Page 17 of Salto

As she passed, Rove gave her a small nod and scribbled something in his notebook.

Then he looked up.

Our eyes met across the floor, and I froze.

Had he noticed I'd helped her?

Why did it feel like I'd just broken some unwritten rule?

I forced myself to look anywhere but at Rove for the rest of floor.

It didn't help.

By the time we rotated to bars, I still felt hyperaware of him.

Caldwell instructed us to do five bar routines all the way through.

At one point, I was rechalking my grips and watching Eva do her routine. She did her clear-hip Shaposhnikova with a half turn to the high bar. Her handstand was a little short, and without meaning to, I found myself mentally correcting it.

When I stepped up for my turn, my mind was still replaying Eva's routine.

Before I knew it, I was starting into a toe-on, and panic shot through me.

I was already coming out of the clear-hip. It was too late to bail.

I did the half turn to the high bar and immediately knew I’d crossed a line.

I finished the routine cleanly, but when I landed my dismount, Caldwell was staring at me with his jaw clenched.

“Scar,” he said in warning. He didn’t have to say anything else. I knew that tone.

Shaposhnikova was not on my list of “cleared” skills.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Sorry, Coach.”

I went back in line, and Laney nudged me.

“Nice Shaposhnikova,” she whispered with a grin.

“I didn’t mean to,” I muttered.

She just gave me a knowing smile. “How long has it been since you’ve done that?”

“A while,” I mumbled.

“That’s insane, Scar.” She shook her head and started chalking up again.

I flushed, focusing on fixing my grips. Anything to avoid the eyes I felt on me.

“Is she not supposed to do that skill?” I heard Rove ask.

Caldwell sighed.

“Not exactly. She's injured, so she's supposed to take it easy.”

“Hmm.” That was all Rove said.

Injured? I fought the urge to roll my eyes.