Page 51 of Salto

“He’s working today,” she said, and despite doing her best not to look disappointed, I could see the slightest tension in her brow.

“What?” I tried not to sound upset. But my dad worked long hours. When he didn’t even get a day off from work, it was really hard on him. I worried about him burning out.

“Don’t stress, Scar. He’ll be home in just a little bit. Now go sit down.” She shooed me out of the kitchen, and I reluctantly went over to sit by Jamie.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Jamie said, not even looking up from her phone.

So much for bonding during spring break.

“You excited to start back at school?” I asked her, hoping to start up some sort of conversation.

“Not really,” she admitted. She looked up for a moment, but then it was right back to her phone.

“Me either.”

“Did you decide to join that elite gym?”

My eyes widened.

“Jamie,” I said sharply, shooting her a glare.

“What?” Mom asked immediately.

Jamie smiled, as if enjoying the chaos she was orchestrating.

“Scarlet went to an elite tryout camp.”

I watched my mom drop the spoon she was holding, and the sound of it clattering onto the tile floor made me wince.

“Jamie, really?” I groaned.

“She did what?” My mom’s face went pale.

I put my head in my hands and resisted the urge to crawl under a rock.

But I was sort of saved by the bell or whatever because my dad chose that very moment to walk through the door.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, looking up, unable to keep the relief out of my tone. He was always good at diffusing high-tension situations.

My mom was still frozen where she stood in the kitchen. And after years of living with the three of us, he could sense something was up the moment he walked through the door.

“What happened?” he asked, his skeptical gaze flickering over the three of us.

“Scarlet went to an elite gym. A tryout camp,” my mom quickly explained.

“I was going to tell you guys—” I bit my lip.

“Perfect,” my mom said tightly. “So you can tell us about it now. Everyone at the table.”

I shot Jamie at least ten more glares throughout dinner.

She feigned innocence and simply shoveled more broccoli onto her plate.

“So tell us more about this camp,” my mom said, her tone clipped. I knew it was out of love. Truly, I did. She just didn’t want to see me get hurt. But still, I wished this didn’t have to suck so bad.

“So, there was an assistant coach from Vanta Elite who came to UCLA to scout Eva. And he ended up inviting a few gymnasts to come to a selection camp to see if we'd be a good fit for their elite team.”