“I’m wondering if you would want to come by the gym this week and meet Hallie,” he says. “See if you’d want to work with me to train her.”

I can’t help it. I actually laugh.

“I’m serious,” he presses.

“Ryan, I’m flattered, but this isn’t a good time for me,” I explain. “I just moved back, and I’m not really looking for coaching jobs. I mean, I’ve never coached at that level before.”

“So you’re not interested?” he asks. “I mean, Avery, we’re talking about the Olympics. I promise you, this girl has what it takes. She just needs to be polished up a bit. That’s where you’d come in.”

I hesitate. It’s dark outside now, and the row of gold trophies on the top shelf gleam menacingly in the living room window.

“I can’t,” I say.

He sighs heavily on the other end of the phone. “Why don’t you take my number in case you change your mind?”

“Uh, sure,” I say.

I add his number to my own phone, even though I know I won’t use it.

“It’s not like there are dozens of qualified coaches with Olympic experience running around this town,” he jokes.

His words make me pause. It’s like UCLA all over again, when my name was bigger than my actual achievements.

“Just Olympic Trials, actually,” I say curtly. “I never made it any further. I have to go; my family’s having dinner. Take care, okay?”

I say goodbye and hang up. When I turn back to face the kitchen, Mom and Dad’s eager faces already look hungry for news.

“It was nothing,” I say, taking my seat. “Just a call about whether I’m looking for a coaching job. I’m not interested right now. I just got back, you know.”

They exchange glances.

“It could be a good opportunity,” Dad ventures.

“And you should have something to do,” Mom adds. “It’d be good for you to get out of the house.”

They’re eager because that’s all they know. Gymnasts don’t ascend the ranks to become Olympians unless the whole family is committed from the start. My ambition burned out, but theirs never did.

“It’s really no big deal,” I say. “Let’s just eat.”