Chapters (48)
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- Part 1. October 2019
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Part 2. November 2019
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Part 3. December 2019
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Part 4. January 2020
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Part 5. February 2020
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Part 6. March 2020
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Part 7. April 2020
- Chapter 23
- Part 8. May 2020
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Part 9. June 2020
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Part 10. July 2020
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- 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.