Page 4 of Salto

Our team had taken first, and I'd scored highest on both bars and beam.

As my family and I followed the hostess to our table, my dad couldn't stop talking about how he thought the judge had robbed me of a perfect score.

“You deserved a ten on that bar routine, sweetie,” my dad said as we were led to an open booth by the window.

I smiled but didn't remind him that college gymnastics wasn't scored out of ten anymore. To him, I'd earned one anyway.

Around us, some of my teammates were clustered together, laughing and reliving routines. Laney had done her floor routine flawlessly and finished strong enough to earn us the team title, and now she was celebrating with her family a few tables away.

“Yeah, I agree,” my mom added as we all took our seats. “They were being stingy. They could’ve given that to you.”

Before I could respond, the waitress asked for our drinks and if we were ready to order. I got a Dr. Pepper and the biggest T-bone I could find with a side of fries. I was starving.

“I watched the video you took,” I said to my mom. “There was a slight leg separation in my Jaeger release.”

I always studied the footage after meets. I sort of obsessed over technique.

“Yeah, I saw it too,” Jamie said, not even looking up from her phone as her thumbs moved across the screen.

“Thanks, J.” I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips.

She was always honest. Brutally so.

And I appreciated that.

Jamie was seventeen and a complete firecracker. Her hair was freshly dyed purple this month and twisted into a messy topknot, exposing her silver ear cuff that flashed in the dim bulb light above our table. She was insanely stylish and determined to get into fashion school. Tonight, she wore a patchwork cardigan that hung off one shoulder, a thin cami underneath, and baggy sweatpants cinched at the sides with bows.

“The purple looks good on you, J,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up for a second and then glancing back at her phone. We had the same brown eyes, but hers were slightly lighter, almost hazel. And she was definitely prettier. I tried not to think about the fact that she had a few inches on me, too. Five-five and still growing, while I’d been stuck at four foot nine since I was in ninth grade.

“You texting someone?” I pressed. “A boy maybe?”

“Nah, just a friend. I have a group art project due on Monday.”

“Come on, Jamie. Can you not use your phone at the dinner table?” my dad urged gently, and Jamie sighed.

“Fine.” She set the phone down and folded her arms across her chest.

A few moments later, the waitress came over with our orders. My mouth watered instantly.

“You looked comfortable tonight,” my mom chimed in.

I knew what she meant. Comfortable was her way of saying I didn’t look like I was in pain.

“How have you been feeling?” Dad asked. “Any pain when you’re competing?”

I hadn’t expected the topic to come up so soon. I would’ve rather talked about classes, Jamie’s high school life, or anything else, really. Pain wasn’t high on my list of favorite dinner conversations.

“Um… just a little when I land,” I said, munching on a fry. “Nothing serious.”

I’d learned the hard way that honesty made them worry needlessly.

“That’s a relief. I'm glad the new birth control seems to be helping,” Mom said.

“Yeah, me too,” I mumbled.

“Well, just remember you don’t have to push yourself too hard,” she continued. “College gymnastics is enough. It really is.”