Page 12 of Salto

“Only on certain landings,” I said carefully. I didn’t want her running to Caldwell and causing a stir. “Honestly, I’ve barely felt anything. I take ibuprofen if I need it.”

I didn’t mention the fatigue. I’d learned to work through that too.

“Okay,” she said. “Let me do a quick check. Tell me if anything is uncomfortable.”

She placed her hand gently on my lower back and applied light pressure. At first, there was nothing. Then her fingers pressed a little harder, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Is that tender?” she asked.

“A little,” I admitted, gritting my teeth.

“Does it feel like your normal tenderness, or is this new?”

“It’s familiar,” I said. “Just a little more sensitive than usual.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s keep an eye on that. Come grab me if it worsens over the next few weeks.”

I nodded.

“I’ll plan to see you again in three months unless something comes up sooner.”

“Sure thing,” I said, relieved the visit was almost over. Despite agreeing to come see her if I was in pain, I knew there was no way I would ever willingly come in here if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

“Take it easy, Scarlet,” Melissa added, giving me a knowing look as I slid off the table.

“I will,” I said, walking out the door and heading back toward the gym, already calculating how I’d make up for the event I’d missed.

That night, after I was done with my schoolwork, I spent the rest of the evening annotating the Code of Points—or, as I liked to call it, The Code. I focused on my floor passes, highlighting the areas where I struggled.

The Code was an entire manual filled with frame-by-frame images of every skill. Each page showed exactly how a gymnast's body should move from one position to the next. I studied my rotation in the acro elements and how I should land my salto. I continued until my eyes started to droop.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were also studying for the MCAT,” Jenny said as she passed by, catching sight of my assortment of colorful highlighters and pens, along with The Code spread across the ottoman.

I snorted. “I would most definitely fail if that were the case.”

Gymnastics was the only thing that really made sense to me.

“There's a ninety-five percent chance you're undecided.”

The guy from the beach had been pretty spot on in assuming I was a Communication major simply because I had no idea what I wanted to do after gymnastics.

“I think you could do it. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for,” Jenny said, pulling me from my wandering thoughts. She sat back down at the kitchen table to do more studying, no doubt.

“Not really,” I told her, biting on the end of a highlighter.

“You’re a straight-A student. What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I know how to study, that’s all.”

I was meticulous. It would drive me insane to get anything but an A. I was good with patterns. I knew what a certain teacher wanted and gave them exactly that. Did that mean I was learning anything? Not really. I memorized, and then the information evaporated once the test was over.

I studied so I could do gymnastics. So I could keep my scholarship. School was essential for my sport, so I did it.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Scar,” Jenny said with a small smile. “Also, you should rest. You look tired.”

I yawned. “Says the one with purple circles under her eyes.”

Jenny looked chronically exhausted from her constant studying. If anyone needed a break, it was her.