Page 93 of Where We Belong

My heart does ten handsprings, which is definitely not a good sign for me, but how can I fault it?

Me: Don’t let me stop you, then.

Finn: Wasn’t planning on it, darling. xx

I smile like a giddy teenager as I walk into the gym, the dark room faintly illuminated by the lilac sky outside. There are no classes or practices on Friday nights, which means I can start my own training earlier than I do the rest of the week. My next competition’s in North Carolina in two weeks, and I want to try a new vault. If I can up my game on that event and make sure I execute it well, then that’d be an almost guaranteed gold.

After connecting my phone to the speakers and putting on Rihanna’sAntialbum, I get into my stretches and think about tonight’s practice plan. I might start with a few reps of the vaults I currently have mastered before getting to the new one. It’ll be the first time I try something I’ve never done before without a coach there to guide me through it, but at this point, there’s no way to avoid it. Plus, I feel better than I have in months. So much better than when I experienced Andy’s growing disappointment every passing day, feeling like a weight was dragging me down while I kept trying to fly.

I shift into my shoulder stretches on the floor when my phone vibrates on the ground next to me, Josie’s name on the screen.

Jos: Hey! You’re still planning on coming home for my birthday, right?

“Fuck,” I mutter as I close my eyes. I’d completely forgotten about this. When I first arrived home at Christmas, she asked me if that was the only time I’d be coming for the year, and I told her I’d try to fly back for her birthday, which is in a month. It never crossed my mind again.

My phone buzzes again.

Jos: Kyle’s been stealing money left and right this week, so things at home have been pretty shitty.

And here it is. The other shoe I expected to drop.

I stare at the phone for a minute, not knowing what to write. I know what she needs me to say. I also know that I can’t say it.

I go deeper into my stretch, relishing the pain. I have the money to book flights now, so that’s not a problem. The actual problem is the fact that I’d rather stab a pen in my eye than feel again the way I did when I was there. I barely survived the Christmas trip. Finn being there was probably the only thing that saved me. Just imagining being frightened by my brother and feeling my mother’s resentment again is too much. I don’t know that I can do it.

But if I say no and leave Josie to that nightmare without any support, that makes me the biggest coward on earth. I’m surprised she even asked—she rarely calls or texts, I think out of fear of worrying me—so why did she today? What if something more than the thefts happened to her?

“Fuck!” I repeat as I hit the bouncing floor with all my strength. Once again, I’m faced with the fact that I can’t protect myselfandbe there for my sister, and that rips my heart to shreds. I could never explain how it feels to be in that house that brings so many memories, some of which my own mind hid from me. How the sheets in my old bedroom remind me of unwanted touches, and the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling make me think of feeling pressure on my wrists and being trapped. The house itself was bad enough, but add to that my brother who’s a real asshole, and the last thing I want to do is go back there, and sans Finn this time.

I look back at the phone, then figure I’ll answer tomorrow, when I’ve had the night to think it through. Maybe a genius idea will come to me in the meantime.

I finish my stretches and warm-up, then head to the vault table, where I practice some hand placements and try to visualize the rotations I’ll have to do. Usually, I’d have someone spot me and even hold me on the table so I could get a feel of the position before throwing the new skill, but I’ll have to do without. I was never good with that anyway, considering having Andy’s hands on me always threw me off.

I shake my shoulders, then wiggle my arms. Something’s gotten into me tonight, and I don’t like it. I need my mindset clear. “Kiss It Better” is blaring through the gym as I walk to the end of the red aisle, rolling my shoulders front and back.

Get out of your head, Lexie.

I’ll start with something simple to get me in action. A straight Yurchenko with a single twist. It’s been a while since I’ve done it, but I mastered it at eleven years old, so I should be able to throw it with my eyes closed.

Staring at the table eighty feet away from me, I breathe in as I climb on my tiptoes, and on the exhale, I start running.

Lift. Roundoff. Push. Blocked shoulders. Twist.

The words circle around my head with each step I take, and yet something’s different. They seem to be fighting for space that’s already occupied, images of my sister and my mother blending with the movements, creating a tornado that wrecks everything in its path.

The jumping board comes faster than I anticipated, even though I think I’ve taken the same number of steps I always do. I try to regain my momentum, going through the motions I’d visualized before, but again, something is off. I have an inkling of it when my hands come in contact with the table after my roundoff, and it’s clear as a day when I get into the rotation.

I’m all off.

The gym around me becomes a blur as I twist more than I’m supposed to—or maybe less than. At this point, everything becomes white, and I don’t know up from down and left from right. My body takes over until I meet the ground.

And then, pain.

A scream tears through my lips as my head hits the thin mat, but that’s the last thing to make contact with the floor. My foot did first.

Fire lances from my toes all the way to my right thigh. I scream again, this time a mix of agony and of despair.

No. No, no, no.

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