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I push myself up and yawn again. “What’s tomorrow again?”
She sits on my bed and, with a slight roll of her eyes, answers, “There’s no way you, the girl who galloped into KET on a broomstick horse, doesn’t know exactly what every polish week theme is.”
“Totally nailed it.” I grin.
“Slayed,” she agrees. “Tomorrow is ‘welcome to the jungle.’”
“Right.” I nod and can’t help but giggle.
She looks at me suspiciously, which is warranted. “What are you plann—”
“Never you mind.” I pull my knees to my chest and attempt to conjure some chill. “Tell me the rest.”
“Wednesday is ‘KET is the perfect fit.’ We’re all wearing jeans. Thursday is ‘Roundin’ up the best MC.’”
“Cowboy attire, and MC is member class.” I rub my hands together, excited for the fits I have planned.
She rolls her eyes slightly at my renewed excitement. “Friday is—”
“‘Keeping up with the KET’s.’” I clap my hands. “I’m going to Kendall Kardashian the hell out of Friday.”
“Khloé is the superior Kardashian.”
“Pfft,” I huff … and yawn again.
She slides off the bed. “We ride at nine.”
“We rode today. Tomorrow, we rock.”
Shaking her head, she smiles. “Goodnight, Riley.”
“Night, Ellie. Tell Leo I said hey.” I roll over and set my phone on my docking station. “And I’ll be listening to music, so I don’t have to hear you two have phone sexagaintoni—”
“Oh my God, shut up.” She makes to slam my door, but at the end, she closes it gently.
Lying back on the bed, I stare at the ceiling and smile, knowing tomorrow is going to be so much better than today.
* * *
Day Two
After stripping out of my leopard print pants, I look in the mirror, throw up devil horns, and stick out my tongue as I begin to play the air guitar. I look hot, especially with the top hat. I should have learned guitar instead of caving to the pressure to play the violin, which I had to beg my parents to quit when gymnastics became more than a full-time job that I happen to love.
“Your brother manages piano while playing baseball and getting straight A’s in college.”
My brother Owen is two years older than me and is the quintessential golden child. It bothered me when I was younger, but I now realize I’m more a platinum girl, anyway.
The next day, I got a B in one of the many AP classes and threw a fit, cried, did it up big just so they’d let me lighten the load. That night, I was allowed to pack away my violin as long as I promised to ask my teacher to allow me to do extra credit to make up for the B.
So, although I missed out on playing the actual guitar, I rock the air guitar. That is one thing I promise myself to learn … when school is over.
After a quick shower and setting my alarm to give me plenty of time to get ready for tomorrow’s festivities, I pull my journal from nightstand drawer to update Simone.
Dear Simone,
When last I wrote, I was excited about my sophomore year and all the new experiences it promised to bring. Things I wanted to share with you, as I have so many things since that day that everything changed.
That day, Coach told me I was “no Simone Biles.” As you know, that was a heart pain I so eloquently likened to falling spread eagle on a balance beam and suffering a battered princess part. But as with most physical injuries, after the initial shock and bruising wore off, I decided she was right. I was not and never would be Simone Biles. I’m Riley Park.
