The 10.0

Chapter One

The Federation of International Gymnastics, FIG, has spread a stupid rumor that everyone believes. I, Sophine, officially do not. Apparently FIG will put in difficulty scores that will add to the execution score to give our final mark. People in gyms around the world are screaming bloody murder and getting worried.

It's 2012 and still no official remarks from FIG. This rumor has been going around since 2005. Right after Athens 2004. Still nothing.

"Sophine get off the beam! NOW!" Coach Tony screamed. I did a round off on the beam. Spring off into a Patterson, an Arabian (flip with half twist) and I do a double front after the Arabian in the air. My feet make contact with the ground. I stick the landing. I dramatically put my arms up and salute.

"How do you like that old man?" I ask Coach Tony.

"Stick with a double pike."

"What? Marta Karyoli will flip out when she sees another Carly. Someone from Brestyan's is doing it! I'm ready Coach. You're more than my boyfriend Tony." I put my hands on my hips.

He fixes my leotard strap. He likes me in royal blue. Tony sits at five foot seven at seventeen years old. His bright green eyes melt me to jello. His messy brown hair will make your heart pump. I do say he is MINE.

"Sophine, you have to learn how to be more consistent. A girl at WOGA, fell on the Patterson 98.4333% times. She barely gets it around. She isn't ready."

"But-"

"No buts. Now get on vault for the double twist yurchenko."

"OK." I jogged towards the vault runway into the foam pit. The one next to it is for ready to land vaults. I pass the five sets of bars and the two sets of floor exercises. Am I ever going to get on bars and floor today?

I glance down the blue runway and I suddenly see that I am at the 2012 Visas. I shake my head and I am back at the gym. I sprint down the 76 feet of carpeted runway. I hurdle and do a roundoff. Putting my hands on the white hand mat and my feet make contact with the springboard. I rebound onto the vaulting table in an arc. My feet spring over and I flip one and half times with one twist. One and a half. Two twists and then I land on my back. Into the foam pit. That was the best vault and it was in the pit. Great.

I walk out of Chow's and I drive home. I already have a rival to get to London Olympic Trials. Jessica Ross. She is eighteen. Tall. Elegant. Has nice lines. But I have more. I have elegancy, power, swan like, and I am considered a threat. According to Marta. 

I just drive home. I have to tell Mom about Jessica and we'll think of a strategy. I walk in and I smell the aroma of pasta and salad. "How was training, hon?" Dad asks.

"It was great. But one of my best vaults was in the pit and I fell straight on my back."

"That's okay, hon," Mom says.

So I head up to the room. The room. My room.