Page 60 of Hidden

She looks at me for a moment with the expression of someone who knows exactly what's happening and is making a decision about how hard to push it.

She doesn't push it.

"Okay, but if something was wrong you would tell me."

“Promise.” I smile, and then see the other two come out, and we make our way to practice.

***

Coach Pearce runs the beam session like it's already competition day, and I’m fucking failing.

No warmup grace, no easing in. She wants the full routine from the top, and she means it. She’s standing at the end of the beam with her arms crossed and her eyes tracking every tenth of a degree of every movement. Which I know I’ve messed up more than once. My head isn’t in the game, but she makes me do it again. And again.

I take a deep breath. I mount clean at least I did that right.

The first pass, split leap into back walkover landing the way it should, my weight distributed correctly, and my arms exactly where they need to be. I feel it the way you feel a good landing, the rightness of a body doing what it's trained to do.

Then I hit the turn sequence.

My mind goes somewhere it shouldn't. One fraction of a second, Dan's voice, back to the beginning, three years of savings and doubles on weekends, and that's all it takes. The turn overcooks by half a beat. My weight shifts wrong. I feel the correction coming too late. I reach for it, then I miss it.

The floor comes up fast.

I land on my feet, from training, and pure muscle memory, but off the beam is off the beam and the gym goes quiet. They all know I’m the best on the beam and floor, so for me to make a mistake and fall is a big thing.

"Elliot."

Coach Pearce's voice is not loud. It’s worse than loud, it’s contained, and it’s the sound of someone who has something to say and is choosing exactly how much of it to release.

I look at her.

"What was that?"

"A mistake," I say. "It won't happen again."

"That turn has been clean for three weeks." She walks the length of the beam, stops at the end, and looks at me with the assessment of someone running calculations. "Whatever is in your head right now, leave it at the door. You've got twelve days."

"I know."

"Do you? Because that turn tells me you don't know right now. Mount again."

I mount again, and I try to block everything out of my head. The anger, the disappointment, my brother, but it’s not working because I feel the water building in my eyes from the anger building inside me.

He will not fuck this up for me, but when my feet hit the floor again, I know my brother is going to be my downfall, but I can’t kick him out of my life. He's the only family I have left.

I look over at coach, who says nothing and just walks away.

Fuck! I shout to myself. I walk over to my gym bag and see I have a message. I quickly look at it so coach doesn’t catch me.

Ghost.

Focus on your dream. Everything else can wait.

I stare at it and then lock the phone. I put it back in my bag, then look around to see if I can see anyone new in the room. No, there’s no one new here. I wish even if for a second, I could be around him, just so he can say everything will be okay.

I mount the beam again without being asked and do my routine again.

Fourteen