Hallie’s hazel eyes narrow, and in them, I recognize a self-conscious flicker. I see her swallow hard. If I’m guessing right, she’s gifted, hardworking, but anxious. I bet she knows her natural talent and ambition can only take her so far. Ryan knows it, too. That’s why I’m here. In my experience, a coach can’t only be your friend—they have to push you, too. Ryan doesn’t seem like the type to zero in on a gymnast’s insecurities and manipulate them into motivation, the way Dimitri did. But if he’s an effective coach on bars, beam, and vault, then maybe I could be the bad cop on floor. Gymnastics is classified as an individual sport, but it’s not really. No gymnast can succeed without a coach shaping them into the best version of themselves.

“Yeah,” I say, straightening up to my full height.

I take a deep breath and try to plaster on the front of calm confidence I used to wear in competitions. I’m out of practice.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re incredible,” I say. I explain what I’ve already told Ryan. “But your execution is sloppy and rushed. Your landings aren’t clean. Your posture is stiff. Your toes aren’t even one hundred percent pointed.”

“I point my toes,” she fires back. “I’m not a baby.”

I’m stunned into silence. If I had given Dimitri so much sass, I would’ve suffered through an extra hour of conditioning alone.

“You have the skills of an Olympian, but you don’t look like one,” I sum up. I sound cold, but I don’t care. She needs to hear it. “I’m being straight with you because I know how hard you’ve worked for god knows how many years, and I don’t want that to be a waste. You have a shot. Let me help you get there.”

She gapes a little and turns to Ryan. He shrugs and juts his chin out at me.

“Show her what you mean,” he says. “Go ahead.”

I think for a moment. I could run through feet stretches until she learned what it really means to point her toes, but that feels low-impact, unimpressive, and possibly a sore spot. Instead, I tell her to follow me to a mirrored wall along one side of the floor.

“Show me the very beginning of your routine,” I instruct. “Just the dance elements before your first tumbling pass.”

She gets into position, pauses, then launches into motion. Her arms swing, her legs bend, her head tilts. She pivots and shimmies into place. The entire thing takes five seconds. When she’s done, she looks up at me with a flat, expectant look.