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  At the cash register I take out the credit card that my parents gave me to use whenever I travel with the team.

  From there Zoe and I head to a shoe store and purchase shoes—with three-inch heels—to match our gowns.

  “We still have a little time left,” Zoe says. “Let’s go to the food court.”

  I’m not at all surprised to see Bobby and Michael sitting at a table and sipping smoothies.

  “You know,” I say to Zoe as she steers us toward them, “you don’t have to keep arranging these little trysts without telling me.”

  “But this way is so much more fun.”

  “Hey,” Michael says as he and Bobby stand. “What a surprise. We just came to the mall to order our tuxes.”

  “And you had no idea we’d be here?” I ask in disbelief.

  “A little birdie might have said something,” says Michael. “What can we get you to drink?”

  Zoe gets a latte. I go with an iced skinny chai.

  “So . . . ,” Bobby says, resting his crossed arms on the table. “We thought we should make sure we’re all on the same page about Saturday. We’ve rented a limo.”

  Zoe gives a little squeal. “I’ve always wanted to ride in one.”

  “We’ll have it pick us up at Zoe’s at six,” Michael says. “Bobby will pick you up, bring you over,” he says to me. “We’ll grab dinner somewhere and be at prom by eight.”

  This is happening. This is really happening.

  I look at Bobby. “Because of the family thing, it’ll work better if I just meet you at Zoe’s.”

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t mind picking you up.”

  “I appreciate that, but everything will be crazy on Saturday. It’s just less complicated to meet you there rather than have to figure out all the timing.”

  He nods. “Okay.”

  “That works better,” Zoe says, “because Charlotte is going to help me with my makeup.” She grins broadly. “We’re going to have a blast!”

  Unless I get caught.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  Coach Chris pulls me and Gwen out from the rest of the development team—the girls he’s preparing to take to trials. He wants to work with us individually on bars. On Saturday, Gwen ran into a slight block with her Kovacs that worried Coach Chris, but nothing ever stops her for long. I have my new dismount to work on—a full twisting double back. I’ve mastered it into the foam pit. Now it’s time to put it to the test. Coach Chris is quiet and nervous, chewing gum rapidly as he paces beside the mat. He likes us to be doing full routines this close to competing, especially with the high stakes of this particular competition. It’s crucial that we all give our best these last two weeks before trials.

  Gwen toe-shoots up to the high bar and begins her series of giants—starting with a handstand and then rotating her body 360 degrees, circling the bar—building up to her Kovacs. I dip my hands into the chalk bin. “Come on, Gwen! Go, girl!”

  Gwen comes up high, releases, flips twice, and grabs the bar again. It all happens in a smooth, fluid whoosh. She doesn’t even lose momentum, whips right up into a perfect handstand on the high bar and rotates in a pirouette.

  “Yeah!” I cry out.

  I check to see if Coach Chris is reacting, but his face is expressionless, and if he notices me looking at him, he ignores me. His eyes are trained on Gwen. She whips through her dismount and nails her landing.

  “All right, Charlie,” Coach Chris says. “Let’s go.”

  I dust more chalk onto my hands. I slide the springboard into place and take my position on the far side of the high bar. Closing my eyes for a moment helps to block out any distraction. After a deep breath I spring into my routine. While I’m flying, everything around me is a beautiful blur.

  But when I come to the dismount, my body doesn’t cooperate. I hit the floor standing, wobble, stumble, lose my balance and land on my backside.

  “Tight mind, Charlie,” Coach says. “Tight body. Let’s get this done. You want to head back to the pit?” he says, referring to the foam pit.

  “No, I got it,” I say.

  “One more time,” Coach says. “Just the dismount.”

  I hear impatience in his tone, and I don’t blame him. I need this dismount if I’m going to stand a chance at trials. I take the bar again.

  “Higher!” Coach’s voice rings out when I swing around fast in my final 360-degree rotation. I need height to get all those twists in. But when I come down, my feet slide out from under me and I slam onto my back instead of sticking my landing. The jarring pain knocks the breath out of me and makes my eyes water. I struggle for a few seconds to get air back into my lungs.

  Coach claps in one, short staccato. “Back to the pit!” he orders.

  I shove myself to my feet, my heart beating in my temples. Before I can take a step, Coach is there, both hands on my shoulders. He gives me a steady look. “Usually I’d tell you not to get frustrated, to take your time, it’ll come. But we don’t have time for that, and you know it.”

  “I know.”

  “So, work that dismount over there. You’ve got the ability. Get back over here as soon as you can and give me something I can work with.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  • • •

  “He knows about Saturday,” Gwen whispers to me later when we’re in the locker room.

  “He doesn’t know,” I assure her as I take my bag out of my locker. Inside it I have my gown, shoes, and makeup bag to pass off to Gwen when we get to her car. She’s giving me a ride home tonight.

  “But he was watching us so closely.”

  “Because we have to perfect our routines.”

  “You were struggling tonight,” she says. “Were you thinking about prom? Because I can’t stop thinking about it and about what will happen if we get caught.”

  I’m not really worried about getting caught, but I can’t deny that prom is on my mind.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Gwen.”

  She glances around before leaning in toward me. “I’ve never done anything that I’m not supposed to do. It’s exciting and scary, but what if my helping you means you don’t make the Olympic team?”

  “Gwen, it’s only one night.”

  “Coach Rachel thought it was only one dip in the pool topless.”

  “It’s not the same thing. You can’t bail on me now. We’ve made all these plans.”

  “I keep questioning what we’re doing, but I’m not going to bail. And I have some good news. The Gundersens are going to a fund-raiser that night, so they won’t be home.”

  “Perfect! So I could actually have Bobby pick me up at your place.”

  “And I get to meet him. See what all the fuss is about.”

  I nod. “We can discuss the rest in the car.”

  After gathering all our things, we head out of the locker room and toward the doors.

  “Charlie, Gwen!” Coach Chris jogs toward us. “Glad I caught you before you left. Talk to your parents”—he nods at Gwen—“or host parents, as the case may be, and let them know I’d like for you to pick up some extra hours of practice on Saturday. Say, two until six.”

  My stomach drops. Saturday? This Saturday? Of course he’s talking about this Saturday. It’s the last Saturday before we leave for trials.

  “I have tickets to a concert Saturday.” I don’t know how I got so brazen, lying to a coach’s face. I just hope he doesn’t ask me for the name of the band or the venue. I’ll also have to make other arrangements, because Gwen will be stuck here.

  Coach’s gaze zeroes in on me. “You’re going to a concert?”

  I push through. “I thought it would be a good idea to relax, get my mind off gymnastics for a night.”

  “There is no relaxing a week before we leave for trials.” His voice is eerily quiet. “There is no giving your mind a night off. You have to stay a hundred percent focused on the competition.”

  “You’re right,” I say, releasing
a breath. I offer him a brave smile, while inside I’m fighting the bitter disappointment. Why did I think I could get away with this? “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll give my ticket to my brother. He can take a friend.” Why do I keep talking, spinning this lie when it no longer matters?

  Coach studies my face. “I know you probably think I’m being obsessive about this, but you need the extra practice. We’ve got to get that dismount polished before trials.”

  “I know. I’m a hundred percent committed.”

  “Good,” he says, nodding crisply. “We’ll see you tomorrow at regular practice.”

  As soon as we’re out the gym doors, Gwen says, “Wow, I can’t believe you lied like that—on the spot without breaking a sweat. I would have been impressed if I hadn’t been so worried that he was going to figure it out. I would not make a good secret agent or undercover cop. I don’t think I took a breath during the whole exchange.”

  “I decided I had nothing to lose by giving it a shot. If he figured it out, the worst that would happen was that he’d chew me out.”

  “He might have decided not to take you to trials.”

  “I know there is no guarantee that we’ll make the Olympic team, but you and I have brought home enough medals from world and regional competitions that he knows we’re good. That’s why he pushes us so hard, to make sure we reach our potential.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of bummed about having practice Saturday. I was looking forward to helping you get to prom. What are you going to do now?”

  “I’ll just have to skip dinner and the ride in the limo, tell them to enjoy that part of the evening without me and that I’ll meet them at the dance.” I look over at her. “That is, if you’re willing to drive me over to the skating rink. And if not, I totally understand, Gwen. I shouldn’t have put you in this position of doing something we shouldn’t be doing.”

  She gives me a smile as we reach her car. “You’d do the same for me.”

  “I would,” I say. “I totally would. If I could drive.”

  She laughs. “That would help.”

  “I just really want to do this, Gwen. And I’ve never given up on something I wanted. I can’t give up on prom, on Bobby. I’ll figure it out.”

  I am strong. I keep fighting. I don’t give up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  The next day I’m able to catch up with Bobby at his locker.

  “Hey,” he says when he sees me. “I didn’t know you knew where my locker was.”

  “Zoe knew, since it’s close to Michael’s. I wanted to give you this.”

  He laughs as he examines the small star-shaped cardboard. On it is written, I Survived a Chick Flick. I glued a safety pin to the back of it. I made it as a peace offering and as a way to break the ice regarding what I need to talk with him about.

  “I never claimed to have any artistic skills,” I admit.

  “I like it,” he says, smiling. “Probably never wear it, but I like it. Thanks.”

  He opens his locker.

  “So there’s something else,” I say.

  He stops, looks at me intently, gives me his full attention.

  I swallow hard. “I mentioned this family situation on Saturday. I can’t get out of it, and it’s going to go longer than I thought. I can’t make dinner at six, so I thought you all could go ahead and eat and I’ll meet you at the dance instead of at Zoe’s.”

  “We could move dinner to seven.”

  “I probably won’t even be ready until seven.”

  “Then we’ll eat at eight.”

  “That’ll make everyone late to prom. I don’t want to do that to you, not to mention to Michael and Zoe.”

  “So what if we’re not there at eight?” he asks. “We miss a couple of dances and the long line for photos. Prom goes until midnight. We’ll have lots of time to enjoy it.”

  “It just doesn’t seem fair to everyone else to make them late because of my schedule.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll check with Michael and Zoe. If they don’t want to wait on us, they can go ahead. We’ll catch up.”

  “That’s a lot of trouble for you.”

  “Charlotte, I don’t care about prom. I care about going with you.”

  My heart does a little flip, even as I feel myself falling seriously in like with Bobby Singh. “I thought we were going as friends.”

  “You’re a friend I really, really like.”

  “I like you, too,” I whisper.

  “Okay, then, we’ll figure this out.”

  I nod and back up a step. “I’ll talk with you later.”

  “Count on it.”

  I spin around, slam into Josh. He puts his hands on my shoulders, steadies me. “What are you doing in this hallway?”

  “I didn’t realize it was a no-Charlotte zone.”

  He grins. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you’re never in this hallway.” His gaze shifts from me to where Bobby is. I glance over my shoulder. Was. He’s already left. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine. I have to get to class.”

  I rush off, breathing a sigh of relief. I do not need Josh getting suspicious. And I need to figure out how to avoid running into him at prom. I have the advantage that he won’t be looking for me, but I’ll be looking for him.

  I fully realize that I’m taking a risk—grasping for the best of both worlds. I hope it’s worth it.

  Later, when I’m in Mr. Alto’s class, Zoe slides into the desk next to mine.

  “Did you really think we’d go to prom without you?” she asks, looking at me as though I’m a total disappointment.

  “I know how much this night means to you,” I tell her. “I feel like I’m ruining it.”

  “You’ll only ruin it if you’re not there at all.” She reaches across, grabs my hand, and squeezes. “Charlotte, we’re best friends. We share everything. We’re going to share prom night.”

  A fissure of guilt hits me. We don’t exactly share everything. For the first time I’m beginning to regret that.

  • • •

  Mom motions excitedly to me as I jog toward the car after school. I open the passenger door.

  “Look!” she cries, holding out a magazine. “Look at this!”

  It’s a copy of Gymnastics NOW! and my face is on the cover. My gigantic face. The whole cover is me. I’m leaning forward on the beam, looking strong and confident.

  “Oh my gosh!”

  “I know!” Mom squeals. “Isn’t it fantastic? Oh my goodness, Charlie, they did the most amazing job. You look absolutely gorgeous.”

  I stare at the cover. Is this really me? My hair is a shining gold; my smile is warm and genuine. My eyes are sparkling. I look happy, in my element. Beautiful.

  “Why’d they put me on the cover and not Gwen?” I ask. Gwen has won more gold medals at world and national competitions than I have.

  “I don’t know,” Mom says. “I guess your picture worked for the cover. It is an amazing shot. I mean, I— You are breathtaking. But of course I’m biased.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I can’t work myself up to be as excited as she is. I’m worried that Gwen might be disappointed that they didn’t put her on the cover. She gets most of the media coverage because she’s brought home the world all-around title two years in a row.

  “My baby girl!” Mom exclaims, pulling me into a hug. “The article is nice too. And you and Gwen are all over the inside, along with a few of the other girls from the national team.”

  I can’t help but smile every time I flip a page and see the face of one of the girls I’ve trained with. There are some wonderful photos of Gwen. I laugh at the one of us clowning around for the photographer, trying to look sexy. I can’t believe they used it. This is really happening. “Olympic Hopefuls” is the title of the article. “Bringing It On for 2016.”

  “You’re going to get so many more opportunities like this, to be written about, to be featured,” Mom says.


  “But the success will come with a price.” I set aside the magazine and pull down the sun visor so that I can use the mirror to put in my contacts.

  “Everything worthwhile comes with a price,” Mom reminds me. It’s not the first time she’s told me that. “As always, focus on the positive.”

  “I’ve got less than two weeks left to embrace the crazy that is my life right now. After trials—if I make it—I won’t be able to keep my secret any longer. Things are likely to get a lot crazier.”

  Mom pinches my cheek lightly. “Charlie, enjoy this ride. It’s like being on bars. Remember when you were learning your first release move? What was it, a bail?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve got to let go of one bar to grab the other, right? Otherwise you’ll just keep swinging in the same spot and not go anywhere.” She reaches over to smooth my hair. “You’ve always been brave at gymnastics. I know you’re going to be brave at life, too.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Speaking of being brave—

  “So you know we have this extra practice on Saturday,” I say.

  “Yes.”

  “Gwen invited me to spend the night with her. We thought we could use the time to start mentally preparing. Get ourselves psyched.”

  “I think staying so focused on gymnastics this weekend is an excellent idea. You’re coming into the homestretch.”

  “So I can tell her yes, just go right to the Gundersens’ after practice?”

  “It works for me.”

  I try not to reveal how relieved I am. Another hurdle out of the way. Prom night is going to happen. As if on cue, I get a text from Bobby. With only one contact in, I have to squint at the screen to read it.

  Changed our reservations for the restaurant to eight.

  I text back, Great. I’ll meet you there. Where are we going?

  It’s a surprise. Can I pick you up?

  I glance over at Mom. She’s focused on the road. Bobby is going to so much trouble for prom night. I don’t want to be a stick in the mud or ruin his plans.

  I’ll be at a friend’s house.

  I just need an address.

  I type in Gwen’s address and lean back. My heart is thundering. There’s no way that Mom knows exactly what we were texting, but I still feel extremely guilty about it.