Balance (Off Balance 1)

I wanted to impress my coach and show him I was worthy of being here, but with him riding my back over a stupid leap, along with my gnawing hunger, I was stressing out big time.

“While I am young, Adrianna.” He clapped twice. We were back to Adrianna. “Get moving. Ten more.”

I gulped, then completed the leap eleven more times instead of ten. My legs were rubbery and I began to feel nauseous. I was training on an empty stomach with a barking coach in my ear.

On one of the jumps, I came down with shaky legs. My arms and legs went out to the sides just a little to balance myself. I tried to make it flow into a pose to cover it up, but any coach with a sharp eye would spot it immediately.

I wasn’t sure why I even tried to hide it from Kova.

“Lock your leg, Adrianna,” he gritted, his eyes were drilling holes into my head.

Coach dropped his head. Running a hand through his hair, he pulled at his scalp. Snapping his head up, he turned to the bars and yelled, “Reagan! Over here! Now!”

Great. My biggest fan was coming over to show me up.

“Yes, Coach,” she said with a syrupy voice. It made me want to dry heave.

“Get up there and show Adrianna how a switch leap is done.”

She smiled and said, “No problem, Coach.”

I hoped she fell. On her face.

Turning toward me with her back to Kova, a conniving, small grin tugged at her knowing face. I couldn’t help but want to smack her for it. I wasn’t an aggressive kind of person, but she really knew how to get under my skin like no other.

Reagan jumped up on the beam and naturally landed a perfect leap. Of course she did. Balance beam was her favorite event, one she excelled at. Even though I couldn’t stand to look at her at times, she really had skill.

Kova dipped his chin in approval before saying, “Do it again, but this time make sure you are watching, Adrianna.”

Reagan landed a beautiful leap, as if she was born to do it. “Thank you, Reagan. You can go back to bars.”

“Yes, sir.” She hopped down and looked over her shoulder at me, grinning.

My patience was wearing thin. I was starving, tired, and I had a bitch on my team I shouldn’t even care about who would love to see me fail.

“Don’t fall, Ana,” she whispered as she glided past, patting me on the shoulder.

The urge to stick my foot out and trip her, then kick her in her pinched face was stronger than ever.

Coach looked at me expectantly. I jumped on the beam and focused on the end of it, but I could feel someone’s burning gaze on me. I refused to look up. I chewed the inside of my lip. I couldn’t mess this one up, I just couldn’t.

I got this, I got this, I got this, I chanted to myself. I had it.

Shaking out my fingers, I exhaled into the jump. Just as I was about to land, I could tell my body was off balance. I just knew—like a gut instinct, sixth sense sort of thing—I was off-kilter.

Peeking down to spot the beam, I froze mid-air, the worst thing a gymnast could do. I should’ve never looked down. I should’ve believed in myself more, trusted myself. Landing, my foot nicked the edge of the balance beam. I desperately tried to curl my toes around the edge, but I slipped and fell fast.

My stomach sunk with my body and I held my breath as I plummeted to the balance beam.

I quickly dropped my arms in an attempt to grab the beam to lessen the impact of my crotch slamming into the wood, but it was futile. My body tightened, slanting to the side; and my leg rubbed down the suede fabric, feeling the fiery burn immediately. My ribs crashed into the wooden slab and a gush of air left my lungs.

The sound of a gymnast straddling the beam was always a noticeable one. The impact was loud, and in my peripheral vision, I could see heads turning, but I didn’t look. I couldn’t. My eyes clenched shut and I was pretty sure a bone broke inside my crotch from the snapping sound the fall made. I reached blindly for the beam with my other hand, but my body rotated and I flipped over, falling onto the cushioned mat and into a fetal position.

Eighty-seventh time of straddling the beam. And moments like this made me hate gymnastics with every fiber in my body.

Fuck, I wanted to cry.

Oh God, it hurt so bad. I was curled up into a ball on the floor, my feet cushioned under my ass with my arms wrapped around my waist. My forehead pressed into the mat as I took a deep breath preparing to stand. Tears formed in the back of my eyes, but I refused to cry and further my embarrassment.