Page 62 of It’s All in How You Fall
“You bet. The games weren’t televised until 1960 in the United States. And for gymnastics, the real highlights came in 1968 at Mexico City. Not that the sport wasn’t great before then, but the talent wasn’t as widely appreciated.”
“Plus there’s not much in the way of video from before then?”
“Yep. Larisa Latynina was the first big star. She won fourteen Olympic medals between 1956 and 1964. Then came Vera Caslavska and Cathy Rigby—”
“Peter Pan!”
I stare at him. “Um, yes, Cathy Rigby played Peter Pan.”
Alex settles into a self-satisfied smirk that he surely learned from my brother. “You know I knowHamilton—why are you surprised that I knowPeter Pan?”
My mouth is hanging open. “Because it wasn’t widely available on a streaming service?”
He laughs at my literal jaw drop before tapping my chin with a knuckle to correct it. “Gramps has an old VHS tape of it. Watched it probably ten times a month as a kid.” He shakes his head. “Boys are allowed to love musicals, Caroline, and I love them just as much as Gramps—and Dad too. Want me to regale you with the time I made a recording of ‘Agony’ fromInto the Woodsfor LJ when she broke up with the asswipe she dated before Topps? Perhaps you’ll appreciate it more than she did at the time.”
I blink. “I love that song.” I’ve seen the movie version more times than should be allowed. “Giants in the Sky” was Peregrine’s floor music the first year of optionals—and the Chris Pine/Billy What’s-His-Name version of “Agony” is my favorite part. I literally have no idea what to say because over the past two weeks Alex’s human-esque qualities have just trickled out, and now the dam’s busted and the mushy insides of Alex are threatening to take me away. Marble statue stuffed full of cinnamon rolls indeed. Alex Zavala is a truemusic theater nerdand I had no idea.
“It’s the best kind of stage sarcasm,” Alex is saying. “Even the movie version is great—”
The doorbell rings and cuts him off. He hops up to get it. I shoot to my feet and chase after him, because the order’s in my name.
“Caroline?” I hear the pizza guy ask as I zip around the corner.
Alex hands the guy a five, shuts the door, and blocks the hallway to keep me from squeaking through with my own tip.
“Hey. The pizza was mine to get.”
“And you did. If I promise to eat at least one more piece than you, will you refrain from chasing that guy down the street to trade my tip for yours?”
I steal the pizza from him. “Though I have improved my speed with those track workouts you prescribed, it would definitely be more efficient to toss my money at you.”
“Remember the cabana? Same rules apply here. Your money’s no good.”
Alex grabs a couple of plates and makes sure to very obviously pile four pieces onto his. I, meanwhile, start with two. I fiddle with the napkins as he heads over to the couch first, eating as he goes. Sure that his back is turned, I haul out my own five and stuff it underneath the pizza box to surprise him later.
My money is good here if I say it’s good here.
Perhaps I am a tiny bit like Nat.
28
I step back into the living room, and Alex has changed the BonIver/knockoff Bon Iver soundtrack to a very familiarOhh, I do, I do, I do. “Is that ‘Helpless’?”
He grins. “Yep.” He tips his phone in my direction. A curated “Broadway Songs” playlist scrolls across his screen. He brings a hand to his mouth as if he’s telling me a secret. “I run to this.”
My eyes grow wide. “You’re kidding.”
Dimples flash. “Dead serious—don’t tell anyone or I’m using the beans against you.”
I mouth, “Oh my God.”
And he laughs. “We’ve got eight songs until an ‘Agony’ dramatic belt-along. Enough time? Or do you want me to hit shuffle and shock the clock?”
“Straight through.” I swallow a bite of pizza and it’s even better than the other night—the cheese is melted perfection, and the crust is not too crisp and not too soft. “Does Nat know about the Broadway addiction?”
“He knows enough to completely avoid referencing it because he’s far too embarrassed by the cheese factor.”
For someone who goes out of his way to embarrass himself, Nat can also be completely finicky about the embarrassment he will weather for others. “Checks out.” I dust cornmeal off my fingers and pick up where I’d left off. “Okay, so I was going to show you Vera, but let’s start with Cathy.” I pull up a beam routine where she’s all blond pigtails and sass. “I think it’s safe to say she was the first darling of American gymnastics.” It’s easy to see why. The California-girl glow, the petite body, big smile, high energy, and the fact that she won—not at the Olympics, but at the world championships when she took home the United States’s first-ever international competition medal, a silver on beam.
