“What do you think?” I said. “Obviously, Alannah called me.”
Valentina glanced between us, clearly unimpressed.
“Now’s not the time,” Dad said abruptly. “Alannah needs to prepare for her competition.”
“Exactly. And you two are doing a great job of helping her,” I fired back.
“You’renot helping,” Dad grumbled.
“Me?” I put a hand on Alannah’s shoulder. “You’re kidding, right? The two of you are fighting like one gymnasium isn’t big enough forboth of you. The entire hotel has heard your drama by now.” I turned to Alannah. “Come on, grab your bag.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Valentina demanded.
“I’mdriving Alannah to the competition,” I said. “I’ll help her get ready and have her there early. If the two of you can sort yourselves out long enough to show up, great. If not, your loss. But I hope we’ll see you both there, ready to get over yourselves andsupportAlannah.”
That stifled the argument momentarily. I took Alannah’s duffle from her, swung it onto my shoulder, and led her from the room before they could protest. If Valentina and Dad couldn’t see how much this was messing with Alannah, then they didn’t deserve to be there anyway.
Two hours later, I’d fed Alannah while she explained her routine to a very hungover Leigh and got her dressed for the competition before I delivered her to her coach. Now I sat in the stands with a black coffee, wedged between Dad and Valentina, their sullen moods stifling.
They’d arrived separately, refusing to even look at each other, and I sort of wished they’d chosen respective corners to sit in on the opposite side of the gymnasium. But they always sat together in the stands where Alannah could see them. It had been that way since she’d started competing.
Thankfully, neither of them were interested in talking much, so I focused on sizing up Alannah’s competition. With each floor routine, one thing became clear. None of these kids were anywhere close to Alannah’s skill level. She had it in the bag.
Alannah stepped onto the mat for her floor routine, and I jumped to my feet, whistling loudly. Dad and Valentina stood up, tense andexpectant. Valentina grabbed my forearm, squeezing it tightly as a pop-infused instrumental started.
Alannah flew across the mat, a whirl of tumbling prowess. I cheered as she landed the first pass, her arms shooting into the air as she beamed. Next, she danced her way to the other corner of the mat, and I clapped as loud as I could. Valentina’s grip on my arm intensified as Alannah lined up her next pass, taking a steadying breath. Then she broke into a sprint.
Faster.
Faster.
Her body coiled for the next set of tumbling moves.
I watched her twist and turn in the air, my jaw dropping as she stumbled out of the pass, falling off the edge of the mat.
“Oh my God!” Valentina gasped, cupping her hand over her mouth. “No!”
“She’s never fallen during this part,” Dad said.
“Shit,” I muttered. This was bad…but if she made a good recovery, it might be salvageable. I watched in horror as Alannah blinked, her head snapping in the direction of the judges, then sprang to her feet and raced off the mat, past her coach, past the team, disappearing into the locker room.
Double shit.
Valentina released me and rushed off in the direction of the judges, Dad trailing after her. I hurried after Alannah. I found her crouched in the back corner of the locker room, her head pressed to her knees.
“Hey,” I said softly, sliding down next to her. “Just me.”
She didn’t respond.
“You okay? You’re not hurt or anything?”
“M’fine,” she muttered without lifting her head.
“Right. Well, the good news is, that’s the worst-case scenario out of the way, so it can only get better from here.”
Alannah snapped her head up, scowling, unshed tears in her eyes. “How?” she demanded. “How is anything going to get better?”
“Come on.” I nudged her shoulder. “What does your coach always say when you fall? The sooner you get back up, the sooner?—”