Sister City

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“You are late.” Coach Artemov’s voice thundered in the empty gym

“I’m sorry, Coach Artemov. It was my fault.”

It was my fault, I knew it, and I didn’t want Sebastian and Evie to pay for my tardiness.

“I see.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. I felt his disapproval and knew he was disappointed with me. That felt worse than being yelled at, worse than being made to do hundreds of push-ups and laps around the mats.

“Are you ready to practice now?”

I nodded meekly and pulled off all the clothes I had just put on in the car. Suddenly I felt really stupid for having brought them along.

“Ready, Coach Artemov.”

The rest of the morning flew by. Coach Artemov had me working on the uneven bars, my weakest event, for the first couple of hours. I would have preferred to work on my whip back – double layout; I had finally managed to land it once and I was more than ready to prove I could do it again. I had a sneaking suspicion that was exactly why I was working on the uneven bars.

With less than an hour left before I had to change and return to camp, Coach Artemov stopped me at the end of my routine. I had been working the same skill set for the last thirty minutes and I had nailed my Tkatchev skill. I had released at the perfect time, my form had been exquisite, and I had made a solid connection when my hands found the bar – no dangling from my fingertips this time. Nailed it!

“Do you feel you have worked hard today?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

I was temped to wipe the sweat from my forehead and fling it in his general direction, but decided that wouldn’t be the best response considering the circumstances. I dismissed my second desire, to flop down onto the floor and pant like a long-haired dog in summer. Instead, I decided to go with this.

“Yes, Coach Artemov.”

“I agree, Catherine.” He pulled me against his side in a bear hug, despite my sweaty clothes, and rubbed my arm affectionately. “Now we have fun.”

I groaned, which earned me a release from his grasp and a swat on the head. Then, smiling broadly, I said “What do you know about having fun? Did toys even exist when you were a little boy?”

“We were made to play with blocks of wood.” He paused for a long second. “Now, let me see you fly.”

I walked toward the floor mat feeling rather uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if he had been trying to make a joke. His normally kind eyes held a faraway look. If he had been making a joke, there should have been a hint of a smile. As I stepped up to the corner of the mat, I closed my eyes sadly, wondering if I had offended him.

“Fly, Catherine. Show me how you soar through the air.”

I heard the happiness and excitement in his voice and it shattered my reverie. I turned to salute Coach Artemov – my judges – and started my floor routine. I could hear him barking directions as I worked my way through my displays of strength and flexibility. When I started my first tumbling run, he fell silent, and all I could hear was the rush of the air as I sliced through it. When I got to the final tumbling pass, I added my newest skill. I didn’t need to think about it, I knew it would work – I could feel it. I could tell immediately that Coach Artemov was not happy with me for making a reckless decision – his sharp intake of breath was louder than my own labored breathing – but it was too late.

My heart was pounding as I flew through the air. I didn’t have enough time to savor the thrill of being completely weightless; I sighted the ground and barely managed to pull my legs beneath me before my feet hit the mat. I stood up and saluted. I knew I was going to get a lecture, but it was worth it. I couldn’t wipe the ridiculously proud smile from my face as I turned to meet Coach Artemov’s ire.