monica didn't look happy. Instead, she looked a little angry, eating wide-eyed, bite after bite like it wasn't a big deal, like a perfect day in the gym isn't the same thing as eating the perfect amount and no more.

“I fell on vault,” Monica said finally, between bites.

Grace's dad shrugged. “That doesn't really matter. You were almost perfect outside of that.”

Monica went back to her food. Grace's stomach
churned. She didn't know if it was because she was hungry, or because eating that one bite of turkey after so many months of not eating any kind of meat had turned her stomach inside out.

Her father was still talking about how great Monica was. Monica, Monica, Monica.

Grace stared and stared at her food, taking bites of lettuce to her lips but only eating every third one.

Then another burst of laugher erupted from the table across the room. Grace turned to look, to see who Leigh was buddying it up with now. She knew that half of the girls at that table would love to be eating with their families. She knew that most of them hated the way gymnasts were kept separate from all spectators for the duration of a meet, even if it lasted several days. But Grace didn't care. She was jealous of them: both for getting to eat with each other and for having parents who gave them a break from the gym.

Leigh was staring daggers at Grace while laughing with Maria. How did she manage to do both things at once? Maybe she
was
a mean girl.

“I'm getting distracted,” Grace told her father. “Can I eat this upstairs?”

He nodded.

In the hallway, Grace almost bumped right into Wilhelmina, who was coming from the bathroom. “Hey,” the girl said.

“Hi,” Grace answered quietly.

She wondered how long she was obligated to stand and talk to her. It wasn't like the two of them were friendly. And Grace's hands twitched, wanting to be rid of the food between them, wanting to be alone with her phone and the Internet.

“Are you okay?” Wilhelmina asked, her eyes on Grace's salad.

Grace looked up quickly. That was a weird question. Especially from someone Grace hardly ever talked to. “I had a good day,” she said. She didn't need Wilhelmina's pity. She was beating her.

“I-I know,” Wilhelmina stammered. “You did. I just meant, um . . . where are you going?”

Grace shrugged. “Eating in my room,” she said. She hoped her voice didn't waver. She had to get out of here, get out of this, whatever this was. “Bye.”

Grace darted past Wilhelmina and didn't turn to see if she was being watched as she stepped into the elevator.

In her room, Grace ate five bites of lettuce and half a chunk of tofu while she played with the message on her screen, writing it and rewriting it until it was close to perfect. She could write back now. Her dad wasn't mad at her. Her dad was on her side. Leigh was against her. If her dad found the reply, she could say Leigh wrote it while Grace was sleeping. He'd believe it.

She swallowed the second half of her tofu chunk just as she hit “send.” Chills ran through her chest.

Thanks for the messages today. It means a lot to know someone is watching me. Especially someone as cute as you.

Then she ran to the bathroom and flushed the rest of her food down the toilet, making sure it was completely gone before Leigh came back to the room.

When she got back to her phone, she already had a reply.

WILHELMINA

Don't be there
, Wilhelmina pleaded as she walked down the hotel hallway after dinner. She was hoping Camille would be in Samantha's room watching TV or somewhere, anywhere else. She wanted a minute alone to call her mom and dad, to text Davion. To figure out her strategy for tomorrow.

She didn't want to hear about all the reasons fourth place might not be good enough. Wilhelmina couldn't let Camille get in her head again.

Don't be there.

But she was still two doors away when she heard Camille's voice floating into the hallway. “It's a stupid fan page, that's all,” she heard Camille say. “It doesn't matter who writes on it.”

Wilhelmina froze. Was Camille's boyfriend upset because some random Out of Touch boy messaged his
girlfriend? How did these people have time to worry about things like that?

“It's not a big deal. I don't even like Out of Touch that much,” Camille's voice whined.

Wilhelmina shook her head. It hadn't occurred to her to be concerned about Davion getting jealous over whoever might have written on her fan page. Davion didn't even have the official “boyfriend” title, and Wilhelmina was still pretty sure he wouldn't be jealous over some stupid one-sided online flirting. It was disappointing: Wilhelmina never knew Camille was so full of drama.

She couldn't face her. Not the whiny voice on the phone. Not the manipulating voice from earlier today. She marched to the end of the hallway. Ice would be good on her knees and ankles anyway.

The USAG had set up an ice bath in a room on Wilhelmina's floor. A volunteer sat in the hallway with a clipboard to sign the girls in and make sure they didn't stay long enough to get frostbite. After chatting with her briefly, Wilhelmina went into the room and breathed a sigh of relief to find it empty. She sunk her legs into the ice, leaned her butt against the metal rim of the tub, and took a deep breath, sucking in the solitude around her. Thank God she was alone.

She reached to her bag on the table behind her, pulled out her phone, and began scrolling through the texts Davion had sent today.

After vault:
You are such a badass.

After bars:
Your routine was the bomb. You're the best.

After floor:
I don't care what the judges say. You're winning. I'm sure I know more than the judges.

He was there, in the stadium, eleven hours away from their home. He'd driven all that way just to see her. Mina.

She tapped the phone against her upper lip, wondering what to write back.

• • •

Davion had been Wilhelmina's friend and neighbor since they were little kids. That was the only way she was able to meet him, since she had been homeschooled since seventh grade. Davion had been a playmate before the gym ate away all her free time. They'd spent hours playing basketball and hide-and-seek with Davion's brothers when she was eight and nine and ten. After that, even though they lived on the same street, it felt like Wilhelmina did not see Davion for years.

Until he appeared on her stoop.

Wilhelmina had swung open the door, frozen, and stared. He was wearing a red T-shirt that showed off the richness of his brown skin and the muscles in his arms and chest. His eyes were so bright they were almost gold. His smile was adorably crooked. He held a pile of misdelivered mail in the fist by his hip.

Wilhelmina had furiously patted at her short
hair, hoping it wasn't puffy, hoping her elbows weren't ashy and her forehead was pimple-free.

“Wilhelmina,” he'd said, almost whispering, almost reverently. And that's when she'd realized that he was staring back. His voice was deeper than when they were children.

It was only a second before his smile and eyes turned goofy. “You know, there's an ice-cream place up the road.”

Wilhelmina tilted her head. “I know,” she said. They'd both lived on the street her whole life.

“I haven't see you there in about eight years is all,” Davion said. “Just wanted to make sure you didn't catch amnesia and forget the best ice cream in town is only a quarter mile from your doorstep. I'm there after dinner almost every night, so I'm sure you haven't been recently.” He'd raised his eyebrows, handed over the mail, and left.

It was only after the doorstep had been empty for a full minute that Wilhelmina started laughing.

She was nervous. But she'd marched her butt to that ice-cream parlor after dinner that night and sipped on the Gatorade she'd bought despite all the delicious-looking ice cream. After a few minutes that felt like hours, Davion came through the door with his brothers and sister. The smile on his face told her she'd read his clues right.

“Well, look who it is,” he'd said. “Our street's
long-lost gymnast. I was beginning to think you were more of a legend than a person. You know, like the Loch Ness Monster.”

He'd asked her out then and there and, a few days later, they went to a movie. She let him buy her a ticket, but she had to turn down the snacks because she had practice the next day. He asked if she wanted to go to pizza after the movie, but she had to rest before getting up to train in the early morning. He was funny and cute and Wilhelmina's heart felt soft and warm around him, but she had the rest of her life for dates and cute boys and swooning over crooked smiles.

She had only a few months left to be a prospective Olympian.

Before they said good night he asked her out for the next weekend, but she had a meet to go to. He'd asked about the weekend after that, but she wasn't sure what her training schedule would be then.

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.