Page 52 of Salto

“Mhm,” my mom said, raising a brow.

“Well, he invited me to the camp too.”

“Did he?” my dad asked.

“And you went? Even though you decided that UCLA was the best path?” my mom asked, her tone still curt.

“Coach Rove said he thinks I can still try for elite even with my PCOS,” I said, looking down at my plate. I hated that my favorite meal now looked completely unappetizing. My stomach was in knots. This wasn’t exactly how I wanted to have this conversation.

“What about the intensity? The pain that comes with that level of training?” She was spiraling a little now. I could tell from the breathlessness in her voice.

“He thinks he can help me manage the pain.” I still had no idea how Rove intended to do that. I wished I sounded more certain.

“What about your athletic scholarship? And the cost of tuition at an elite gym?” my mom pressed, not relenting.

“Well, um⁠—”

I knew this was going to be the hard part. Telling them how I planned to afford such a path if I did go down it again.

“I would have to cut back on my classes. Try to take them online for a while. I’d also have to maybe get a part-time job and find another apartment closer to the new gym. Find some roommates to split rent with.”

My mom’s eyes widened. “Scarlet…”

“I know—” I winced. “And I still don’t know if that would even be enough.”

“She’s saying she would need you guys to pitch in,” Jamie blurted.

“Jamie,” I snapped, my anger flashing to the surface.

Whose side was she on, anyway?

She had the decency to look a little ashamed and eyed her plate.

“Scar, this is—” My mom suddenly looked panicked, like she might actually cry, and my heart clenched painfully.

Gosh, this was exactly what I didn’t want.

“Lucia—” my dad reached out, touching my mom’s hand on the table. “If Scar wants to go elite, I think we should support her.”

“What?” my mom and I both said at the same time.

There was a stunned silence for a few moments.

My dad sighed. “I think we all know that Scarlet doing UCLA isn’t fooling anyone. She wants more.”

“Will—” my mom whispered.

“She’s an adult. If she wants to make these choices for her future, she can. And if we can help support her, I think we should.”

“I can’t ask you guys to help me out, though,” I said. “I haven’t told you until now because, truly, I didn’t think it would be possible.”

“We can make it work,” my dad suddenly said, his gaze hardening.

“Dad. You’re already working Sundays.”

“I said we can make it work. If this is what you want.”

Silence settled over the table. I could see the conflict in my mom’s expression. If she didn't agree with my dad, I would probably end this whole endeavor right here and now. Without her support, I just couldn't do it.