After a few minutes of the judges conversing through whispers, the woman who seems to be the lead nods toward the coach. Eleanor puts her hands together and bends forward to say thanks before hobbling back to the middle of the mat. Someone near the floor whistles, and I swear it’s my grandfather. The crowd begins to clap in rhythm, so I bring my phone back up to my chest and steady it to record. I begin right before Eleanor’s team regroups, all of them back in their places to pick up where they were right before things went wrong.
“Are you getting this?”
“Yes. Shh,” I hush Jake.
Just like the time I lifted her to the sky in the middle of our street, I count down for her final moment.
Three, two . . . one.
Her body sails through the air, as tight as the first time, the rotation just as crisp. This time, as she lands, every arm is intact, every hold solid, and with one final swing, Eleanor’s team sends her back up in the air for her to flip with one knee out and the other tucked against her chest.
With sheer will and precision, and with Gemma’s hands gripping her leg like hell, Eleanor balances above her team and holds the position for a full three seconds before tucking and landing safely in her team’s cradled arms.
The gym erupts in celebration. There’s no way we’re placing first, not with the mistake. But it doesn’t matter. That one bobble is not what anyone is going to remember about today, especially not Eleanor. She’s going to remember facing adversity, and then overcoming it like mad.
I record all the way through the team’s exit from the mat, wanting to be sure I capture every whistle and the standing ovation that follow the Badgers’ exit. When we hear the team roar with their own cheer behind the stage, Jake and I head down to join them.
Morgan is waiting off to the side, Eleanor’s things bundled in a bag at her feet. I step up beside her to wait while Eleanor hugs her parents and grandparents and celebrates with her friends. She and her mom cry as they embrace, and I know they feel Addy’s presence. That finish—that was her doing. I’m sure of it.
“If they don’t get a trophy, I’m stealing one,” Morgan mutters next to me.
I shake with a laugh and tell her to get prepared because I may know a distraction is coming. She smiles, not getting my joke. But she will, soon enough.
“They don’t judge these things based on heart,” I add.
“Well, that’s too damn bad,” she responds.
Indeed, it is.
The drama from the Badgers’ performance caused quite a stir, and the judges are being kind, giving everyone a brief break so the other squads can come congratulate Eleanor too. She’s practically glowing, and I know she’s proud of herself. I’m not sure how many people in this building know her full story, but I am sure many do. There’s a reason this entire gym full of people clapped and cheered to encourage our team.
The crowd begins to break up and teams head back to their seats. I’m finally able to catch Eleanor’s attention, and I shove my phone in my back pocket to ready myself for the collision of her body into mine as she rushes toward me. I lift her up when we meet, but quickly let her slide into my hold, nuzzling my nose against hers. I can’t believe I get to be her boyfriend.
“How’d that feel?” I ask, whisking away the mix of tears falling along her cheeks.
“It felt—” She lifts a shoulder and smiles with a short stuttered cry. She’s happy, but she is also overwhelmed. For her, this is like the moment when I played the Bronco song and really listened. It’s a collision of feelings, a place where happiness and grief collide and work to soothe each other.
“She would have loved it,” I say, feeling Morgan squeeze in at my side. I step back so they can embrace as they agree with my sentiment. It’s a truly beautiful moment, and from the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of something that is about to dramatically shift the atmosphere.
I probably should have warned them, but in my defense, I didn’t think Jake would do it so soon after our school finished their routine. There are still something like six schools left to compete. But that doesn’t matter now. The judges finally settled the chaos, and it’s about to explode once again.
It starts with a single screech from the old woman at the side of the stage. I’m sure she’s a volunteer, but she did not sign up for this. Her squeal is what gets most people to turn and look. Eleanor pushes up on her toes to see what the fuss is about, but I cover my face with my palm then glance to the side of the stage to locate the pants I’m going to need to pick up in a few seconds.
“Is that—?” Morgan begins to ask. There’s no need for me to answer as my best friend rushes across the mat, completing his version of a cartwheel as he crosses the center, exposing everyone to way more than his pale-ass butt cheeks along the way.
Morgan is laughing so hard she can hardly breathe, meeting my deadpan stare when she realizes what I meant about a distraction. Putting it all together only makes her laugh harder.
Eleanor turns to face me, hands resting on her cheeks and mouth ajar. She looks positively stunned. I don’t really think she needed this extra boost Jake planned, but apparently he was hell bent on delivering it. Who knows? Maybe he was so amped up after Eleanor’s amazing stunt, he just
