Ryan backs me up, and Hallie reluctantly agrees. He steps out to grab some coffee, promising to be back in just a few minutes. This is the first time that Hallie and I have ever been alone, and I want to make the most of it. I need to get on her good side—and right now, that means finding the perfect song.

Floor music needs to be exactly ninety seconds long and contain no lyrics, so you can’t use just anything. I start by rifling through the collection of CDs and cassette tapes still stacked under the stereo, but these have all been here since before even I was a gymnast. When my search turns up nothing fresh or interesting, I pull out my phone and Google new options.

“We need something powerful, something fun,” I say, scrolling through a list of song titles. “Nothing dainty, nothing boring.”

“Maybe… jazz?” Hallie asks. She looks up at me nervously.

“You like jazz?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Yeah, it seems fun to perform to.”

“Jazz!” I practically yelp. “Let’s find you something. You need something you’ll enjoy, whatever that is.”

For the next fifteen minutes, we listen to snippets of songs and debate their merits. When we land on a track packed with energetic trumpets, we know we’ve got it right. It’s a big band number called “Jazz Fling.” Hallie bops her head along to the melody. When Ryan returns, I play it back for him and watch his expression.

“You like it?” I ask hopefully.

He gives a bemused smile. “On floor, I defer to you. Do you like it?”

This is my first big decision as a coach. The right song can make or break a routine. I know the upbeat tempo and playful sound are a strong match for the powerful physicality of Hallie’s movements. She has just enough bravado to pull it off.

“I do. Let’s do it.”

At noon, Kim returns to the gym to pick up her daughter for her midday break for lunch and homeschooling before she comes back for a second practice. It’s completely unnecessary for Kim to actually walk into the gym and chat with us; Hallie could easily head out into the parking lot on her own. I get the sense that she’s probing to see how well I’m doing. She instantly notices Hallie’s taped ankle.

“What’s going on here?” she asks.

“It’s been an okay day, but I’d get that checked out soon,” I suggest.

Kim sighs. “I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Kaminsky.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Hallie protests. “And hey, the other big news is that Avery is redoing my floor routine, and we picked new music. I’ll play it for you in the car.”

“See you this afternoon,” Kim says, ushering her daughter toward the exit.

“Are you staying here or heading out?” Ryan asks me once they’re gone.