The house is quiet when I walk in. Mom’s probably watching TV in bed, and Dad is probably reading in his office. I slump down on the couch in the living room, feeling restless but unsure what to do. That old life-sized cardboard cutout of me in a leotard is propped up against the mantel. There are visible shadows marking each individual ab and the muscular curve of my thighs, but even so, I’m slender and lithe. The cardboard version of me has one hand on my tight waist and the other casually holding the gold medal dangling from my neck. I don’t want that old image of myself haunting me anymore. I get up from the couch and fold the cardboard stand in the back into the cutout. I pick it up and see a soft gray coat of dust on the floor. I carry the cutout to the garage and prop it up by the recycling bins, facing the wall. Then I grab the vacuum from the front hall closet and suck up a decade’s worth of dust bunnies. I’m glad to see them go.

Chapter 5

• CHAPTER 5 •

Two days later, Ryan arranges a meeting with Kim, Todd, and Hallie Conway before practice. I want Hallie to like me, of course, but I’ve already done my best to win her over. Now, it’s crucial that I can convince Kim and Todd to trust me with their daughter’s career. My nerves jangle with anticipation as I slog through rush-hour traffic in the town center. I used to dread being up this early, but today I’m wide-awake. This morning will make or break me.

Summit is still sleepy when I arrive. The practice space is empty; the fluorescent lights are off; there’s no hum of Top 40 radio over the sounds of creaking bars and coaches’ shouts. I meet Ryan and the Conway family in the office. Walking into that room makes my heart pound; I wish I had more professional experience to bolster my confidence.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you,” Kim says warmly, reaching to shake my hand.

She has bangs brushed across her forehead, and she’s dressed casually in jeans and a faded, oversized button-down. I wonder if she still works, or if—like so many moms at this level—she quit her job to support her daughter’s gymnastics career.

“Hi,” Todd says, extending his hand, too.

Like his wife, he looks as if he’s in his midforties. He’s in a charcoal-gray suit, like he’s heading straight to some office job after this meeting. Hallie gets her square face and hazel eyes from him.

I take the open seat between Ryan and Hallie.

“I’m sure you don’t remember us, but I remember watching you train here years ago,” Kim says.

“Oh, really?” I say, flustered.

“You were a beautiful gymnast,” she says. “Really incredible to watch.”

“Thank you,” I say.