Page 21 of Burnout
Mary loves that answer, I can tell by the way her own smile brightens. Behind her is a wall of framed photos and awards she’s won. She was part of two gold medal teams and placed in who knows how many national competitions. I wonder if she looks back on her career and has regrets. I’d like to ask her, but she dives right into the next question.
“Talk me through what it was like to come off the amazing experience at the Olympics and then move to competing collegiately at Valley University. What has that been like?”
“Really good. I like the coaches and program here at Valley, and I feel like it was the right next step for me.”
“But you struggled through last season even when most people would say the competition and skills required to succeed are lower than at the elite level. Why do you think you struggled so much?”
My stomach clenches and I can practically feel the sweat beading up on my forehead, but I manage to keep smiling even as I want to tell Mary to shove her annoying questions up her ass. “I think there are always going to be highs and lows. I changed a lot last year. New coaches, new routines, new city—my whole life was different, and it’s taken a little adjustment period to get comfortable.”
I sigh inwardly, relieved that I was able to get out an answer that sounded coherent and not bite her head off. A lot did change last year. In addition to everything I told her, there is a lot morepressure on me than ever before. The world is watching in a way they weren’t when no one knew who I was. I’m nervous that I won’t live up to their expectations. Or my own.
“And what about this year? Is your knee going to be healed in time to compete?” she asks.
That’s the million-dollar question. “My doctors feel confident, but I’m just taking it one day at a time.”
“Well, whenever you do come back, we’ll all be watching to see just what Avery Oliver can do.”
SEVEN
I tossmy helmet to the ground, clench my jaw, and let out a low growl of frustration. The weight of Flynn’s stare keeps me from completely losing my shit.
A week of practice and my improvements are minimal. At this rate I’ll be ready to perform never. I so badly want to give up, but my pride won’t let me.
I flop down next to my little brother, and we watch Colter and his team as they start their practice. They have another event next weekend and they’re adding in a group backflip. It’s a simple trick for all of them but getting the timing down so their spacing and flight are identical is harder.
Flynn had a rare day off from basketball practice, so I picked him up and brought him back to the track with me. Hendrick and Jane have been helping a lot with driving him and doing shit around the house so I can practice longer, but I’ve missed hanging out with him one-on-one.
“This is so rad,” he says, grinning as they come around for the second time.
One side of my mouth lifts. “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”
The usual crew is here: Colter, Brooklyn, Oak, and another local guy, Shane, that they all refer to as “Momma Bear” but only when he isn’t listening because Shane is big and burly and could beat up all of them at the same time. And then four others from all over the West Coast drove in so they could run through one last practice together before next weekend.
Last weekend’s event was the smallest crowd they’re expecting and more like a run-through in front of a crowd. Over the next few months, they’ll go from Oregon to Texas, performing in large venues to sold-out crowds. Or I guess we’ll go, since I somehow got myself roped into this.
“Do you think you can teach me how to do some tricks?” Flynn turns his head to glance at me quickly before returning his attention to the track.
My brows lift. “Fuck no.”
“Why not?”
“You want to play college ball next year?”
His head bobs.
“Then let’s keep you in one piece until you’ve signed somewhere.”
He doesn’t look at me or answer, but I catch an eye roll.
“Are you going to perform with them next weekend?” he asks instead.
“Doubtful. I can’t land anything impressive yet. I might not ever be ready, but since I have some time on my hands it’s a good way to kill time.”
Flynn tears his gaze away from the riders. “Hendrick told me what you’re trying to do—show your old coach that you can be part of a team without punching anyone.”
I feel my brows lift. “I didn’t punch anyone. I shoved him a little.”
“Looked like you wanted to punch him though.”
