Page 4 of All Your Fault

When Joe tells me what he heard, he watches as my skin turns an angry color red, which is almost impossible considering I’m dark complected. “Chaz used those words? I work for every homerun, catch, and steal. My dad made me sweep the concourse floors, take out trash from the concessions, and every other dirty job inside a ballpark. No one, especially my dad, thinks we’re baseball royalty. I’ve missed time with my family to train. Hell, I left my twin to be here. That asshole doesn’t know what sacrifice is.”

“You’re a twin?” he asks as both eyebrows reach his hairline.

I nod.

Then he says, “Chaz’s dad is a senator.”

“Aww, that explains it. He expects success without working for it.”

Grease a palm.

Return a favor.

Make a call and it’s done.

Evidently this off-campus coaching staff hasn’t gotten the memo. They don’t seem to care who either of us are.

Joe shrugs. He doesn’t want to make enemies with the team captain. But Chaz definitely thinks of me as his enemy. I’ll need to figure out how to turn my monster teammate into a friend.

"Does he have a thing for Erika?” I ask because it’s possible he thinks I moved in on his territory.

Joe shrugs. “He has a girlfriend, Ginger’s roommate, but word around campus is… he cheats on her.”

My lips twist, thinking about if I’ve said or done anything other than baseball that would make Chaz hate me. “Alright man, thanks for the lift. Catch you tomorrow.”

ChapterThree

Adalee

“You’ve got this, Addy Bug!”my teammates scream.

I’m attempting a new vault which is the most difficult skill for our team, and we’ll need every point if we’re going to eclipse Georgia this coming season. They’re the gold standard in the Southeastern Conference.

Holding my arm up, signaling that I’m ready, I inhale and drop my arm on the exhale. I’m ready. I’ve got this. I’ve trained in a foam pit. I’ve come to learn the most important part of gymnastics is sticking the landing. You can perform a perfect twisting layout in the air, but if you can’t land it, it doesn’t matter how beautiful it was or how high it floated.

With a furious run, my chalked feet pound against the floor. My arms pumping as I focus straight ahead.

Hit the sweet spot.

My round off onto the springboard lands dead center as I back-handspring onto the vaulting table. My shoulders shrug up toward my ears, and I soar into the air.

Don’t over arch. Twist. Twist.

I’m flying too high. Too much adrenaline. There’s nothing I can do now but pray, and there’s only a half second for that. Definitely not enough time. My heels jam, skidding into the pad as I cry out. My body keeps rolling, then I feel the coach’s hands on me. I grab my knee with angry tears spilling over my lids. “My ankle.”

The coach lays me down, and the trainer runs over. He gingerly pokes around my ankle. I sit up with the coach’s help, biting my lip. “What’s wrong?”

He asks me a few questions and then answers the original question. “High ankle sprain.”

I can see the pity in his eyes. I’m out for weeks. I need four months to perfect this vault. The Stallions offered me a scholarship based on my vault, floor, and beam skills. The uneven bars are my nemesis. My shoulders slump as my hopes for the rest of the summer shatter, knowing it will put me behind schedule. It’s a harsh reminder that an entire season can be defined by an injury.

My teammates clap while the trainer puts my arm over his shoulder and helps me off the mat. He carefully helps me onto a chair and begins to tape my ankle. The girls come over and pat my shoulder or give me a side-armed hug. In college, gymnasts are more of a team. And even though I don’t like depending on others to win, in this instance, I’m glad I’m here—with these girls and with this staff.

It’s a good thing my apartment is on the bottom floor; it’ll make getting in and out easier. Ginger, my roommate and best friend, helps me hobble to my room. Sitting on the bed, I place a pillow under my ankle and make the dreaded call to my dad.

“Adalee, I’m in a meeting.” His voice is brittle and perturbed as always. He’s a manager at a local bank, not a CEO.

“Dad, I got hurt today at practice. I was trying—”

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