Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 28

After two weeks of living with my coach and his teenage son, I still hadn't been able to bring myself to sleep anywhere in my new room but the closet. A couple nights ago, I did fall asleep on the living room couch watching TV.

            Today, my four teammates and I were on a plane headed to Houston for our first National Team training camp since early November, and none of us St. Louis Gymnastics Institute girls were exactly in the best condition at the moment. My right shoulder was really sore and Ally, our athletic trainer, was already planning to schedule an x-ray and possibly an MRI for me next week. Ellen was getting over the flu. Blair's shins had been killing her for the last week and she would probably be in the running for an MRI as well.

And Stevie hadn't competed at Nationals last summer because that was during her retirement, so she wasn't even ranked. She and Coach Bentley had to submit a video to the National Team staff proving she was at least at eighty percent of where she was prior to the last Olympic trials. The problem was—Stevie had to know this—twenty-five girls in this country were equal to Stevie's eighty percent, pre-retirement self. She was on this trip because of her past success. Most likely, this weekend would be her only chance at a second chance.

"You think Jordan will be okay on his own for three days?" I asked Bentley after the plane had taken off. He and I were seated in row ten, while the other three were all the way back in row twenty-nine. The four of us girls had huddled in the airport bathroom, drawing straws to see who had to sit by the coach. Honestly, I didn't think it was fair that I had to be in this contest, considering I lived with the guy now. But of course, I drew the short straw.

"Oh, he's not alone," Bentley said, thumbing through the airline magazine. "Mrs. Garrett is staying with him until Sunday night."

I had to snort back laughter. Poor Jordan. Mrs. Garrett was the seventy-five-year-old receptionist at the gym, and it wasn't like Jordan would be able to be mean or disobedient to an old woman.

"Actually, I'm glad you're up here with me," Bentley said after the first hour of the flight. "There's something we need to discuss before we get to camp."

I shut my book and stuffed it in the pouch of the seat in front of me. "Okay?"

"Word travels fast in gymnastics. You know that already, I'm sure?" I nodded, figuring he was talking about UCLA in June. "It's possible some of the National Team staff might be aware of the new skills you've been working on."

Wait, what?

I sat up straighter, turning toward him. "Really?" Excitement flooded through me. I'd love to be able to throw some of my new stuff and make an impression.

"I need you to promise me you won't confirm anything. You don't have to lie, just brush it off as nothing big or important, understood?"

That dampened my spirits. "So, I guess that means I won't be performing any new skills either?"

Coach Bentley gave me a sad smile. "I know I've made this hard for you, but what you have to realize, Karen, is that all of you have been branded by the National Team staff."

"What's my brand?" I asked, though I had a pretty good guess.

"The consistent one. Someone that could be put on the Pan American team or the World team to go first or second on an event, get the team started off on a positive note." He sighed and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "I'm not saying we can't change that, but if you do throw something new into the mix, it has to be perfect. You've got to keep your reputation as a clean gymnast, beautiful form—international judges are looking for that. This year is a whole new ball game for you and it's my job to set you up for the best position possible."

International judges? Not college judges.

"Does that mean I've earned back my layout Jaeger privileges?" I asked.

He nodded. "Starting Monday on a strictly probationary basis."

"What about June?" I asked tentatively. "What about UCLA?" What about the plan I swore to follow?

Coach Bentley sat quietly for a minute before saying, "How about we put that on the back burner for now? I really don't think you're done with elite gymnastics yet, Karen. Besides, June is long ways off."

I leaned back in my chair, releasing a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. A hundred-pound weight lifted off my shoulders. With that one sentence, Bentley had basically made it okay for me to keep pushing myself toward the top. Over the last month, my drive had tripled. I'd gained this hugely competitive edge I'd never had before in my entire life. I'd always focused on my routines and working to make them cleaner, but now I found myself watching my teammates, trying to constantly one-up them. And I wanted to one-up myself and my current routines by adding more. If the "Karen's life plan" conversation had taken place today with my parents, I would have fought harder to get my way and probably wouldn't have accepted my dad's compromise.

February 13

Coach Bentley,

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!! I won't let you down.

—Karen

P.S. You aren't planning on talking to Coach Cordes about our little secret plan, are you? Not sure he'd be on board with that.

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