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Chapters (48)
  1. Dedication
  2. Author’s Note
  3. Part 1. October 2019
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Part 2. November 2019
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Part 3. December 2019
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Part 4. January 2020
  16. Chapter 10
  17. Chapter 11
  18. Chapter 12
  19. Part 5. February 2020
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Chapter 17
  25. Part 6. March 2020
  26. Chapter 18
  27. Chapter 19
  28. Chapter 20
  29. Chapter 21
  30. Chapter 22
  31. Part 7. April 2020
  32. Chapter 23
  33. Part 8. May 2020
  34. Chapter 24
  35. Chapter 25
  36. Chapter 26
  37. Chapter 27
  38. Chapter 28
  39. Part 9. June 2020
  40. Chapter 29
  41. Chapter 30
  42. Chapter 31
  43. Chapter 32
  44. Part 10. July 2020
  45. Epilogue
  46. Acknowledgments
  47. About the Author
  48. Copyright

In Head Over Heels, both Avery and Hallie’s lives are shaped by the pursuit of Olympic glory. This book is a work of fiction, but top gymnasts’ dedication and sacrifice, even amid terrible suffering, are not. As the sexual abuse scandal continues to unfold and the coronavirus pandemic pushes the Olympics off schedule, my heart goes out to the real-life Averys and Hallies. I invite readers to escape into a world in which the coronavirus pandemic does not happen, the Olympics go on as planned, and gymnasts deserving of justice chase their dreams.

Part 1. October 2019

OCTOBER

2019

Chapter 1

• CHAPTER 1 •

The flight attendant thrusts a box of snacks under my nose without hesitation. I dab at the half-dried tears on my cheeks with the crumpled-up tissue I’ve been clutching ever since we left Los Angeles an hour ago and peer at the options.

“Popchips, Sun Chips, Doritos, pretzels, or trail mix,” she recites, snapping her gum.

Everything is processed and full of salt, sugar, or both. “Thanks, but I’m all set,” I say.

“The beverage cart will be coming next,” she says, ignoring my sleeping neighbor and swiveling to the passenger on the other side of the aisle.

The thirty-something woman next to me, whose iPhone lock screen is a selfie of her in Minnie Mouse ears kissing a man wearing Mickey ones at Disneyland, took an Ambien the moment she sat down. I’m grateful, because I’m not up for a conversation right now. It’s been two days since Tyler broke up with me, and I don’t want to talk to anyone, much less a stranger.

There was no question that I’d leave the apartment we shared. The lease was in Tyler’s name, and even though I had always promised that I’d be able to pay half the rent someday, I’d never been able to afford my share of the luxury high-rise condo. I didn’t have any friends I felt comfortable crashing with while I waited out my two weeks’ notice at work, which they didn’t really need anyway. I coached a preteen girls’ recreational gymnastics team only a few afternoons a week, mostly to have something to do while waiting for Tyler to return from football practice and games.