Page 31 of Where We Belong
And yet I can’t stop myself from smiling the rest of the night.
Chapter 11
Lexie
I’mnervous.That’safirst.
The air smells faintly of sweat and chalk. Music is blaring from the floor area, where a girl who doesn’t look like she’s hit puberty yet is performing her routine with extra sass in all her movements. I lift my upper body from where it’s resting on the floor as I continue stretching. I was assigned to an area next to the balance beams, which gives a perfect view of the floor in this gym. She’s good. Really good.
I wasn’t expecting today’s event to be this big. With the start of the official elite competition season still a few months away, I’d thought the sports center would only be half full, but all the seats are filled and the roster packed. Apparently, I’m not the only one who wanted to assess the competition before our first real event in February.
Noise is coming from every corner, and with the wide space worsening the echo, it’s a cacophony in here. It always amazes me when I watch sports like golf and I see players who expect the crowd to be silent. It couldn’t be farther from us. If you can’t focus while loud music is playing and people are cheering for multiple athletes competing at the same time, then it’s too bad.
It never used to bother me before, but today, the mix of sounds overwhelms me. Breathing slowly, I get to my feet so I can stretch my shoulders and run through my routine one last time, gazing down at my leotard. It’s my favorite, made of carbon black material and decorated with onyx rhinestones. As I pull one of my arms behind my head, I touch my hair to make sure my short ponytail is still in place.
It’ll be fine.I’m ready for this. Or, as ready as can be. It’s been more than a year since my injury. If I can’t come back now, I never will.
To my left, a group of girls wearing the same team leotard is talking in a circle with their coach, as if finalizing their plan for the day. One of them seems familiar, and when I squint, I recognize Laura, a gymnast I used to train with a few years back in Phoenix. She was nice, always letting me room with her when I couldn’t afford rooms on my own during competitions.
When she glances my way, I wave, getting out of my splits to say hi, but before I can move in her direction, she waves back and returns her attention to her team. I freeze for a moment, then move into another stretch, as if this was the plan all along.
I don’t blame her for not wanting to catch up. I wasn’t the best teammate, always having to find excuses for not hanging out with the other girls. With work and everything going on at home, I couldn’t stay after practice, so it’s only natural that the five girls on my team became close, in a way only other people who share your hardships can, while I remained on the side.
I try not to focus on how I wish I could be the type of person old acquaintances are happy to see again or how envious I am of Laura for having a coach and a team by her side today.
Dragging my tongue over my teeth, I look away. I need to get used to being alone. It’s not like it’s going to change anytime soon. At least not until I make it onto Team USA.
Another incentive for the end goal.
I finish stretching, and when my turn is up, I walk to the warm-up mat, where I run through my routines and practice a few movements. I do two simple tumbling passes, feeling my pulse starting to thrum with adrenaline. Yes, the thousands of things happening during a competition can be distracting, but the energy is also palpable. It fills everyone. I feel it in my muscles, in my bones. The nerves don’t go away, but they’re accompanied by anticipation now. I’m here. I’m actually back. Something I wished for but thought would be impossible for months last year.
Everyone is called to move ahead to the next station, where I have to wait for someone else to perform on the floor before I can go. I watch as a girl who must be in her early twenties steps onto the floor, salutes the judges, and starts her routine.
I jump in place as I watch her performance, keeping my blood flowing. This feeling, right before going in? It’s like a drug. There’s so much possibility ahead. A chance to prove something to people. To feel like the best.
I could never have let that go even if I’d tried.
The girl performing is good. Not the best I’ve ever seen, but her tumbling is solid and she’s graceful through every movement. Her music is a cha-cha that gets everyone who’s watching clapping to the rhythm. Her routine has a good level of difficulty, but if I do mine perfectly, I think it will be worth more.
A routine lasts a minute and thirty seconds, but the clock ticks so incredibly slowly. I want both to be performing already and to delay it for as long as possible.
But then she’s done, and the stadium is music-free for a moment. As people applaud, my hands fly once again to my head, making sure every stray strand is tucked where it’s supposed to be.
“Alexandria Tuffin,” a presenter calls.
I inhale and exhale slowly. Then, I step onto the mat, a bright smile on my lips. They won’t see my nerves today. Not on the outside anyway. I salute to the table where two women and a man are sitting, then get into my starting pose.
I hear every smashing beat of my heart as I wait statue-like for the music to start.
One beat. Two.
Get it, Lexie.
And then the song I know like the back of my hand begins, and all my thoughts disappear.
Muscle memory takes over as I go through my first motions, then run into my first tumbling pass, which ends with a double arabian salto. It’s one I love doing, and by the cheers I hear when I land, I’d say I executed it well. I then have a sequence of dance and jumps, which I go through easily. My second tumbling pass comes next, which is my favorite one. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do it since it’s rough on my shoulder, but I wanted the points. Plus, if I want to prove the floor is still my best element, I have to do it. I push through the straight-backward salto with triple twist, and on the last rotation, I land a little sideways, which makes me take one step back before I regain my balance. Thankfully I’m still within the lines, so it’ll only count as a small deduction.
I’m already out of breath, but I still have one pass to go. I gulp air as much as I can while I do a ring jump, bringing my feet right up to my ponytail, then do another sequence of jumps, and finally, I run through my last tumbling pass. It’s a little rough around the edges, and I don’t gain as much height as I’d like, but I still land it nicely.
