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“I do.”
“And you are aware only five girls in the entire country will make the women’s team? That the alternates hardly ever get called up.”
“Of course.”
“And they are normally making the US Team around fifteen-sixteen years old?”
I knew where Kova was going with this, and truthfully, I didn’t want to hear it. I’d had enough kicks to the gut for the night.
“I’m well aware I’m older than normal to begin the elite path and that my chances are low because of my age, but I have the fight and drive to make it happen. I have passion and determination. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. If I don’t push for it, I’ll regret it. Everything I need is at my fingertips. I can do it...I know I can. I will practice until I can’t get it wrong, until my hands are bleeding and my feet are raw. I’ll go to the Olympics, and nothing is going to stop me. Especially not my age.”
Seemingly impressed, Kova nodded slowly, taking in my words. “Go home. I will see you tomorrow, Adrianna.”
The moment I stepped out of the shower and dressed in my pajamas, I called Avery to vent. The entire meeting with Coach Kova replayed in my head, making me sick to my stomach. Even though I should’ve been heading to bed for tomorrow’s early practice, I knew my best friend would still be up. I gave her a play-by-play of my day and the results of my shitty evaluation, feeling bad for myself the entire time.
“Go home, that’s basically what he told me,” I complained. “I’m shit, Avery. A joke. I can’t believe it. And here I thought I was good enough to be on a senior team. He clearly doesn’t want me testing for elite, doesn’t think I’m good enough, yet he has no choice to.”
“What do you mean he has no choice? So he gave you all that shit for nothing, but at the end of the day, he has to train you?”
“Yes. There are junior elite and senior elite gymnasts. It’s all based on age and you have to qualify by testing elite through national competitions with a minimum score. Since I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months, I need an elite coach who knows how to train higher level gymnasts and create routines that work with the elite scoring system. There’s a certain level of difficulty, artistry, and execution where by combining skills, it gives me a higher start value. I continued training the way I did back home because a lot of the senior and junior elite skills are similar, but I couldn’t advance, so technically I can’t be deemed elite just yet.”
“Just shut up and stop with the pity party. If he has no choice, which it sounds like he doesn’t, it’s obvious he’s saying that shit on purpose to motivate you. You know you don’t suck.”
“Motivate me? Telling your new athlete they aren’t up to your ridiculous standards and may never be is motivation to you? And seriously, Avery, if you’d seen these girls and what they’re capable of doing, you’d feel worthless too.”
“He’s purposely messing with your head and you’re allowing it to happen. Brush that shit off and go in tomorrow and act like he never said any of it. Hold your head high and show him what you’re made of. I bet fish lips tells all the new girls that.”
I giggled at her fish lips comment with her. “Why do you keep calling him fish lips?”
“Excuse me, Coach Kissable.” She chuckled. “He reminds me of Tom Hardy, and Tommy has fish lips.”
Oh, my God. “You know, when you put it that way it’s kind of hot. Now I won’t think of a blow fish every time you say fish lips, I’ll think of Tom.”
“See?” She laughed. “I told you.”
I sighed, bringing me back to the moment. “I really hope I can prove him wrong.”
“You can and you will. It’s just like when your mom talks down to you.”
I paused, thinking about what she just said. “You’re right, but I really don’t want to hate my coach. Not that I hate my mom, but you know what I mean.”
“How can you hate a face like that? He reminds me of a brooding, mysterious guy with a dark side to him. I bet his body is even better.”
I rolled my eyes,
smiling at her comment. I wondered where the hell she came up with this stuff. “I can say with all honesty that I haven’t even given his body a thought. I was too stressed about performing today to look.” I lied. Of course I had.
“Yeah, okay,” she responded sarcastically. “Whatever you say, but maybe you should take a Xanax before you go in tomorrow, you clearly need it.”
“No way. That’ll only make me tired and I can’t have that. I need to be on my A game, remember? Speaking of pills, I need to take some Motrin before I forget. I’m going to be sore as shit tomorrow.” I reached under the bathroom sink and grabbed the white bottle that housed my favorite little orange pills.
“I was only joking with you.”
“Ha.” I shook two orange pills into my hand and filled the glass I kept by my bathroom sink with water. Swallowing back the pills, I said, “Thanks, Avery, for talking to me. This wasn’t how I expected today to go at all. Not even close. I feel like a fool for thinking it would go any other way.”
“You mean, listening to you bitch? Anytime!” Her smile seeped into her words, making me grin in return. I wasn’t sure what I’d do without this girl.
Shaking my head, I said, “I’m gonna go. I have to be up at five thirty.”
