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She chuckled. "Ah, because you have a lot more riding at the moment than I do? I'm just hoping I can gain the attention of a college coach. You want the freaking Olympic coaches to notice you."
"You haven’t heard back from Alabama yet?"
"No, but it's still early. I'm just stressed and wished I had applied to other schools as a backup now.
Holly placed her hand over mine and took it in hers. I looked at her and she frowned.
"It's the medicine," I whispered. "Sometimes it gives me the shakes and makes me jittery."
"Nerves are good. They're what keep us going, make us feel alive. If you didn't have nerves, then you kind of lose the fun of the sport. Am I right?"
My heart pumped the adrenaline through my veins at a high speed, like a build up to the climax of a movie. I could feel it coming and I couldn't wait to feel the beat drop only to replay it over and over again.
"Yeah, you're right. It's just, gymnastics is so unpredictable, you know? And there are so many incredible gymnasts here and we all pretty much want the same thing. We're all fighting for a chance to prove ourselves."
I sighed, my shoulders heavy with the weight of the world.
Before Holly could respond, the bell rang over the intercom. A signal to let us know the meet was about to start. I brushed the excess chalk from my hands and wiped it on my thighs.
Go time.
Looking for my coach one last time, our eyes locked for a brief moment. With his hands propped on his hips, I felt like he was giving me the courage I needed to be brave.
Putting one foot in front of the other, I walked up the stairs.
Fifty
"What is wrong?" Kova asked, squattin
g in front of me.
I was sitting on the floor stretching my foot out before I applied sports tape.
And I was annoyed as hell.
Gritting my teeth, I said, "First of all. I've had a headache since I woke up and it just won't go away. Second, there's a stupid Russian girl who's name I can't even pronounce just trailing my ass on every rotation. She's so close that if I blink she’ll pass me."
Kova grinned proudly and took my foot in his hands to carefully flex it. He held my heel and pressed on the center of my arch with his thumb. I leaned back on my hands.
"Damn those Russians and their skills," he said, and I raised a brow. "Taina Mstislav." His accent was so thick as he said her name, I couldn't even mimic it. "It means glorious defender."
"Not what I wanted to hear."
He shrugged. "Russians have always dominated the sport. They view it a little differently. Most girls are plucked from small towns with nothing on their back and the family is poor. They are given a roof and food and all the training they need, but they have to pay it back by winning. It does not matter which Russian girl wins, only that Russia must win. You do it for the love of your country."
My forehead bunched together. "What happens if they don't win?"
"Russia breaks girls." He was silent for a moment, then said almost painfully, "You do not want to know."
I glanced at Taina, who was right behind me in the standings. She didn't know I was watching her.
"Is that her coach?" I asked Kova.
He followed my gaze. "Yes." He said her name.
"You know her?"
"I know of her."
