I take a deep breath to steady my voice. “Kim and Todd, I coached gymnastics while living in LA, and before that, I was the top gymnast in America when I was Hallie’s age. Barring an injury, I would’ve made the Olympics, and I don’t mean to brag, but I would’ve medaled on floor. I know floor. I’ve watched your daughter perform, and I have a good grasp on how to help her improve.”

They lean forward hungrily. As much as Hallie has her eyes set on the Olympics, so do they—maybe even more so.

“I’d like to choreograph a new routine for Hallie, one that plays to her strengths,” I explain. “It sounds like she’s been performing the same routine for years, and it isn’t serving her well anymore. Once she learns the new routine, it’ll be a matter of finessing her performance: we’ll work on controlling that extra power she gets on her tumbling passes, sticking the landings, moving with more poise and better posture, and polishing her dance elements. Her skills are all there. But her execution could be more graceful and dynamic, and that’s where I can help.”

Todd sits back in his seat. Kim bites her lip. They look at each other.

“Hmm,” Kim says.

I can’t tell yet if they’re fully convinced.

“If you’re able to find another floor specialist who can work well with Hallie with just eight months to go until Trials, by all means, please do,” I say. “But more than anyone else out there right now, I get exactly what Hallie is going through and I know how to help her. So, please. Let me help your daughter.”

Todd rubs his jaw. Kim swallows. I feel the same way I did during competitions, back when I had finished a routine I felt unsure about and had to wait torturous minutes for the judges to reveal my score.

“Mom, Dad, I really need help,” Hallie adds. “Come on.”

Her parents exchange glances.

“You really want this?” Todd asks.

She throws her arms up, exasperated. “I don’t have time to waste. I’m going to go warm up.”

Hallie heads to the locker room to drop off her bag.

“Let’s give this a shot,” Ryan says. “Trust me.”

Kim sighs. “All right, but if the new routine doesn’t come together soon… we’ll have to have another conversation about what’s next.”

Todd gets up, closes the button on his suit jacket, then shakes hands with Ryan and me again.

“Let’s make this work,” he says.

I can’t tell if that’s a promise or a threat.