and i won't tell you to stop

Viktoria still doesn’t know if she herself has the chance to compete as a member of the Olympic team. Her performance at World Championships last year was stunning, yes, but losing to Jordyn Wieber hurt Russia. Viktoria knows that it was her fault for losing. If she had saved her floor landings, maybe it would have been enough to take over the throne. Yet it’s all in the past now and Viktoria just wants to focus on the future.

She adjusts her grips and looks around the gym once. The large space looks frightfully empty without everyone all at once training. Aliya’s yelling at her coach again, so Viktoria diverts her eyes to Anastasia Grishina, who will be attending the London Test Event in a few weeks. It’ll be her opportunity to show off her skills. Viktoria doesn’t really care who makes the Olympic team except for Anastasia. A number of years ago, they vowed to attend and compete in the Olympics together. Now it’s their opportunity to do so. A dream could come true in the blink of an eye. Anastasia cannot falter at the test event. She can’t. Viktoria doesn’t attempt to think about what could happen if she does.

Anastasia stares back at Viktoria and smiles shyly, her bangs covering her hazel eyes. Viktoria gives her a little thumbs up, which makes Anastasia giggle. Viktoria’s coach glares at Anastasia and she shrinks back to her balance beam routine. Viktoria sighs and hops on the low bar once more.

The training session goes by as usual. She works on new skills and polishes old ones. Her coach tells her all about what she has to do to become even better than just a World Championships silver medalist in the all-around. She needs to get the gold medal this time around.

When the girls finish training, they get ready for dinner together. Anastasia’s lilting singing voice fills the shower stalls in the locker room of Krugloye Ozero. Viktoria blushes as Anastasia sings the latest Russian pop hit. She still can’t believe how lucky she is to have Anastasia Grishina as her girlfriend, her very own to call beautiful. So Viktoria attempts to sing along with Anastasia, though she doesn’t really know many of the words.

“Vika, how many times have you actually listened to the song?” Anastasia asks, water running all over her body.

“Not that many,” Viktoria confesses as she rinses out the floral-smelling conditioner in her hair. She likes feeling the cool water caress her dirty body. It makes her feel clean and well-rested, both hard to actually accomplish in the gym.

Anastasia laughs, filling the area with her sweet sound. “Such a shame. It’s a great song.”

“Shut up and let me shower in peace,” Aliya groans in the shower stall between them. Anastasia keeps laughing. Aliya has no idea that the two of them are dating. No one does, in fact. Not even when Viktoria visited the Grishin’s had anyone suspected anything more than friendly companionship. Viktoria doesn’t want to be the one to ruin everything they created together.

Viktoria fights the urge to stare at Anastasia who’s only wrapped in a towel as clothing. She goes behind the shower curtain and holds her breath involuntarily. She doesn’t leave the shower stall until the sound of footsteps fades away.

She slips out of the stall and nonchalantly whistles. Aliya’s voice holds her back. “I have a question for you, my little Vika.” Viktoria stops in her tracks, her blonde hair dripping all over the laminate tile. Aliya’s blow-drying her hair in hopes her dark brown, thick hair will somehow manage to dry by a respectable time. Her heart pounds and she hopes it isn’t popping out her towel.

“Yeah?”

“Do you like anyone?” Aliya asks. The sound of the hair dryer fills the room. Viktoria can feel her skin burning red. She fidgets, uncomfortable in just a towel.

Viktoria moves closer to the door. “What does it mean to you?” No one knows about her feelings toward Anastasia. No one is supposed to know. Having upper-level officials know, like coaches, would devastate both of their careers and practically end their Olympic chances in a second. If they found out, of course. Not like any of them ever did or ever really cared, but she didn’t want to take chances.

Aliya shrugs and unplugs the hair dryer from the wall. “Just wondering. You’ve been acting a bit weird lately. It’s Nastya, isn’t it?” Aliya whips her body around to face Viktoria. Her dark eyes stare into Viktoria’s hazel ones. Her face scrunches up a little bit, as if she’s holding back tears.

Viktoria sighs. “How did you know? Why do you care?”

Aliya laughs nervously with the hair dryer firmly in her hand. “I can see. It’s not that hard to tell, Vika. I don’t think the others can see, so you’re off the hook. Nastya really admires you, for what it’s worth. And as to why I care...” Aliya shakes her head with an anxious smile. “I can’t freaking believe it. I like you, Vika, that’s why I care. But I’ll get over it. You know I will.”

Viktoria’s heart cracks into small pieces. Aliya’s been through so much: the injury, people prying into her life, and now, this. To make it worse, the last problem is Viktoria’s fault. She didn’t want to be the cause of Aliya’s sad emotions. “Alka,” she starts. She doesn’t know what to say. How could she console the one person who desires her most?

“I’ll be ok,” Aliya says. “I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, need to put some clothes on.” Viktoria looks down at her wet body and scowls. Aliya laughs wholeheartedly this time around. Viktoria gives her a little smile and runs to her dorm room. Maria’s not back from holiday yet, so Viktoria changes in the comfort of the room. Her thoughts race. Aliya likes Viktoria who likes Anastasia who likes Viktoria back. She shakes her head and chuckles at the absurdity of it all.

For the next days, training happens in the gym, albeit when there’s not that many gymnasts around to groan and yell. Viktoria likes training in silence. It pumps her up and gets her focused on what her goal is ahead: Olympics. Anastasia leaves for the London Olympics Test Event and then, the next day, gymnasts arrive back to Krugloye Ozero.

Viktoria’s chalking up to do one last routine on the uneven bars for the day when she hears the door to the gym open and a blood-curdling scream echo through the gym. “Vika!” she hears with the last vowel drawn out for what seems like a millenium. Viktoria falls on a mat as someone tackles her to the ground. “I’ve missed you!” Viktoria brushes her hair away from her face.

“Masha?”

“I didn’t want to go to our room just yet,” she says. Maria pulls her red hair back and winks her right gray eye. “You’ve missed me, right? How could you not have?” Viktoria smiles. Tonight’s movie night in Aliya’s room and Viktoria will be excited to see everyone in the gym again instead of a select few. Besides, tomorrow is the London Test Event competition, and Viktoria’s very anxious to hear of Anastasia’s results. It might make or break her chances of London. Their dream has to be fulfilled.

Maria rolls off of Viktoria’s stomach and Viktoria uses her arms to help her stand up. “Oh, Masha. I’ve missed you and your crazy antics. I need to do one more uneven bars routine and then I’ll come up and we’ll catch up. Alright?”

“Cool. We’ll probably have to wrestle a romance movie out of Alka’s hands when you finish.” Viktoria laughs again. Maria’s too silly. Viktoria mounts the low bar and Maria leaves the gym. She focuses on the bars in front of her. Release, catch, release, catch, repeat until confident. And then she finishes with a flourish.

Viktoria finally makes her way to her dorm room. Maria catches her off-guard as soon as Viktoria walks in. “Hey, so, Nastya’s at the London Test Event?” Viktoria tries not to look into Maria’s gray eyes. She feels like Maria will know everything if she does.

“She is.”

“They didn’t send you?” Maria chuckles, her smile extending up her cheeks. “I’m just teasing, Vika. It’s good to take Nastya. More to prove, I guess. And she needs the experience; she’s such a rookie!”

“Very funny, Masha. She doesn’t have the experience like we do, but I know she’ll do very well. The coaches want to make sure that she’s the right choice for the Olympic team, and I can’t blame them.” Viktoria conceals her fear of Anastasia not making the team with a polite statement. Maria doesn’t comment on it and starts to hum a popular Russian song. Viktoria exhales, noticing that she’s held her breath for a while.

At first, Viktoria doesn’t hear what Maria has to say. “What? Did you say something about Alka?” she asks. Her mind’s wandering to gymnastics training and whether her brother is home from work at this time or not.

Maria laughs again. “I asked if Alka questioned you about something really important.” She smirks and Viktoria blushes. “Like, romantically important.”

Viktoria playfully slaps her. “You are not subtle at all!” She stops talking and Maria raises her eyebrows for her to continue. “And yes, if you really care that much, she did.” Maria squeals and jumps up and down, her eyes shining. “I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal, anyway,” Viktoria comments.

“And... what happened after that?”

“Why do you even care, Masha?” Viktoria feels this sense of deja vu come over her. She ignores it.

Maria’s smirk is still on her face. “Well, Alka told me that she kind of had a thing for you, so I told her that she should totally go for it! I mean, you and her are pretty close friends. You guys could definitely be more than friends. So? What happened?”

Viktoria rolls her eyes as she flops onto her bed and checks Vkontakte messages on her phone. “Nothing really.” Maria’s eyes bulge at this. “I told her I wasn’t really interested. Alka’s fine with that and she’ll move on. That’s really it.” Viktoria types out a reply to her brother saying that she should send some sweets to her at Krugloye Ozero because they’re contraband and she can’t have them anywhere near her until the Olympics are over. Which means her brother will have to send her some, just enough to make her remember what sugar is and tastes like.

“Why?” Maria’s voice gets stronger and lower.

“There’s someone else.” Viktoria hits send and begins to reply to another message. This time, it’s from her neighbor friend in Voronezh.

Maria knocks the phone of our her hand. “Are you freaking kidding me? Who else is there besides Alka and the male gymnasts like Belyavskiy and Garibov?”

Viktoria blushes and tries to not look Maria directly in the eye. “There’s someone kind of unexpected. You’d probably never guess it, but there’s someone.” Maria pauses for a moment to think about it. Viktoria even thinks Maria has it all figured out, but instead, Maria shrugs. “You don’t know? You don’t even have a guess as to whom it may be? Wow. I’m shocked.”

She swats Viktoria away. “Oh, don’t be so surprised. I actually don’t know all the gossip around here, though that may sound very awkward and strange.” Maria thinks about this for a second. “Wait, that does sound awkward and strange!” Viktoria collapses in a fit of giggles. “Vika, don’t think you’ve gotten away with anything just yet. You totally have to tell me who you like!”

“I like Nastya,” Viktoria says in one quick breath.

“What?”

“Nastya. I like her.”

All Maria does is smirk and waggle her eyebrows. “I knew it all along, baby. It was so freaking obvious. I’m happy for you though.”

_____________________________________________________

The European Championships are coming up soon. Anastasia brought home the uneven bars title from the London Test Event. It almost seals her fate onto the Olympic team for Russia. But regardless of talent and medal count, all the girls need to pass the European Championships first, which makes Viktoria very nervous. This competition, means more than anything right now. It’ll show which girls can handle international pressure.

It also means endless teasing between Maria and Viktoria. Though Anastasia and Viktoria are a pair, Viktoria immediately elected to sit next to Maria on the plane and room with Maria while in Belgium, specifically, Brussels. It would be too weird to have that change all of a sudden. They’ve been roommates and best friends since what seems like forever. Besides, Viktoria would never hear the end of it from Maria or Aliya if she spent nights in a room with Anastasia. Especially Maria.

So Viktoria settles in her plane seat by the window as Maria chomps on nuts she bought from a store inside the airport. Viktoria looks out the window and sees the world she’s leaving for another, bigger, more exciting, world. Her thoughts are interrupted when Maria asks, “Hey, Vika. Want some nuts?”

Viktoria shakes her head and chuckles. Across the aisle sits Anastasia Sidorova near the window, Anastasia Grishina, and Aliya. The latter reaches over and grabs Maria’s jar of nuts. “Hey! I was planning on eating those,” Maria whines. Viktoria takes off her white parka and keeps laughing.

“You don’t need any more unhealthy chemicals in your body,” Aliya retorts, swallowing a mouthful of nuts and takes another handful before giving the jar to the Anastasias.

“The freaking jar says ‘organic’! Give it back!” Maria groans. Viktoria looks over at Anastasia Grishina and she winks at her. Anastasia covers her laugh with her hand and then smiles at Viktoria like they’re the only two people on the plane. Maria gives Anastasia a knowing eyebrow waggle, which makes her turn away from Viktoria. Viktoria peeks for a second longer and then turns to the free in-flight magazine.

The flight is anticlimactic. Viktoria blasts her Russian pop music and Maria falls asleep on her shoulder. Aliya watches television shows that she downloaded on her phone. Anastasia Grishina reads and Anastasia Sidorova multitasks between listening to music, reading, and drawing all at once. Arriving in Brussels is boring too; the weather is bland and wet. The girls retrieve their bags and hustle over to the van that takes them to the hotel.

“Anyone know when we’re training tomorrow before podium training?” Maria asks once they’re safely secure in the car.

“Too early,” Anastasia Sidorova moans. Anastasia Grishina promptly snorts at this. Viktoria smiles at this. No matter how much they love gymnastics, the Krugloye Ozero gymnasts always want to delay training as much as possible.

Aliya pipes up as the oldest, most experienced, and therefore, wisest. “I think... I’m almost positive that the coaches scheduled the gym for seven o’clock tomorrow.” Everyone’s eyes light up at this. “In the morning.” Their instant smiles fade away like breath in the cold air. “Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“You are so mean, Alka,” Maria says. She playfully turns away from Aliya and whips Viktoria with her red hair. Viktoria sighs and Maria pats her on the shoulder.

Aliya lifts up her hands and says, “I’m not the one in charge of training times!”

With that, the girls stay silent until arriving at the hotel. The girls separate with Aliya getting her own room, Viktoria and Maria on the right of her, and the Anastasias on the left of her room. Viktoria doesn’t talk much with Maria; they’re too tired to speak to each other. Dinner goes about the same way. The junior gymnasts drone on and on about all the excitement and what they’ll be doing the next few days before the competition begins. Viktoria jabs her elbow into Anastasia’s arm.

“Hey, that sounds just like us,” she whispers in Anastasia’s ear just as she begins to take a bite of her salad.

“Who?” Anastasia asks after she swallows.

“The juniors, like Evgesha and Katya. Remember when we were at the European Championships together two years ago? Everything’s certainly changed since then,” Viktoria mutters. Anastasia sighs along with her. Viktoria can’t believe the years have flown by so quickly already. It seems like just yesterday the two of them were making a pact to go to the Olympics together and now, now is their time to shine.

Anastasia nods solemnly. The two of them have been through so much at Krugloye Ozero and in various competitions. Now the European Championships are already here and all Viktoria and Anastasia need to do is hit their routines. Which, to be honest, can be a very challenging task at a time like this. The pressure can be too much.

The girls all keep talking and eventually the junior gymnasts drift over to the seniors table. No one dares to mention the competition coming up. They talk about trivial topics, like music and boys and gossip not always including gymnastics. For a moment, Viktoria feels like they are normal girls with normal lives, not worrying about what will happen at training tomorrow or how will they ever make the Olympic team without all their skills in perfection. It doesn’t last long because Aliya reminds the girls to go to sleep early because they have training the following morning. Viktoria wants to groan, but she holds it in to give the younger girls a role model image to look up to.

The next morning, the training cycle happens again except in a gym in Brussels. It’s deja vu for all the girls. Viktoria does her best to hit all her practice routines, but she still manages to screw up a few of them. She keeps her anger inside of her and doesn’t rage at her coach like Maria does for the half the time they’re in the gym.

Training days pass like this. The girls don’t have much time to visit Brussels though Viktoria takes the Anastasias to a nearby shop and buy little souvenirs. And then the day of the competition comes, slowly but surely.

“Masha! Get up! You have to compete today!” Viktoria shouts at the sleeping girl who’s on the competition floor lying down and not stretching. “Come on. You slept for a solid nine hours last night. No one disturbed you.” Maria moans in response.

Aliya pushes herself out of her split and pokes Maria in the stomach. “Come on, Masha. Please get up. You do want to make the Olympic team, don’t you?” This gets Maria to at least sit up. “Now, stretch, please. We want to make a good impression on the judges and the fans. I’d rather not be known as the gymnast who has to deal with a super lazy teammate.” With that, Maria finally stretches in her left split. “Much better.” Aliya rolls her eyes at Viktoria and Viktoria bites her lip to stifle a laugh.

The competition starts and Viktoria does her best to hit all of her routines four-for-four. She focuses on her landing on vault, to keep all the handstands on uneven bars, to not fall on balance beam, and be artistic and powerful on floor. She’s somewhat successful, but Aliya makes mistakes that eat away at their total score. In fact, all the girls do and Romania takes the team title and Russia gets the silver. The five of them pretend to be very happy with their performance and smile for all the cameras. “I’m really happy,” Anastasia Sidorova even says to keep their morale up. They keep pretending until arriving in their hotel rooms.

Aliya, in her choked voice, calls out, “Meeting in my room.” Maria, Viktoria, Anastasia, and Anastasia look at each other and follow Aliya into her room. None of them sit down or say anything until Aliya speaks. “I’m sorry for letting the team down. I should have trained longer or not have come at all.”

“You didn’t let us down -” Viktoria starts to speak, but Aliya shakes her head, signaling her to stop. Viktoria doesn’t want Aliya to feel this way about her performance. It’s too late to change what happened.

“Now, I want all of you hit to your event finals routines,” Aliya says with tears in her eyes. “So, you know, you can be champions.” With that, the other girls tear up too. They huddle into a group hug. “You all will do great if you hit your routines as you did today.”

The next few days are event finals and Viktoria watches all the routines with enthusiasm. She needs to know what she’s up against for an all-around gold medal at the Olympics. Her major competitors are in the United States, but she needs to defeat all competitors, not just American or European ones. There’s also China to worry about.

Uneven bars finals comes and Viktoria is competing with Anastasia. “Nastya,” Viktoria says while hugging her. “I really want to give you a kiss for good luck.”

Anastasia pulls away. “Then do it.” Viktoria pecks her on the cheek and Anastasia can’t help but blush beet-red.

Viktoria and Anastasia’s routines are executed as close to perfection as they can make them. Viktoria takes the title for uneven bars and Anastasia gets second place. “Looks like we’ll make the Olympics,” Viktoria whispers in Anastasia’s ear right before the medal ceremony. Anastasia giggles nervously with her eyes shining in the lights of the arena.

When the cameras and viewers all leave the arena so that it’s only the gymnasts, Viktoria looks around to see if anyone is watching. No one is, so she pulls Anastasia in for a long, slow, beautiful kiss. “Congratulations, Nastya,” she says with her signature smile. Anastasia tugs on her blonde bangs and grins right back at Viktoria.

“Congratulations to you, Vika. First place in all of Europe. I couldn’t be more proud of anyone.”

Returning home is less eventful. All of the senior gymnasts fall asleep and the junior gymnasts talk and talk about how great they performed, considering their first place team medal. Viktoria feels relieved that this big competition is over. Now she can focus on getting her routines ready for the Olympic games. Except the Olympics aren’t a game for her. The Olympics is the dream she has been working for for years, maybe even her whole life. Her mother never had the chance to experience the Olympics and Viktoria wants to honor her in some way in London. So she sleeps with dreams of winning the all-around medal and the team gold.

The Olympic team is basically decided. Anastasia Sidorova injures herself slightly. The Russian Cup is one more opportunity for the gymnasts to show off what they can do. Viktoria wins team finals with her team, along with all-around and balance beam. Her uneven bars only garners her a third place. Viktoria trains with everyone else, hoping that the Olympic team will be released soon. And then the day comes unexpectedly.

Alexandrov gathers all the gymnasts eligible for the team in the training center. The juniors are training, but when they see all the senior girls line up, they stop on all the apparatuses. Maria Kharenkova does a wolf jump and hits the beam with a loud boom sound. No one in the gym is talking and it echoes. She does a simple dismount and looks over at the girls.

Alexandrov doesn’t say too much. “You girls have trained very hard. I am proud of every one of your efforts. The team going to London will be Ksenia Afanasyeva, Anastasia Grishina, Viktoria Komova, Aliya Mustafina, and Maria Paseka with Tatiana Nabieva and Yulia Inshina as the alternates.” Viktoria openly sobs and all the gymnasts gather in one big circle of hugs. Viktoria catches Anastasia’s eye and they laugh together because their secret dream is slowly coming together.

After training that day, Viktoria goes over to Anastasia, puts her arm around her broad shoulders, and says, “So. It looks like we’re going to London after all.”

I'm not sure when I found myself looking at her more often. She would send small gifts to the gymnasts at the Village. Nothing sweet or sugary that would potentially harm our chances of winning, but instead, they were stuffed animals or nice trinkets. I appreciated that; she thought about her competition more like friends than anything else. I wanted to feel the same way. Rather, I'm Aly Raisman, ruthless competitor.

Her hair was dark and beautiful that day, and her eyes sparkled. She knew maybe she'd have a chance of winning a medal on floor. Aliya was hugging everyone in her sight. She finally got to me. I didn't really acknowledge her at first, but I turned around and there she was, the stunning beauty.

She leaned over and hugged me. "You did good," she whispered. I was rendered speechless. Her voice was soft and smooth, like caramel. I wanted to express my feelings: I was happy and delighted that someone would cheer me on.

I had cheered her on throughout the Olympics. Not really out loud, but inwardly I would telepathically send her little messages like, "Good job, Aliya!" or "I'm sure you can do it. Just put yourself in the right mindset." So having her come up to me like this was an honor in itself. It was like a bonus for almost securing the gold.

She gave me a thumbs-up signal and I had to smile at her. How could anyone not? When the cameras were away, I told her, "We should keep in touch. Like emails and stuff." I'm not sure she fully understood, but she nodded and gave that grin that makes me melt all over.

The medal ceremony was perfect. Everything about it was everything I dreamed of and more. And when it was over, the best moment came.

Aliya kissed me on the cheek and said, "I hope I will compete against you soon."

I haven't talked to her since the Olympics. I'm not sure if I will ever see her again, which pains me. But I have that moment, and it made my day into something even more special than I could've ever imagined.

I can't thank her enough for talking to me. It's a little detail in a whole big picture.

I remember watching you pass away in front of my own eyes.

That night was the worst night of my life.

I had to be treated for some minor injuries, but it was nothing compared to what you had to go through. Apparently, your death was instantaneous. I know it wasn’t though. I know you shouted my name once, or at least tried to. You were alive for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore. And I wish, I wish, I wish that things could be different.

I still love you, you know.

Your funeral was a mess. A disaster. Everyone was crying and I almost couldn’t make it through the service. I did though, in honor of you. You would have survived if it was me. So I did it for you. Because no matter what happens in the future, I will always love you. I will always miss you. I will always regret what happened that night.

But I will move on. It’ll be slow, but I will move on. I can assure you that. I know that you would want me to. Wallowing in misery isn’t a McKayla Maroney thing to do. Nor is it a Kyla Ross thing. I’ll be strong. Don’t worry so much about me.

My words to you at the wake were emotionally tied. I don’t remember much of it. I do remember repeating your name a lot. “Kyla, Kyla, Kyla, Kyla, Kyla. I know you can hear me and I know you’ll watch over me. I’ll realize that you morphed me into someone I aspire to be. You changed me, and for that, I can’t thank you enough. Oh, Kyla. I love you.”

I’m trying to move on day-by-day. Some days I don’t really succeed, and others I do. Having the Fierce Five, the other gymnasts, and the whole gymnastics community helps. Tweets, messages, even Instagram comments, make a world of a difference. It’s been a few weeks now, which is slowly fading into months. I’m afraid I’ll forget you, if I’m being quite honest. What if I forget what your voice sounds like, or how you part your hair? Or maybe I won’t clearly recall the lines of your smile and which way your mouth tilted - if it even tilted at all. These feelings hurt, maybe even more than the pain of losing you. I don’t want to forget you and everything we had together.

It’s so hard without you, Kyla. I never truly appreciated you until it was too late. I wish I could have said so much to you. I wish we could have had more time together. But there has to be a purpose for this. So I will slowly return to my normal life: gymnastics training and schoolwork. It probably won’t really be normal, but it will do for now.

You’ll always be in my heart.

I digress, but these letters help me remember everything we experienced together as “Mack and Ky” and as “McKayla Maroney and Kyla Ross, Olympic gymnasts”, and everything in between. I don’t want to forget it and I hope you never did forget the first time we met or the first time we kissed and all the little things that we should’ve appreciated more. So I’m leaving these letters at your grave so that maybe wherever you are, you’ll read them and have a smile on your face. Your heart will warm and your soul will soar. Because if you forget, Kyla, I will too. We can’t let that happen.

At the end of the day, it’s not the medals we win. It’s not. It’s how we interact with others and how we brighten others and how we get to know other people. These people change us. That’s how we will be remembered. Everyone will remember the cute, awkward girl with the smile on her face, but not necessarily the Olympic champion who won with her four best friends. Though that may be a nice memory to have too.

I love you.

I miss you.

I won’t forget you.

Don’t forget me.

Love,

I remember the first time I went on a drive with you.

We both had our licenses, but we never drove each other around. So as our make up date, we decided to just spend the night together and drive. Besides, I needed to prove that I was a much better driver than you. Come on, Kyla, you know it. Don’t try to make excuses. Seriously though, you aren’t the best at driving.

After we had finished our late night training, I drove to your house, but you weren’t home yet. Your mother attempted to entice me with cookies, tea, and your sister’s company. I politely declined, because, well, cookies are not good for a gymnast about to compete, tea isn’t my thing, and your sister probably had something better to do than talking to me that night. I do love your sister, Kyla, don’t get me wrong.

When you came back from training, you exchanged hellos with your family and then ran to your room to change for our drive.

So around eleven at night, you were driving me around the Aliso Viejo area. We were just talking about school and gymnastics. Nothing really special. But I felt so special when I was with you, which is enough for me. Life was just starting to settle down in California. I whipped out my phone and took a selfie with only half of your face in it. I posted it on Instagram with the caption: “hanging out with my bestie! @kyla_ross96”. Immediately, likes poured in and we made the popular page.

“Ky! Our couple selfie made the popular page!” I squealed.

“It’s not a couple selfie when only half my face is in it,” you muttered. I smirked and put my phone away to focus on you.

We kept talking until you pulled into a supermarket. “Your turn to impress me, Mack.” You cocked your head and got out of the driver’s seat. I gulped. It seemed like a threat; if I didn’t drive well enough, something bad would happen to us. Little did I know what was going to happen next.

There weren’t many people out driving that night. You rested your head on the car window. “Mack?”

“Yeah, Ky?”

“I still can’t believe we made the Olympics together,” you admitted, staring out into the world with your naivety. I couldn’t look at you while I was driving. But I sucked in those moments regardless. Your dark hair was messily placed in a ponytail and your eyes were drooping due to a lack of sleep. Your skin glowed with radiance and elegance. And it seemed like you didn’t have a care in the world except maybe to be with me for eternity.

I shake my head. “No, I can’t really believe it.” You sat up straight and turned on the radio, changing to our favorite pop music station. With the familiar beat playing, I began singing along. You laughed a second, shaking your head, before singing too.

There were no cars on the roads as we drove around singing at the top of our lungs. It felt like no one or nothing could stop us.

I didn’t think anything could and how wrong I was when it all happened. I can’t really blame myself, can I?

We hit a red light and we danced and sang until the light turned green again. Your dark brown eyes met mine for a moment. Our love could not be compared to anything. We were infinite and beautiful. I’ll never forget that second when everything felt right; everything fit perfectly in my world and in yours and it was all ok.

All of a sudden, I heard a car horn, a scream, and the sound of metal rubbing against metal. My life literally flashed right before my eyes. I heard sirens and knew we were in big trouble. I was locked in my seat belt and couldn’t move. I knew I was ok. All I could think about was you.

“Kyla!” I shouted. “Can you hear me?” But you didn’t respond to me. So I just screamed your name in hopes that you would miraculously yell, “McKayla!” and everything would go back to normal, that this car accident was just a dream of sorts. Someone cut my seat belt and put me on a stretcher. I still kept chanting your name; you were my lifeline.

If I could change anything about that night, I wouldn’t have gone on that street in the first place. I never knew a drunk driver could change our lives in an instant. But if I still had to go on that street, I wish you were driving. You would be more careful. You would feel something go wrong before it even happened. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt since the car came from the other side. And for that, I’m so sorry.

Please forgive me.

Love,

McKayla

_____________________________________________

I lean over and turn the knob to find my favorite radio station. I take that back. It’s not favorite radio station by any means. It does play One Direction, my favorite boy band. But that’s really it. It’s more McKayla and McKenna’s style. But since McKayla’s in the car and we’re driving together like a miniature date, I relinquish my music taste over to her desire. With the first note of the song, McKayla smiles. It’s unspoken, the connection between us.

I had impressed McKayla with my driving skills earlier in the night. I recently got my license and finally, just finally, I am starting to go on my own to places, like, let’s say, the supermarket. Not exactly the most fun way to use a driver’s license, but still practical and easy. Yet this time, I get to be with the love of my life. After all those hours I spent studying with my friends and practicing in various parking lots, I truly understand what it means to be free behind the wheel.

Though now I’m in shotgun again while McKayla drives me around southern California.

“Do you like this song?” McKayla asks me, her eyes focused on the road ahead of her. “Because I do.”

I shrug. “Yeah, it’s alright. Not my favorite, but it’s still worthwhile to listen to.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good then. The only artist you even like nowadays is One Direction!” McKayla snickers and I roll my eyes. My music repertoire has greatly grown since the London Olympics, no thanks to her.

We hit a red light. I turn to her and we sing this sad duet to each other. The song’s really overplayed on the radio, but McKayla and I jazz it up enough to make each other laugh. We groove to the beat. There’s no one driving on the roads this late at night, so we go all out. No one would be like, “Oh! McKayla Maroney, the best vaulter in the world, and that girl who was at the Olympics are dancing right next to me in a car! I have to take a photo of this.” That’s exactly what would happen.

The song changes to something more upbeat and lively. We take turns with each line because the red light takes forever to go to green. The light flickers from the deep red to the bright green and McKayla hits the gas. Our eyes lock. I smile nervously and she looks away for an instant to focus on the road.

All of a sudden, a car horn goes off. I feel something hitting against my rib cage and it hurts even more than conditioning in the gym when I’m stiff or sore. I scream, because the pain doesn’t seem to go away. I try to say, “McKayla!” but it comes out muffled. I don’t really know what’s happening, but it’s bad. I groan in pain.

I can only think of the pain, my family, and McKayla.

I remember the first time we reconciled our fight.

It was hard, that month without you. My thoughts kept drifting back to you and everything we had together. We had to keep up appearances for the media and whatever. I’d tweet and you’d respond and we would go back and forth for a while, pretending that everything was fine between us. It hurt too much, but we had to do it. I couldn’t risk everyone knowing. And Jordyn, Gabby, and Aly never knew either. I’ve yet to tell them.

I kept training in the gym. I wouldn’t let my emotions control my life. I attempted to keep everything under control, like it didn’t affect me at all.

We now know that’s not true. It never really was.

If you turned back time, to the day of our fight, I would change so much. In fact, I would probably never have said what I did to begin with. Now that I know the implications and consequences of what it led to. But I can’t turn back time like Hermione’s time turner in the Harry Potter series, though that would be totally awesome and you and I could have taken adventures together in the past and in the future.

I digress. Anyway, I’d spend more time than I’d like to say thinking about you and what went wrong. I wanted to call you up and apologize for all the things I’ve done wrong to you, Kyla. Believe me, I’ve done a lot wrong. And you never really got mad at me for it. So I have to thank you for that. You put up with a lot more than you should from me.

No one could ever tell how my heart hurt and ached for you. You would be able to tell, but you weren’t with me at the time.

Finally, I had to do something. I couldn’t let you depart from my life forever. Besides, competition season was really revving up now, and I don’t think either of us could have made it without a good reconciliation.

But first, I called up Aly to ask how to deal with a fight and managing life without the person you want the most. I never told you this, Kyla, because I didn’t think it was necessary to do so. Aly is one of our best friends and I was sure that she could help us both indirectly. “Hey, Aly! Am I interrupting you?”

“No, Mack, I’m just studying some lovely calculus.” She laughed for a moment and then noticed I wasn’t laughing along with her. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?” Tears were flooding my eyes, but I vowed not to cry. I wasn’t done fighting yet. “Come on, you can tell me everything. Every single thing.”

I had to take deep breaths. “I... Oh, Aly. I’m just kind of sad because I’m fighting with someone about something so trivial, it’s not even funny anymore. How do I make up and get rid of all this negativity?”

Aly sighed. “Just tell them how you feel about the whole situation. I’m sure if they hear from your point of view, they’ll understand you perfectly.”

“But -”

“No buts, Mack. If they don’t understand you at that point, then they aren’t worth having in your life. Trust me on that. It hurts to cut people out; it’s all for the best, ok? You’ll be so much happier when you delete those toxic relationships,” Aly said. “You’re too good to stay with someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

I was speechless, but we went on with the conversation as if nothing happened. She asked me about school and we spent hours describing boys and television shows. Well, she was with the boys and I talked about television shows. I caught up with Teen Wolf and Pretty Little Liars when you didn’t talk to me. It had been a while since I had a nice long talk with Aly and I know I need to catch up with Jordyn and Gabby, you don’t need to remind me. I wish I could catch up with you now too.

Anyway, I dialed your phone number the next day with my heart racing and a bead of sweat hanging on my forehead. I was thinking that you might not pick up the phone for various reasons: training, no time, or you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. If anything, I would hope it would be the first choice and not the others. But you picked up on the last ring. “Hi, McKayla.” Your voice was cold and strained.

We apologized to each other and finally started talking again like the friends and lovers we are. I missed you.

I miss you now too. Don’t forget.

Love,

McKayla

_________________________________________________________

My phone starts to ring twenty minutes before I have to head to practice. I groan. Everyone knows not to disturb me since it’s almost competition season. Soon, the World Championships team will be chosen and I need to make it. Training takes my mind off losing McKayla; I’m starting to realize that she may never come back to me so I need to know how to survive without her.

I look at the caller identification and sigh. Finally, after all this time. “Hi, McKayla.”

My voice sounds harsh and nothing like it usually does. I cough, trying to fix it. She replies, “Hey, Ky. I... I have missed you.”

I don’t mean to forgive her so easily, but the words come spilling out. “I miss you too.” I sit on my bed, hoping these minutes don’t pass too quickly so I’ll have to go to Gym-Max.

“And I’m really sorry,” she blurts out. “I made a joke at the expense of your feelings, and I know that’s disrespectful and not ok. It hurt our relationship together. You tolerate a lot from me, so you deserve better treatment. I’m definitely willing to change. But I wish you would forgive me too. I think it’s best if we stay together. We’re better together than separate, don’t you agree?” My feet dangle off the bed and I feel this wave of relief wash over me. She feels the same way then.

“I feel the same exact way, Mack. Just one slight difference.” I smile. Maybe she’ll understand where I’m coming from with this.

I hear her breath hitch. “What is it?”

I attempt to stifle a laugh, but it doesn’t work. I explode with laughter and McKayla can only nervously giggle with me. “Don’t ever change for me. Don’t change for anyone. You’re better the way you are.” Now, she laughs with me.

“Well, in that case, I won’t differ with that thought.”

We explain our feelings about the situation and how we could’ve changed it around to avoid an event like this. To have a relationship strong, we need to realize that our fights make us stronger as individuals and together. I tell her, “I won’t leave you for something silly like that again.”

“I won’t, either, Ky. Oh my goodness, I have to get ready for training!” McKayla squeals.

“Same! I’m so late!” I whip my head around my bedroom and look at the clock. “Ugh, I’m already ten minutes late.”

McKayla laughs and says, “Ok, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Promise?”

Now, Anastasia’s lost emotionally. She loves Viktoria, that she knows for sure. But the fact that she might not recover shocks her. Viktoria is Russia’s shining star, with the exception of Aliya Mustafina. And Anastasia still doesn’t know if she and Viktoria are dating or anything like that. Feelings change over time and Anastasia understands that. But her feelings haven’t changed. She wants to confront Viktoria about it; she doesn’t know how. Plus, with Viktoria’s injury, it won’t be easy to bring the topic up.

Anastasia goes through the motions of getting her roommate and room key and finding her dorm room. “Oh, Nastaska!” Anastasia exclaims as she opens the door. “It is awfully lovely to see you again as my roommate.” Anastasia walks in with her suitcase weighing down her body.

“Of course, we’re roommates, Nastya. So, Vika’s injured. Do you think she’ll get better?” Anastasia asks as she helps Anastasia lift her suitcase.

“She has to,” Anastasia says forcefully, as if there is no other way for anything to happen. Anastasia shrugs and goes off to unpack her own things.

When Anastasia goes to the cafeteria to eat dinner, Viktoria’s not there. She doesn’t wish to be nosy, so instead of questioning, Anastasia takes a seat next to Maria, Tatiana, and Aliya, where she is sure to get all the information. She feels the warmth from camaraderie from her teammates. They aren’t here to tear her down like catty beasts. They just want the best for her and her gymnastics career. A smile blossoms on her pale face and she leans her head closer to her plate to hide her reddening face.

Aliya takes a big gulp of her peas and slips one headphone in her ear. Her cell phone called an iPhone, has been all the rage in Krugloye Ozero. “Well, what song should I listen to?” She tilts her phone’s screen over to Tatiana. “Choose one for me, if you will, my lovely Tanya.” Tatiana raises her eyebrows and smirks, but she clicks a song and Aliya starts to bob her head to the beat. “Good choice.”

Anastasia can’t take this breathless silence; no one is willing to talk about Viktoria and her chances for her first World Championships. She tries her best to hold her objections in, but they come tumbling out just like her first tumbling pass on floor exercise. “What happened to Viktoria? Can someone tell me anything about her?”

Tatiana rolls her eyes and elbows Maria. “I knew this was coming. She’s too upset and emotionally attached to her girlfriend.” Maria tosses her red hair over her shoulder and snickers along with Tatiana. Aliya snaps in their faces to get them to shut up. Anastasia’s heart is pounding and she begins to wonder if they are catty beasts.

“Something with her ankle,” Aliya mutters. “Ever since Voronin, it’s been bothering her. She thinks she can pull through for the Russian National Championships, but it won’t be easy. Vika will have to take a very long break after competing at such a high level. It’s going to be hard for her. It’s going to be hard for everyone to adjust.”

Anastasia sighs and bites her lip to keep a tear from sliding down her cheek. “So there’s no other information, Alka?”

Aliya lays her hand on Anastasia’s shoulder. “Oh, Nastya, dushka. You’ll be the first person I’ll tell about Vika and her condition.”

Instead of discussing Viktoria Komova further, the girls move on to all the fun they had over the winter break. Aliya spent her time with her cousins sledding down the various areas of Moscow while simultaneously entertaining her friends with hot chocolate, hot snowmen, and lovely museums. Maria played with her hair and attempted to learn how to play the guitar three times in one week. Tatiana tried to stay in shape, but rather, ate a whole box of chocolates in approximately three hours and gave up on her goal. Anastasia, unlike the others, scrolled through pictures of Viktoria on her phone, wondering if she was thinking about her too. And she worked out in the gym every day.

But those winter days are over and Anastasia’s in the cold, harsh reality of the hellhole known as Krugloye Ozero. Without her best friend, she’s lost and confused. Everything’s going wrong in an instant. Tears are welling up in her eyes and Anastasia clenches her fists under the table. She vows not to cry in front of Aliya, Tatiana, and Maria, her older, star gymnastics peers. Aliya won’t taunt her; she’d never do that to anyone unless she was teasing and it was obvious. But Tatiana and Maria would go all out.

They girls stand up to leave shortly after their conversation about Viktoria. Anastasia’s plate is still mostly full and she hasn’t really moved much. “Nastya, are you going to Russian Nationals?” Aliya asks as Maria and Tatiana leave the table in a fit of laughter.

“No. Coach wants me to focus on the City of Jesolo Trophy, since that’s an international competition and is very important. I need to keep my ranking at the top,” Anastasia says, still not looking at Aliya and focusing on the plate instead.

Aliya nods before realizing Anastasia isn’t watching her. “I see.” She pauses momentarily before continuing, “Well, good night. See you tomorrow for training.” Anastasia nods and she lifts her head to watch Aliya leave. And the first tear drips down her cheek. She throws away what’s left of her food and runs out to her dorm room. Anastasia Sidorova isn’t back yet, so Anastasia locks herself in the bathroom, but not without taking a pillow first. She sits on the toilet seat and cries until there’s no more tears left.

Every single pain falls from her hazel eyes and onto the cloth of the pillow. She bites her lip to keep herself from screaming at the top of her lungs. Anastasia has lost her best friend, her love. Nothing can replace that. She’s not sure if Viktoria is her true love, her soulmate for the ages. But Anastasia does know that Viktoria Komova is her best friend and she doesn’t want her to leave Krugloye Ozero and have her face being a senior gymnast all by herself.

After about an hour, Anastasia takes one look in the mirror and her eyes are red, puffy, and swollen. She splashes her face with cold water and attempts to put some makeup on her eyes to conceal her crying. She steps out of the bathroom and sees Anastasia attempting some linear algebra problems. Anastasia doesn’t say anything, for fear of her voice cracking and letting Anastasia know that she’s been crying.

“Oh, hey, Nastya. Nice to see you again. How was your dinner?” Anastasia cocks her head and Anastasia walks over to her bed with the soggy pillow.

“It was fine.”

Anastasia immediately backtracks, “Oh ok, sorry for asking then. But I got a little something for you that I think you might really like and if you’re going to be like this the whole night, you’re not getting it from me. Your physical strength will not match my current mental superiority.” Anastasia rolls her hazel eyes and flops on her bed. “Now are you promise that you’re going to return to the real Nastya I know?”

“I promise.”

“Say it like you mean it!” Anastasia throws a pillow at her face. The fabric wipes away one of Anastasia’s last tears.

“I freaking mean it, Nastaska! I promise to be the good, saint-like, little girl you’ve known for however many years,” Anastasia sighs. “Now, if you could just give me whatever you’ve been hiding, I’d appreciate it.”

It’s Anastasia Sidorova’s turn to roll her eyes now. “That totally did not just sound like Nastya Grishina, but whatever. Ok, drumroll please!” Anastasia proceeds to bang her hands on the wooden nightstand. Anastasia Grishina stares at her until she stops. “Vika called you via my cell phone, thinking you’d be with me. That obviously was not the case, but she wants you to call her back eventually. Not today, but soon.”

Anastasia’s heart flutters in her chest. She had been thinking about Viktoria for all of winter break and finally she has heard back. “Thanks.” She’s speechless and that is the only word that tumbles out of her mouth; the only word that makes it through the mess of her brain. All she can think about is Viktoria Komova and a sense of urgency washes over her.

“You’re welcome.” Anastasia has her face curled up in a smirk. She pretends to fiddle with her blankets until Anastasia speaks again.

“Do... do you think I could call Vika now?”

Anastasia shakes her head and says, “No, she said she would be asleep by now, so don’t even bother. Call her later, Nastya. What’s the rush?” Anastasia doesn’t want Viktoria to fall in love with anyone else, that’s why. But she holds her complaints in. If Viktoria didn’t want her to call this late, Anastasia wouldn’t.

Anastasia has told no one about her feelings toward Viktoria. No one knows the love she harbors inside for her best friend. She breathes in and out. She’s always suspected Aliya or Maria of liking Viktoria and she’s been skeptical of anything they do together ever since. Unless Aliya and Maria decide to date each other, which would be too weird for Anastasia to fathom. She prefers hearing about all the male-female gossip in Krugloye Ozero.

Anastasia, instead of channeling all her energy on thinking about Viktoria, uses her mental power on another subject. She focuses on her consistency; Anastasia can pull out all the hard moves on a good day. Yet not every day is a good day. It’s usually far from it. So she spends all her time training the same moves over and over again on various apparatuses. Her coach wants her to work hard so she can go to the Olympics next year. If she keeps up her hard work, she may go to the London Test Event. Anastasia’s goal is that, at the very least. But she won’t give up so soon.

Russian National Championships are coming up, but she won’t participate in them. Anastasia is going to be a dominant force at the Jesolo trophy. No way will she have time to concentrate on both this time around. Her coach won’t even consider the idea of the two competitions together just yet.

So Anastasia, instead of getting excited with everyone, pounds away at her routines to make them sharp enough for international competition. It’s expected of her to win the all-around at Jesolo, just like last year. Russia needs to dominate for the rest of the quad and if Anastasia wants a spot on the Olympic team, she needs to prove herself to everyone.

She spends every spare second at the gym. Anastasia doesn’t want any regrets about this year. Calling Viktoria gets put off to the side every single night. Not that Anastasia desires it to be that way. She wants to hear Viktoria’s sweet, soothing voice through the phone and have her at Krugloye Ozero with her presence lighting up the room.

But one particularly snowy night, the gym closes early in case the power goes out and gymnasts are training. Anastasia has nothing to do until she has to go to sleep. Plus, her roommate has been bothering her for the past few weeks about calling Viktoria. “It isn’t any of Anastasia Sidorova’s business anyway,” Anastasia thinks to herself as she walks to the pay phone. Next year, for her sixteenth birthday, the Grishin’s are getting her a cell phone of her very own.

Anastasia dials the number slowly and carefully. She only has one chance to reconcile with Viktoria. Viktoria and Anastasia split awkwardly by the end of last year. But Anastasia doesn’t want Viktoria to think that she’s done with her feelings. She’s not. They’re still running through her body like a river.

“Hello?” Viktoria’s voice comes through the phone on the fourth ring. Anastasia inhales sharply.  After so long, Viktoria’s back. “Hello? Who is this? Caller ID says it’s Krugloye Ozero, which doesn’t help. Hello?”

Anastasia takes another deep breath before answering quickly, “It’s me. I mean, uh, it’s Nastya. Anastasia Grishina.” It’s so cold in the hallway, but Anastasia peels off her zippered sweatshirt. The nervousness has already caught up with her perspiratory glands.

“Nastya!” Viktoria squeals. Anastasia can imagine Viktoria sitting on a bed with her cell phone to hear ear, watching a Russian soap opera and eating salad or soup. She realizes that’s she’s never visited Viktoria in Voronezh. Lots of the girls visit each other during the holiday breaks. Anastasia’s never done that before. Aliya and Maria always talk about their adventures in Moscow. No matter how hard she tries, Anastasia never sees them out and about. “How are you?”

Anastasia’s caught off-guard by the first question. “Um - I’m doing well, I guess. What about you?” She sweeps her bangs off her forehead with her left hand. They fall back down when she moves her hand away.

“Doing great, thanks. There’s a huge elephant in the room right now and I’m going to go out and say it. We need to talk.”

“That’s why I’m on the phone,” Anastasia says, annoyed.

“Yeah, I think I knew that already. Look, I still like you and I think you still like me. There’s been some rules banning junior gymnasts from dating, but who cares? I’m willing to take a risk for you. I really want to date you, assuming you want to date me. Do you want to try?” Anastasia can hardly breathe as Viktoria’s words come tumbling out of her mouth. Viktoria still cares about her. Anastasia’s heart doesn’t slow down no matter how many breaths she takes to calm herself down. She wants to scream, hug, and kiss Viktoria all at once. And she can do neither of those things.

A moment of silence passes between them before Anastasia can gather a response in her brain. “Yes, yes, of course. I’ll do anything to be with you. But how do we keep this a secret? If you’re on the World Championships team, all eyes will be on you.”

Viktoria has to think about this carefully. Anastasia knows that Viktoria’s emotions have honestly prevented her from planning the future out. “We’ll have to keep it on the down low, then. It’ll have to be private. I mean, you’re a junior, so you can’t date anyway. But it doesn’t seem like I’ll be at Krugloye Ozero in a while...”

“You’ll be competing in the Russian National Championships though!”

“I will,” Viktoria sighs. “I’ll need to take a long break afterwards though. This injury seems to be staying with me for a while. There’s no way I can be injured and still work out at Krugloye Ozero. I’ll be back eventually, but it’ll take time. I need to get some sleep and rest my leg. I’ll talk to you later, Nastya.”

“Good night,” Anastasia says. The dial tone rings through her ears and she hangs up the pay phone. Within a few minutes, her life has completely changed. She thought Viktoria and her never had a chance of developing a relationship more than friends. Now, they are.

Anastasia walks to her dorm room with her heart soaring. She’s going to make this work, no matter what.

____________________________________________________________

Time has passed in Krugloye Ozero. Anastasia’s on the plane to Jesolo with some of her wonderful teammates. They’re gossiping about who knows what, but Anastasia doesn’t mind that much.

In the meantime, Anastasia enjoyed the company of Viktoria Komova. She had won the team final with her district, and even with an injury, scored well on uneven bars with third place and balance beam in fourth. It wasn’t what Viktoria wanted, but better than nothing. She was still fighting. Viktoria had attended a few other competitions, but now she was getting her injury taken care of in Munich and in Voronezh. “Viktoria is going to be ok,” Anastasia reminds herself. “Worry about yourself and the competition coming up.”

“Did you say something?” Anastasia Sidorova asks Anastasia. If anybody Anastasia has to watch out for, it’ll be her own roommate. Anastasia bites her lip and shakes her head. She needs to stop saying her thoughts out loud, or soon she’ll end up compromising the whole relationship she has with Viktoria. “Oh ok, sorry to disturb you then. I just thought you said something about Vika.”

“No,” Anastasia says, a little too loudly. Everyone’s heads turn toward her. “I didn’t say anything about Vika.” Anastasia Sidorova nods and returns to her in-flight magazine. Anastasia would be spending lots of time with her Krugloye Ozero roommate. They’d be rooming together in Jesolo and are considered the dominant forces in this junior Russian team traveling to Italy. Besides, two Anastasias are always better than one.

The other members of the junior Jesolo team are Evgenia Shelgunova, Anna Rodionova, Yulia Chemareva, and Kristina Sidorova, who is in no way related to Anastasia Sidorova. They’re all little pixies, mainly blonde, who look child-like and breakable. But they’re going to prove that they’re strong, fierce, and competitive. They will not break even though they appear that way. Anastasia smiles to herself. If she performs well, an Olympic spot will be in her favor.

The plane ride takes a few hours and Anastasia’s bored out of her mind. Anastasia Sidorova won’t talk until she finishes the Sudoku puzzle located on the back page of the in-flight magazine. Evgenia and Anna giggle way too much for Anastasia to have a coherent conversation with them. And Kristina and Yulia are pleasant, but Anastasia doesn’t really share a common ground with them except for gymnastics. So she stays quiet.

Her mind rewinds to all the fun times she’s had with Viktoria at various competitions. Their competitions haven’t had much overlap. She spends a few minutes thinking about all the moments before mentally slapping herself. Why does she keep thinking about Viktoria in the first place? It probably isn’t healthy.

They arrive in Italy around eleven o’clock at night, leaving no time to explore before training in the gym. Anastasia would’ve liked to see the scenery, but she doesn’t complain. She’s finally here and ready to defend her title in the all-around. The Americans are going to go down. Even that Kyla Ross, who got second to Anastasia last year.

The drive to the hotel rooms is uneventful. Evgenia and Anna sing all the latest Russian pop song hits. Anastasia attempts to tune out their off-key singing with her CD player, but it’s relatively uneffective. Anastasia Sidorova listens to an audiobook on her music player, Kristina falls asleep, and Yulia stretches in the back of the van.

They arrive at the hotel and Anastasia and Anastasia walk up to their room in a daze. “So, do you want the shower first?” Anastasia Sidorova asks Anastasia, her blonde right eyebrow raised while Anastasia fiddles with the room key.

“If you don’t mind, I would,” Anastasia says, pulling on the metal door handle and swinging the door open. “Home sweet home.”

“Yeah right,” Anastasia snorts back, her steps following behind Anastasia Grishina. “A random hotel that the Russian government got for us for a week is most certainly not home, Nastya.” She begins to unpack her leotards one by one.

Anastasia falls on her queen-sized bed. “I was kidding. There’s no way I’d call this cigarette-smell infused room my home.”

“You call Krugloye Ozero home though.”

Anastasia glares at her friend. “Funny, Nastaska. Very, very funny. Ok, I’m going to take a shower.” She puts her weight on her elbows and lifts herself up off the bed. She rummages through her messy suitcase for something suitable to wear at night. Anastasia Sidorova snorts while she laughs. Anastasia closes the bathroom door, hoping for some relief in the warm water.

Training the next day is challenging. The girls are all jet-lagged and tired. All the coaches yell at their proteges. It’s never-ending; screaming, crying, and getting back up to their feet. Anastasia just wants to crawl back into bed and pretend the training session never happened. None of the routines look polished and elegant. “You’ll be disappointing Russia when you come back,” all the coaches scream. That is the last thing Anastasia wants to do.

For days, the girls train until they bleed. By the end of each training session, Anastasia feels like she’s going to go deaf. She doesn’t fight too often with her coach, but some of the others are particularly vicious.

Podium training comes and goes. Only Anastasia makes through all her routines without falling. The others fall off the apparatus, hard. The American coaches are relatively calm and so are the Italians. But the Russian coaches are screaming and yelling, making each of the girls cry at least three times within two hours. The night before the competition, the girls go to sleep very early, except for Anastasia.

“Vika? Why are you calling me so late? It’s like, three AM back home,” Anastasia whispers through the phone.

“I wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow. Not like you need it,” Viktoria replies, her voice as soft as a blanket.

In the darkness, no one can see Anastasia’s face burn bright red. She fans herself with her left hand, holding the cream-colored phone in her right. Viktoria makes her heart soar, no doubt about it. She wants to find Viktoria and kiss her until the sun rises. But that isn’t possible in this imperfect world.

She stutters, “Well, thanks. I’m going to need all the luck I can get.”

“Don’t say that! You’re going to do fine. Believe in yourself like I believe in you. With that self-confidence, you won’t lose,” Viktoria says loudly. “Oh, I think I woke up someone with my conversation. I’ll have to talk to you later. Good night!”

“Good night,” Anastasia says right before Viktoria hangs up.

Anastasia can barely sleep that night. She tosses and turns on the mattress with her mind running a marathon. She thinks about Viktoria and everything she encompasses. Anastasia thinks about the Grishin’s back in Moscow and how happy they’ll be if Anastasia defends her gold medal. If not for Russia and her Olympic dreams, she has to win for her family no matter what. They’ve supported her all this time. She can’t turn back on all the sacrifices they’ve made for her now.

Waking up the next morning is not easy. Anastasia Sidorova rubs her brown eyes and asks, “Nastya? Did you stay awake the whole night or something?” She stands up and walks over to Anastasia’s bed. “Oh my goodness. Look at those bags under your eyes! Good luck trying to explain that to Sergey.”

Anastasia waves away the other Anastasia with her hand. “Don’t worry about my coach. He won’t care and he’ll think it’s because I’ve been working so hard in the gym. Which I have been, obviously. And no, I haven’t been up all night.”

“Most of it, then?”

“Just go, Nastaska,” Anastasia groans.

Anastasia hears the faucet run in the bathroom. “You know, you’re going to have to wake up if you want to win the competition again. I know that’s what you want. You want to be an Olympic champion. There’s no way you can do that without getting up for the City of Jesolo Trophy though.” Anastasia rolls her eyes and pushes herself out of the cozy comforter. She painstakingly walks over to the bathroom sink. It feels like she’s hungover, kind of like last year at the European Championships. “Hey, you’re awake! That’s great.”

“Can you stop being peppy for five seconds?” Anastasia asks, annoyed at her roommate and the amount of toothpaste she squirted out of the container.

Approximately six seconds later, Anastasia Sidorova says, “I’ll go down to breakfast first and tell them you’ll be down momentarily.”

“I didn’t mean five seconds literally.”

At the competition, Anastasia makes a note to give death glares to all her competitors before greeting them and engaging in conversation. She tries to talk to all the Americans before rotations begin, but all of them look too similar and are too energetic for Anastasia to tell apart. Except for Kyla Ross, looking lovely as ever. They make small talk, but Kyla’s too socially awkward and Anastasia has a limited vocabulary. Eventually, they part ways and Anastasia vows in her heart to win.

Anastasia tries her best to hit all her routines like she does in practice. But nothing, save her uneven bars, comes out like she planned.

Her DTY is relatively solid, but it’s no match for almost perfect execution scores by the Americans on theirs. And one of the members has an Amanar too, leaving Anastasia far behind the pack. None of the Russians even have an Amanar, plus, two of them only have FTYs. And an even lower difficulty vault to boot. She knows the coaches are viewing this as practice, but Anastasia is determined to win the team final and the all-around from the beginning. Now, it seems like there’s no chance for the team.

Uneven bars doesn’t go as planned for the Russians either. Anastasia scores highest in the whole competition with a solid 15.1 score. She’s so happy, she could scream and have it be heard around the world. Yet all the other Russian scores are much lower, especially Evgenia’s with it being only in the 10-11 range. There’s no hope left for their team to win, though it looks like they might edge out Italy.

Balance beam is pretty decent, though Anastasia’s routine is riddled with balance checks. When she comes off the apparatus, her coach is speechless. Anastasia usually hits so clean and perfect. Not today.

Anastasia’s endurance level is low and her floor exercise somewhat suffers. It’s decent; certainly not what she desires. The others are the same with their routines. By the end of the competition, Anastasia’s sore, tired, and done with the competition. Kyla has beaten her for first place and Anastasia cries and cries into her team Russia warmup jacket. The hurt of losing first stings even more when she finds out she’s gotten fifth place, behind four Americans. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone. The rest of the girls sulk along with her. Anastasia Sidorova placed next highest in sixth, Kristina Sidorova in ninth, Evgenia Shelgunova in a dismal fifteenth, Anna Rodionova in an even worse sixteenth, and Yulia Chemareva places last in the whole competition.

No one can console the girls. Kyla gives Anastasia her email address with a note saying saying, “You did great today! If you ever want to keep a regular correspondence, here’s my email address. Hope to see you at future competitions. Kyla.” Anastasia tucks the note into her tear-stained jacket. The coaches all want to say, “I told you so. We should’ve practiced more.” And Anastasia knows it.

Returning to the hotel is dismal. The girls feel defeated and solemn. There’s no celebration going on. Viktoria calls, but Anastasia doesn’t know what to say. There isn’t anything to say. She’s gone and disappointed everyone. How can she get an Olympic spot now? She couldn’t lead the team to a victory well-deserved of Krugloye Ozero team members. Instead, the less-artistic, more peppy and annoying, American gymnasts took the gold.

Returning back to Krugloye Ozero doesn’t help Anastasia’s self-esteem. Everyone asks her what happened at the competition and why they did so terribly that none of them could even get an all-around medal. She can only answer with, “I’m sorry we did so badly. We will do better the next time.” Then, Anastasia has to look away before tears fall from her eyes.

Anastasia talks with Viktoria on a regular basis now. Viktoria gives Anastasia updates on her injury and various dates on when she should be up and ok again. Anastasia tells Viktoria all about changes at Krugloye Ozero and all the gossip. Maria’s been sneaking around with a boy, for example, but no one knows who just yet. It always makes Viktoria laugh, which gives Anastasia hope in her heart. Maybe they’ll be together for the Olympics after all.

“So, has Masha really been sneaking around with a guy? I’ll have to call her about it later, for sure,” Viktoria giggles.

“She has! We can all see her shadow drawn by the lamplights outside the dorms. It’s a guy with real muscles, definitely,” Anastasia whispers in the phone, hoping no one will hear her.

Viktoria clicks her tongue and says, “Well, all the guys have muscles, Nastya!” Anastasia hears noises coming from the phone that sound like Vera Kolesnikova, Viktoria’s mother who happened to be a gymnastics star herself and had once trained at Krugloye Ozero. “I’ve got to go. I have physical therapy until dinnertime.” Viktoria sighs. “I’ll talk to you later then?”

“Of course.”

“It really is an imperfect world,” Anastasia mutters to herself when Viktoria hangs up.

______________________________________________________

Anastasia sighs and sits down on the blue mat. It’s been a long training session with her coach. The summer heat comes down on Anastasia from the windows in the gym. Summer break has just ended and all the girls are back for training. The World Championships team will be decided soon and Anastasia’s not eligible for trying out for it. Otherwise, she would in a heartbeat.

More importantly, today is the day Viktoria Komova is coming back from her injury. She’ll be at Krugloye Ozero, working and training so she can make the World Championships team. Anastasia can’t wait. She hasn’t seen Viktoria ever since the end of last year. It’s been more than six months and Anastasia can’t handle it.

There’ll be one person missing on the team no matter what, however. Aliya Mustafina, a Russian gymnastics star and last year’s all-around world champion, is injured; she tore her ACL at the European Championships this year. Everyone misses her strength and encouragement. With this injury, it’ll be hard for her to come back for the Olympics. But if anyone can do it, it’s Aliya Mustafina.

Soon, the team for the World Championships will be announced and Anastasia wants to be there for all the moments the team will have. The standards are high for Russia considering they won last year’s team final competition. And Russia has loads of gymnasts to choose from this time around. Anastasia’s excited to see how it all plays out. She’s got her non-existent money on a few of the gymnasts, with the biggest bet on her love. How could she not?

Anastasia hits another perfect handstand on the uneven bars when she hears a bunch of girls screaming and the sound of chalk-covered feet hitting the floor. She transitions to the low bar and falls off. Her coach smiles and gestures with his thumb to the door of the gym. Anastasia nods without a word and looks over to the gym. The vision of someone she sees makes her let out a primal scream and she runs to the door faster than she’s ever run before.

“Vika!” Anastasia yells, pushing past all the younger girls to see her girlfriend. Viktoria lets go of a girl who had hugged her first. Viktoria catches Anastasia running and pulls her into a hug; she sweeps her off her feet and spins around a few times before putting Anastasia back on the ground. Anastasia wipes a tear from her eye when she finally takes in Viktoria’s angelic image; she’s here. She is finally here.

Viktoria smiles the first time she really, truly looks into Anastasia’s eyes. “Oh, Nastya.” Viktoria’s rendered speechless and so is Anastasia. They grin and their eyes sparkle in unison, but Anastasia steps away a moment later. They can’t have anyone suspect anything. So Viktoria embraces Aliya in a similar fashion, which makes Anastasia green with envy. Literally. She has the urge to puke. Maria even has the nerve to give Viktoria a peck on the cheek.

The coaches clap and speak, slowly luring the girls away from Viktoria one by one until Anastasia and Viktoria are the only ones left. Anastasia can’t take her eyes off Viktoria; she’s permanently glued to her. Viktoria mutters, “Meet me by the lamp lights after dinner tonight, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Like Masha and her various boys?” Anastasia teases.

Viktoria rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “Good one. Your coach is right behind you. We’ll talk later?”

Viktoria’s already halfway out the door before Anastasia says, “Yes, of course.” Sergey Zelikson pulls Anastasia back into the training session, but she can barely focus. She falls off all the apparatuses more than once on each skill. Her coach ends up frustrated and Anastasia has tears forming in her eyes. He lets her leave a few minutes early in hopes tomorrow will be a better day for hitting routines. Yet Anastasia knows that will not be the case.

That night, under the soft light of the lamps, Anastasia and Viktoria talk about all they can fit in one hour. Everything comes up, like gossip about Krugloye Ozero, how each other’s families are doing, and favorite winter comfort foods, that, of course, the girls have to sneak so the coaches don’t notice. But they don’t discuss one thing, which is Viktoria’s injury. Anastasia thinks Viktoria doesn’t want to talk about it. She doesn’t dare bring it up until Viktoria does.

“My injury doesn’t hurt as much, which is nice,” Viktoria says after a lull in the conversation finally arises. Anastasia’s eyebrows shoot up immediately. She didn’t think Viktoria would be talking about the one thing that ruined her life this year.

The silence creeps in their bones and both of them can’t say a word until Anastasia clears her throat and asks, “Do you think you will recover by the time the team is announced?” Light is fading fast from the sky and Krugloye Ozero enforced curfew is coming soon. Anastasia wishes the night could last forever.

Viktoria shrugs and crosses her arms over her chest as a light breeze blows through. “I’d like to hope so. I mean, I should be in pretty good shape by that time. But I don’t know if I’ll be fully recovered by then. I don’t know if I’ll be chosen, basically. I’m not exactly the most reliable gymnast right now.”

“I’d take you,” Anastasia announces before she can even think of something more sympathetic or reasonable.

Viktoria smiles at this. “Well, you’re biased.”

And with that, they kiss until the light fades from the sky and into their hearts. Darkness takes over the world around them, but they are filled with light and love. Nothing can stop what they have.

For days, every time Anastasia thinks about Viktoria, she remembers the night they shared together under the street lamps. Everything is wonderful now. Anastasia’s difficulty scores are increasing day by day. Viktoria’s working her way back up to what she used to be, and then some. Everyone is watching Viktoria’s work and how quickly and smoothly her transition is from injured to not injured. Anastasia would call it determination and the drive to succeed and win. Viktoria would say it’s more of love and passion.

The weeks go by and no announcement has been made on who will be going. The whole gym is fluttering with gossip. “I heard she’s going.” “No way, she can barely finish her DTY without falling face first!” “Well, talk to the head coach then.”

One day, Alexandrov, Mustafina’s coach and the head coach at Krugloye Ozero, makes all the senior girls line up and the junior girls get to watch from the floor mats for the first time ever. “This is the World Championships team representing Russia. Ksenia Afanasyeva, Yulia Belokobylskaya, Anna Dementyeva, Viktoria Komova, Maria Paseka, and Tatiana Nabieva, with the alternate as Yulia Inshina!” Anastasia politely claps for every girl, but when she hears Viktoria’s name, she screams at the top of her lungs.

All the senior gymnasts begin to embrace each other and wipe tears off of every face. Anastasia wants to be a part of something so happy and amazing. She resists the urge to hug her girlfriend and the others. It isn’t her place. Anastasia knows Viktoria will always keep her in her heart and that’s what really matters in the end. But Viktoria breaks the mold and comes over to Anastasia with tears dripping down her face and a smile that glows.

“Nastya!” Viktoria yells as she wraps her arms around Anastasia’s thin torso. “I made it,” she whispers in her ear. Anastasia is giddy with delight and when they finally pull away, Anastasia desires to kiss her, to kiss and put happiness into her soul.

But that would mean giving away everything they’ve worked for.

______________________________________________________

Anastasia grabs her water bottle and exits the gym. It’s been a hard training session, but today is the Tokyo World Championships all-around. Earlier, the team final had occurred and the Russians took second behind the Americans. With huge difficulty scores and sky-high Amanars, it was foreseen as a Russian loss. The whole gym was relatively happy with the second place medal though. Without a star like Aliya Mustafina and Viktoria Komova injured, it wasn’t the best team to cobble together. Not to mention that Maria Paseka had injured herself and Yulia Inshina, the chosen alternate, traveled and competed in Tokyo instead.

It had been an interesting year for the Russian gymnasts, to say the least. Now is the all-around final and Anastasia’s ready to lose her voice tonight to support Viktoria. She takes a seat in between Ekaterina Baturina and Evgenia Shelgunova, two girls younger than her whom next year will take the reigns as the older junior girls. “Did Nastaska turn to the correct channel?” Anastasia asks Ekaterina.

“I have no idea,” Ekaterina responds. She calls out, “Hey, Nastaska! Did you change the channel?”

“Yes, Katya, I have everything under control,” Anastasia Sidorova says politely. The Anastasias would most certainly be fighting against each other next year for prime Olympic spots. It’d make for an awkward roommate situation.

The music played on the television, signaling the start of the competition. Gymnasts were warming up on their apparatuses. “They’re starting!” Ekaterina screams at the top of her lungs. The others join her in hollering. The girls spot Viktoria and cheer her on. When they see Ksenia Afanasyeva, the same emotion appears on all the girls’ faces. It’s going to be a good meet, Anastasia can feel it.

The rotations begin and are completed one by one. Ksenia doesn’t seem like she’ll place near the medals, which is extremely unfortunate. But Viktoria looks in prime contention for a gold medal between Jordyn Wieber, an American, and Yao Jinnan from China.  If she can stay above them, all will be well. She’ll win. It won’t be easy though. Viktoria will have to pull out all the moves perfectly and then hope for a drastic change in someone’s routines.

It looks like Viktoria can win. Anastasia holds her breath as the scores appear one by one on the television. Then screams, crying, and someone throws the remote. Anastasia rubs her eyes and pinches the skin under her arm. The podium doesn’t change though. Viktoria’s second to Jordyn Wieber.

Anastasia doesn’t cry. She instead leaves the room and lies down on her bed. Incoherent thoughts are running through her mind. But one thought sticks out from the rest: how could Viktoria lose? She’s the best in the world.

She hits her pillow with her fist multiple times and lets out a scream that she never knew she had before. Viktoria did win a medal and that’s all well and good. Anastasia knows in her heart that a second place won’t be enough. It’s first or nothing at all. Not to mention the hurt that came with Ksenia not making the podium. Anastasia’s frustrated; Viktoria must have been underscored or Jordyn was overscored. There’s no way the best in the world could have lost.

An hour later, Anastasia finally gets up from her bed, her muscles aching and sore from training. The medal ceremony is going to start. She walks to the room with the television. “You came back just in time!” Viktoria Kuzmina shouts, pointing to the television with her index finger. “They’re about to give out the medals. I bet Vika’s is the prettiest.” Anastasia smiles just because Viktoria Kuzmina is so innocent and cute. The gold medal is obviously the most beautiful.

The girls clap for Yao Jinnan to show their sportsmanship. And, Anastasia has to admit, she’s proud of the little firecracker from China. She could’ve won the whole competition hadn’t she not fallen off the beam.

Viktoria appears on the screen with a smile on her face, but the girls can all tell that her face is masked. She couldn’t be that happy with her performance. So Anastasia relegates herself to just cheering on Viktoria as always. She smiles and cheers because Viktoria represents the Russian Federation. Russia is great, powerful, wonderful, and has exceptional gymnasts. Anastasia wouldn’t want to be part of the United States of America even if she had the option. They’re probably all catty, annoying, and they don’t have one training center they all live in. How do they even build camaraderie?

The girls watch the television until the program ends with Jordyn Wieber smiling and biting her medal. The channel changes to a news broadcast and Anastasia Sidorova turns off the television with the click of a button. “Well, that was exciting,” she says quietly that barely anyone even hears her.

Anastasia is the first one to leave with a few coins and a desire to call her love. But she knows Viktoria won’t be anywhere near her new iPhone anytime soon. So she walks around the outside of Krugloye Ozero without anyone finding her. The air is chilly; Russian winter will come upon the gym quickly and quietly without notice. She wraps her arms around her body in hopes it’ll warm her up. After she thinks it’s been too long and the sun fades away from the sky, Anastasia heads back inside. No one’s been missing her, clearly. Gymnasts rush to the cafeteria for dinner or talk amongst themselves in the hallways of the dorms.

No one will notice if she sneaks away to call Viktoria. Anastasia doesn’t think for a moment about if anyone asks her what she’s doing on the phone. She can say she’s talking to Yulia Belokobylskaya, Anna Dementyeva, and Yulia Inshina or something like that. She dials Viktoria’s number that she’s memorized for the longest time. The phone rings once and then twice and Anastasia doubts if Viktoria will even pick up.

“Hello?”

“Vika, it’s me. Nastya,” Anastasia whispers. Then she giggles. “Why are we even whispering? No one will care.”

Anastasia knows Viktoria’s smiling at that all the way back in Japan. “Yeah, that’s true.” Silence forms between them until Viktoria keeps talking. “I made a fool of Russia today. I just couldn’t perform at my best and my injury is no freaking excuse.” Viktoria’s voice breaks like an adolescent boy going through puberty. “I’m a disgrace to Russian gymnastics.”

“You did not disgrace Russian gymnastics!” Anastasia blurts out while at the same time fixing her bangs that block her eyes. “You got the silver medal! That’s more than almost anyone can say here. Second-best has to be better than dead last, right?”

Viktoria sniffles, “I guess, but that doesn’t change anything, really. I thought - everyone did - that I could possibly win. I have been working my whole life to be the best all-around gymnast in the world. And I couldn’t do it.” She begins openly sobbing and Anastasia can’t help it; she cries along with her. “I couldn’t even make my country proud of me.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Viktoria doesn’t say anything back for a long time. The both of them try to compose themselves and not be weak for each other. Eventually, a few minutes pass and Viktoria says, “I love you, Nastya. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Anastasia’s rendered speechless and can barely breathe. Her heart races and it’s like she’s back at a major competition all over again; she’s filled with nervousness, anxiety, and hope that everything will be alright on the other side. She won’t be forsaken. “I - I love you too, Vika. It’s my honor to help you out. You’re a dear, dear friend of mine. Good luck at your event finals. I’m sure you will do well.”

“You should probably go eat dinner. It is dinner time at Krugloye Ozero, yes?” Viktoria asks, still sniffling a little bit.

“It is,” Anastasia sighs. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good night.”

“Good night and good luck.” Anastasia won’t be the first to hang up. When the phone line buzzes, signaling the end of the call, Anastasia finally lifts the phone up off her ear and back onto its rack. She puts her hands out on the wall in front of her and takes deep breaths. Viktoria told her that she loved her. After a moment, she pushes herself off the wall and squeals with delight, running all the way to the cafeteria.

Event finals begin and it seems like Russia might have a chance of being the best in the world on some of the events. The girls all gather in Anastasia and Anastasia’s dorm room with the television on and excited with the energy of all the junior gymnasts. Anastasia Grishina is the first to notice the television switching from a kids show to the World Championships in artistic gymnastics. “Hey, it’s on!”

Vault finals doesn’t have any main Russian contenders, so the girls don’t really cheer for anyone. But McKayla Maroney makes a lasting impression with her Amanar. “Look how high she goes up!” “It’s like she flies, or something.”

Uneven bars finals is next and Viktoria Komova and Tatiana Nabieva will be representing the Russian Federation. Each time one of them appears on the screen, the room goes up in screams of “Vika!” or “Tanya!” Anastasia concentrates on her thoughts and tries to telepathically send a message to Viktoria. “You can do it,” she thinks. “I love you and whatever happens, I still love you and I am proud of you. Go get your deserved gold medal.” When she finishes her thought, Viktoria shows up on the screen staring at the apparatus as if its her worst enemy. Then she smiles to herself and moves on to chalking herself.

Routine after routine is performed. When Tatiana or Viktoria goes, everyone shouts “davai” and “stoi” all at once. Both of their routines are almost flawlessly executed. Their scores are high and close to each other, with Viktoria edging out Tatiana. No one comes near their scores and when the last gymnast goes, the girls know that Viktoria and Tatiana have taken one-two for their country. Anastasia hugs Anastasia and they don’t let go of each other until the medal ceremony begins.

Anastasia spends the rest of the day training in the gym. If Viktoria can become a world champion, so can she. She goes through each of her routines over and over again until her muscles perfectly memorize them.

After training, Anastasia runs to the pay phone with her quarters. She takes a look around the area to make sure no one will suspect her of doing anything taboo. There’s only Maria Kharenkova nearby, who doesn’t care what anyone does as long as they don’t threaten her spot as Russia’s next star. She uses her index finger to punch in Viktoria’s cell phone number. And then she waits.

“Hello?” Viktoria says while laughing. “Tanya, stop trying to throw your medal at me! I’m on the phone! Hello?” Anastasia can’t help but feel her blood boil with jealousy. She breathes in and exhales quietly.

“Hi, it’s me,” Anastasia says. She hears a door slam through the phone.

Viktoria’s voice is breathy and light as she speaks. “Nastya! Oh, now I’m starting to tear up again. I’m so happy!”

“I knew you could do it.”

“When I was chalking up on the uneven bars, I heard your voice in my head. It was super weird. Your voice was telling me about how proud everyone is of me regardless of a medal, but a gold would be nice,” Viktoria admits. “And I knew what I had to do. Whatever happened with the all-around is too late to change now. Unless Jordyn Wieber was drugged or something like that - anyway, you’re so lovely.”

Anastasia and Viktoria talk until Anastasia can barely stand upright and Viktoria falls asleep on the conversation. Anastasia whispers, “Good night, Vika,” with a toothy grin and hangs up the phone; she has to be ready for training tomorrow and more event finals from Tokyo.

The next day is relatively similar in terms of training schedule. Anastasia is tired and stressed out, but still faithfully returns to the front of a television screen. Balance beam and floor finals are today. The girls dutifully watch warm-ups and all the routines.

It’s Viktoria’s turn. Everything looks to be alright, until Viktoria falls on her double turn and the whole room gasps. Anastasia turns away from the television so no one notices her crying. Viktoria is the best at uneven bars in the whole world, but after a bad all-around showing, another title would be only fuel her desire to be better and to work harder to make the Olympics. By the time Anastasia gets control of her emotions, Viktoria’s score pops up on the television screen. She’ll be getting last place in the whole balance beam final.

Floor finals is another hope that maybe Viktoria will win a medal. It doesn’t have to be gold, the girls decided. However, the commentators mention something about Viktoria having a minor injury from the fall from the balance beam, so Ksenia Afanasyeva will take her place. Anastasia is excited for Ksenia, of course, but Viktoria’s injured and won’t have the opportunity to compete for her rightful title.

Ksenia can really pack a powerful punch though. For someone who didn’t even qualify into the floor finals in the first place, Ksenia performs almost perfectly. Her choreography fits herself well and all the girls cheer for her throughout her routine. As in, no one can hear the floor music no matter how hard they try. When her score comes out, everyone is speechless. She went from not qualifying to basically winning within a short frame of time.

For Krugloye Ozero, the Tokyo World Championships have been a success. Maybe not so much as Rotterdam, but that was a moment of triumph. After years of not medaling, the team had finally got the gold. Not to mention Aliya Mustafina’s all-around gold too. But these medals are more than enough.

Watching Ksenia win the gold medal is exhilarating, like Viktoria’s uneven bars win. Anastasia realizes in that moment that she has to work so much harder to make it to the Olympic team. It won’t be easy at all. Not like she thought it would be. She has to be world-class on all of her events. She walks to the pay phone once more and dials Viktoria’s phone number. Soon, the seniors would have their break, but the juniors would be working hard as ever. Anastasia finally thinks that she knows what she needs to do to earn a spot at the top.

__________________________________________________

Anastasia snuggles under the warm comforter. She’s in her Moscow home and Viktoria will be coming to visit Anastasia today. She’s coming to see Aliya and Nailya who are in Moscow too, but she’ll be staying at the Grishin’s for the three days that she’s here. With her alarm clock blasting, Anastasia turns her clock off and runs around doing her morning routine because no matter how warm the heater makes her bedroom, she is always freezing.

A few days ago, Viktoria had participated in the Voronin Cup, the competition where she made a name for herself all those years ago. She won all the titles except for vault, making her a dominant force in Russia. It was a victory albeit small compared to the World Championships. But it was a victory nonetheless. Now, the Voronin Cup champion would be hanging out with Anastasia.

She sprints down the stairs, careful not to trip and fall on her way down. Anastasia takes a look around the small kitchen her comfortable abode has to offer and sighs. Viktoria isn’t sitting in a chair around the table with her pale hands surrounding a cup of warm tea like Anastasia had imagined. There’s no one at the table except for her father, who is sipping tea and reading a copy of the local Russian newspaper.

Anastasia takes a seat next to him. He doesn’t look up, but asks, “Nastya, isn’t your friend from the gym coming today? Viktoria something... I seem to have forgotten her last name. She’s pretty famous, right?”

She gets up to make herself a cup of tea. “Yeah, a friend’s coming over.” Anastasia doesn’t mention that this certain friend is actually her girlfriend. “She’s definitely famous within sport circles. And her name’s Viktoria Komova.” The kettle boils and she takes the tea kettle off the warm spring to pour herself a cup.

“Ahh, there we go. Viktoria Komova. A nice name with Viktoria. Isn’t her mother that famous gymnast Vera Kolesnikova? I remember my co-worker’s girlfriend showing me a picture of her long ago.” Her father still doesn’t look up from the newspaper. He’s known as an inquisitive man, as all Grishin’s are. Anastasia learned early not to be like that though. Too many questions could lead to too many problems; ignorance is bliss.

“Vera Kolesnikova is her mother,” Anastasia says. She runs her fingers through her unruly blonde hair. She turns to the front window and lets out a small shriek. Her father even puts down his newspaper. “Vika!”

A girl of short stature and dressed in a big blue parka comes out of a taxi and pays the man while Anastasia stands in the doorway jumping up and down. It’s hard to tell that it is Viktoria because snow is falling from the heavens and not to mention all of the clothing necessary to keep anyone warm in the cold Russian weather.

Viktoria drops her suitcase next to the wooden door. “Have you missed me?” she questions Anastasia with her hands gently resting on her hips. Anastasia nods and pulls her in for a kiss.

I remember the first time we ever fought.

It was weird, to say the least. When we were younger, we fought a few times. Nothing extraordinary, really. Friends fight with each other, especially best friends. There’s the saying: the one’s closest to you hurt you the most, or something like that. I’m not one to remember quotes verbatim. Anyway, it was strange. To have me screaming at you because I was mad. To have you yelling back.

The fight happened only a week or so after the whole “I hate you” incident. I was obviously still reeling from that mess. I didn’t really know how to take this all in. If anything like that happened with one of my boyfriends, I would’ve broken up with them in a heartbeat. You out of all people would know. But you aren’t like that. There’s something more, some bond I have with you. I couldn’t just throw it all away for some stupid misunderstanding.

But this fight was not just a stupid misunderstanding. It was something much more. After months of dating, this type of ordeal was bound to happen. I’m not the calmest person anyone will meet. You might, but if someone presses the right buttons, you’ll be off on a tangent. More like the wrong buttons. Whatever.

So it had been a while since we had last seen each other. This was not solely my doing. Both of us were training super hard for Classics, Nationals, Worlds, etc. None of us didn’t want to think of what would happen if we didn’t make it. We had to be optimistic for ourselves and for each other.

It was always you and me against the world. If it was any two girls, it was us. So there would be no way you’d be going to the World Championships without me. I worked hard to impress Marta at camp. I wasn’t at where I was, for sure. But I was improving day-by-day, and that’s more than others can say. My coach was pushing me hard. Not to mention the injury I got from the Kellogg’s Tour - that really held me back.

Where was I? Oh yes, the fight. You were coming over to my house for a sleepover. Nothing awkward there. My parents were out until midnight and I wanted some alone time between the two of us. Just the two of us.

You arrived with your hair in a bun and in workout clothes. “Sorry, I’m late, I know,” you said with a small smile. “Sorry, Mack.”

“It’s fine,” I said, waving my hand. “I know you were probably making out with some boy or something.” I was kidding with that statement. You would never do anything to compromise our relationship.

But you didn’t know that.

“Mack! I would never do anything like that. Why would you even think I would be cheating on you? That’s not ok with me. You know me better than anyone else and I don’t even think about anyone else besides you and my family.” Your voice raised a slight notch and you took a deep breath to calm down. “Well...”

My blood boiled when you spoke. Couldn’t you tell, after all these years, that I was joking with you? You know I’m not the most serious person in the world. I couldn’t take the fact that you were accusing me of not knowing you. I know you so well. The shape of your face, the length of your hair, and the scars you bear are familiar to me.

I’m sorry for fighting, Kyla. But it was coming.

Love,

McKayla

________________________________________________

I sigh and try to calm myself down. McKayla isn’t going to lash out at me. It had been a hard workout at the gym today and I need relief from harsh muscle pain. McKayla’s hazel eyes squint a little bit and I know she’s either upset or mad. Probably both. This is not going to go well, whatever’s happening next between us. My heart leaps out of my chest.

“Ky, I was just kidding with that statement. Don’t you know that? You would never cheat on me or anything and I don’t know why you’d accuse me of telling false information. I don’t get it. You shouldn’t be mad at me. It should be the other way around.” I could feel this coming. I take another deep breath while McKayla’s eyes go up in flames. My hands ball up and tighten around themselves, as if they’re fists. But I would never combat with violence. Maybe McKayla doesn’t know that either.

I snicker under my breath. “Please, Mack. You don’t joke around with topics like that. We are close, we are dating, we are in love. You can’t just talk about me kissing some random boy! You don’t make any sense.”

We stare at each other. Both of us have fire, passion, burning in our eyes. This is not going to be easy, this battle between us. I don’t want to be the first to break the silence looming between our fingertips. I just desire to kiss her and feel her lips on mine; to have this all be over and be Mack and Ky again. That is all we are, all we can ever be. It’s too late to change.

Finally, McKayla dips her toes in the hot lava. She will be the one to retaliate. “Fine, Kyla. Be that way. Sometimes, you really do not realize how... how bad you really are.”

“You don’t either. Don’t go being hypocritical, please. You must know it’s one of my pet peeves.” I cross my arms over my chest. My ponytail sways with the wind blowing through the Maroney’s large kitchen windows. My eyebrows raise to the top of my forehead. “Or do you not know?” I’ve finished it with that statement.

“Leave. I don’t ever want to see your face again. The only time I’ll ever be civil with you is at public gymnastics competitions. Otherwise, there’s none of this.” McKayla throws her arms and moves them to her wingspan. She almost hits me, but maneuvers well enough so our bodies don’t touch. “Go.”

“I will.”

When I take my bags and leave, I don’t cry. I don’t cry while getting in the car and I certainly don’t cry when I drive back home. My siblings will be at home, but I don’t care at this point. I drive and turn on the radio to my favorite station. Usually, I would sing along and with every love song, I would find a poignant lyric that fits my life. But not anymore. No song will cheer me up. I drive up my driveway. My parents aren’t home, but facing my siblings is a struggle on it’s own.

Kayne, my brother, is playing some video game on his XBox. I quickly vanish out of his sight. I can hear McKenna, my sister, chatting on the phone, probably with her best friend about the latest new boy she has a crush on. No one will disturb me.

And when I get in my bedroom, I fall onto my bed and let all the pent-up tears crash onto my pillow, as if they’re waves on the sandy shore.

Now, Anastasia’s lost emotionally. She loves Viktoria, that she knows for sure. But the fact that she might not recover shocks her. Viktoria is Russia’s shining star, with the exception of Aliya Mustafina. And Anastasia still doesn’t know if she and Viktoria are dating or anything like that. Feelings change over time and Anastasia understands that. But her feelings haven’t changed. She wants to confront Viktoria about it; she doesn’t know how. Plus, with Viktoria’s injury, it won’t be easy to bring the topic up.

Anastasia goes through the motions of getting her roommate and room key and finding her dorm room. “Oh, Nastaska!” Anastasia exclaims as she opens the door. “It is awfully lovely to see you again as my roommate.” Anastasia walks in with her suitcase weighing down her body.

“Of course, we’re roommates, Nastya. So, Vika’s injured. Do you think she’ll get better?” Anastasia asks as she helps Anastasia lift her suitcase.

“She has to,” Anastasia says forcefully, as if there is no other way for anything to happen. Anastasia shrugs and goes off to unpack her own things.

When Anastasia goes to the cafeteria to eat dinner, Viktoria’s not there. She doesn’t wish to be nosy, so instead of questioning, Anastasia takes a seat next to Maria, Tatiana, and Aliya, where she is sure to get all the information. She feels the warmth from camaraderie from her teammates. They aren’t here to tear her down like catty beasts. They just want the best for her and her gymnastics career. A smile blossoms on her pale face and she leans her head closer to her plate to hide her reddening face.

Aliya takes a big gulp of her peas and slips one headphone in her ear. Her cell phone called an iPhone, has been all the rage in Krugloye Ozero. “Well, what song should I listen to?” She tilts her phone’s screen over to Tatiana. “Choose one for me, if you will, my lovely Tanya.” Tatiana raises her eyebrows and smirks, but she clicks a song and Aliya starts to bob her head to the beat. “Good choice.”

Anastasia can’t take this breathless silence; no one is willing to talk about Viktoria and her chances for her first World Championships. She tries her best to hold her objections in, but they come tumbling out just like her first tumbling pass on floor exercise. “What happened to Viktoria? Can someone tell me anything about her?”

Tatiana rolls her eyes and elbows Maria. “I knew this was coming. She’s too upset and emotionally attached to her girlfriend.” Maria tosses her red hair over her shoulder and snickers along with Tatiana. Aliya snaps in their faces to get them to shut up. Anastasia’s heart is pounding and she begins to wonder if they are catty beasts.

“Something with her ankle,” Aliya mutters. “Ever since Voronin, it’s been bothering her. She thinks she can pull through for the Russian National Championships, but it won’t be easy. Vika will have to take a very long break after competing at such a high level. It’s going to be hard for her. It’s going to be hard for everyone to adjust.”

Familiar faces all greet her with welcomes as warm as the air in the bus itself. She’s one of the potential new stars for Russia with the European Youth Olympic Festival all-around gold tied around her waist, not to mention the other winnings thrown around here and there. All the pressure is on her right now to lead Russia to an Olympic gold victory in London two years from now. She’s not sure she can handle the pressure yet. She’s going to turn fifteen soon. Viktoria’s an adolescent; still moldable, malleable, flexible, fickle. She, out of everyone, doesn’t trust herself to carry that burden.

The next major competition that she will compete in is the European Championships this year. It will be an all-around championship, so there’s no team pressure. After a long talk on the train, Viktoria has gotten all the inside information: Maria will be going as a junior with Viktoria; Aliya will be attending as a senior. And Viktoria has heard from Tatiana too. She thought it would be best to open the doors of all the compartments and yell, “I’m going to the European Championships!” before closing the doors.

Viktoria is lightly pushed by one of the Ksenias as they walk onto the bus and make their way to the back seats. “Sorry,” Viktoria whispers. She’s too occupied with her thoughts to even budge. She takes a seat where no one is sitting on the other side. Viktoria, at least for just this bus ride, wants to be alone.

The snow pounds harder and harder on the glass windows of the bus. The sound makes her jump out of her seat the first time she hears it. The next time, Viktoria wraps her brown puffy coat around her more securely and tightly. The bus starts up, sputtering away. The last few girls walk on the bus with snow in their hair and red noses. One girl takes a seat and takes off her scarf. “Vika!” she shouts. Viktoria turns to face the voice.

“Nastya!” Viktoria cries out. Through all the puffy layers, Viktoria embraces her friend. “So, how was your break?”

Anastasia leans back in her chair as if settling into a long, deep conversation. “It went well. I love being with my family and everything. It’s nice to see all familiar, loving faces around you, you know?” Viktoria nods. She knows the feeling; warm, hopeful, vibrant, and caring. It is challenging to find that without family. “So yes, everything went wonderfully. I’m glad to be back at Krugloye Ozero. Time to prepare for competitions!” Anastasia drops this subtle hint and it takes Viktoria a moment to process it.

“Oh my goodness! Nastya, you’re going to a competition?” Anastasia nods. Viktoria does the one thing she knows how to do; she hugs Anastasia again. “I am so proud of you, dushka!” Viktoria likes the warm feeling of Anastasia’s body. “Which competition?”

Anastasia takes a minute to settle down, but Viktoria is too excited. She keeps fidgeting and moving around, her coat rustling as she contorts her body to find a comfortable position. “I got invited to the European Championships. If I don’t work hard, then my position will be revoked. Otherwise, I’ll have a chance to compete.” Viktoria can’t contain her excitement at this point and lets out a loud whoop that echoes throughout the whole bus. No one stops to stare at her in annoyance though.

“Nastya! The European Championships?” Anastasia nods at Viktoria shyly. “This is great! I’ll be joining you in the tournament. We can medal together. Be on the podium together and share our victories with Russia. That’ll be something.” Viktoria lets her muscles hang loose and she completely relaxes in her seat. I can’t wait to compete now.”

Anastasia bites her lip before continuing. “So you’ll be there too?”

“Yeah, I will.” The bus drives past the iron gates of Krugloye Ozero and enters in the gym area. “I’m ready for this competition. It’ll be you and me, one, two. Taking all the medals for ourselves. I mean, we’ll dominate. And Masha’s coming, so she will definitely end up organizing some kind of fun while we’re there. Do you know who else is coming?”

Anastasia shakes her head as the bus stops in front of the door of the gym. Viktoria acknowledges Anastasia’s lack of knowledge and they leave the bus to enter in Krugloye Ozero and retrieve roommate and training information. The lobby smells the same as always: pine, snow, and warm caffeinated beverages. Viktoria lugs her black suitcase up the steps and grabs her envelope with the room key and information.

She opens the envelope with her pinky fingernail. Viktoria slides open the letter, stating her roommate is to be Maria Paseka and training starts tomorrow for her, since she’s going to the European Championships. The juniors that aren’t going to Euros will have one day off. Viktoria takes a second to reminisce about those days before heading off to the room number listed on the envelope.

On her way there, Viktoria speculates on which movie the girls will watch in Aliya’s room. It takes a second for her to remember that she’s not actually going to watch a movie on Aliya’s room’s television. She sighs. Aliya’s now a senior gymnast and gets to room with all the seniors. No more Aliya and her rock-hard calmness. None of Tatiana’s foolish antics and pranks on all the junior gymnasts. No long conversations with Anna Dementyeva on who will be the best out of all the new juniors that recently arrived. There’s none of that anymore. Instead, Viktoria’s now one of the oldest junior gymnasts and everyone is going to look up to her along with the Yulias and Maria. She shudders at this thought.

Viktoria believes she’ll have a television in her room, so everyone can still carry on the tradition. She brought along a few recently released movies in hopes that Aliya won’t choose a romantic one. But now, it doesn’t even matter. Aliya won’t be there to comment on movie choices anyway. Viktoria sighs to fill the ache in her heart while she uses her room key to open the door. It’s Aliya and Tatiana’s old room from last year and it has a nostalgic feel to the room when she walks in. Maria’s already inside; her red hair surrounds the pillow on the bed.

“Hey, Vika! Check it out! It’s Tanya and Alka’s old room. Now we have a television too! This is going to be great,” Maria says, her eyes closed to keep her blue eyes from taking in the scenery of the room.

Viktoria nods, “Of course, Masha. We’ll have a grand time, as always. Did you find out who the European Championships competitors are?”

Maria opens her eyes and twists over to one side, allowing her arm to take on her weight. “Well, not all of it is confirmed yet. Depends on work ethic and how bad they’ve gotten over the break. But the juniors are Anastasia Grishina, Anastasia Sidorova, you, and me. And the seniors are Aliya Mustafina, Anna Myzdrikova, Ksenia Semenova, Ekaterina Kurbatova, and Tatiana Nabieva.”

Viktoria unzips her suitcase and takes out her favorite leotards in order to hang them up in the closet. “Sounds like a great team. Nastya, Nastaska, Alka, Anka, Ksyushenka, Katerina, Tanya, you, and I. This competition is ours to lose.”

Maria pushes off the bed with her toned arms and begins unpacking as well. “Oh, obviously. There’s no way we can lose with all of them going. And you are, like, the best junior out there. No pressure or anything.” Viktoria sticks out her tongue at her best friend before they erupt in laughter. It’s their last year before everything changes, before the competition between the gymnasts heats up and it’s hard to do anything without someone stabbing your back. This is the time to make friends and gather up your allies. Otherwise, no matter how talented you are, you will fall with no hope for revival.

They unpack in silence before Maria jokingly asks, “What movie are we going to watch?” The girls giggle once more. There’s no one to disagree with them, or at least, they are the oldest and the amount of disapproval won’t hurt them in the slightest. Everything’s going to turn out just fine for Viktoria, she knows it. Life won’t forsake her.

_________________________________________________

Viktoria rubs her hands together, the chalk falling to the floor. Over the winter months, Viktoria has proved herself to be a worthy representative for Russia’s juniors. She’s been selected without any doubts as a member of the European Championships team as well as a competitor at Russian Nationals. Anastasia’s told her that she won’t be competing at the Russian national tournament; she’s not feeling ready for that. At the very least, Viktoria’s lucky to have Maria here with her.

The results are coming out and will be finalized after Viktoria’s performance. She takes her starting pose on the floor stage. This routine can make or break any hope for a medal. The music begins to play and Viktoria stays focused. She has to get this done, if only for her dignity and strength. She tumbles across the floor, careful not to make any errors that will cost her a medal. She dances, not to the beat of her own drum, but to the beat that has dominated her gymnastics life for at least the past months, if not every year that Viktoria’s been training.

The ending is rewarding. She finishes with an artistic flourish and runs off the stage, embracing her coach and fellow competitors. It doesn’t take long for the score to be calculated. When Viktoria sees it, she gets dizzy. She’s on the top of the leaderboard; with Aliya injured, she’s risen to be the star. Aliya isn’t even that hurt; she just has to take a break to get ready for the European Championships.

Viktoria screams out loud, not ashamed of whatever noises she makes. She’s the winner of the all-around. Everything she’s worked for in these months has made sense; it’s put into place like a puzzle. She’s the best gymnast in the nation. It can’t even be debated anymore. Viktoria wraps her arms around Gennady. They’ve worked together to make this dream come true. “I am so proud of you, little Vika.” He tells her this with a kiss on her forehead.

“I owe it all to you,” Viktoria tells her coach. They stay interlocked for a moment longer, then others come up to congratulate Viktoria on her victory. Maria is the last one to come up to her. Everyone’s loving Viktoria and becoming her greatest fan. But Maria has always been there for her, regardless of medal earnings.

“Vika!” Maria shouts. “Come here, girl. You did so well.” They embrace; Viktoria wraps her arms around Maria’s firm torso. The heat from Maria’s skin soothes Viktoria’s aching muscles. “I’m proud of you, best friend. I can’t even believe you’re the champion!” Maria breaks off the hug and uses her index finger to wipe a tear streaming down Viktoria’s cheek. “Don’t cry! No one wants you to ruin your leotard, you know.” Viktoria smiles at that and begins wiping her own tears.

Viktoria doesn’t have the power to say anything to Maria. It’s like everything has been already stated for them. There’s nothing left to that. Viktoria feels the warmth of their friendship emitting from their hearts. With that, Viktoria’s the happiest girl alive. Both of them stare up at the screen with all the scores. Komova, Viktoria is on the top.

Later that day, Viktoria takes to the podium. She’s on top of everyone else. The heavy gold medal makes her neck hurt by the end of the ceremony. For once, everyone is comparing themselves to her. She’s not being compared to. This feeling is so freeing. Best all-around gymnast in Russia.

She talks to her parents on the phone. They congratulate her and lavish praise with every other sentence. “You did so well!” “Great job, Vika. We’re proud of you back here in Voronezh.” “Everyone’s talking about you! And all the little girls back in the gym aspire to be just like you.” “Sasha says hi and congratulations.” This love and pride showered upon her makes her want to work harder. That’s why when everyone at night is out celebrating with coaches, Viktoria takes to the vault to polish up.

That night, she lays in bed with her wet blonde hair strewn over the soft pillow. She hears Maria whispering on the phone; a rarity. “Good night, Katya. Oh, yes, Nastya wants to talk to Vika?” Maria hands over the hotel phone with a curly beige cord over to Viktoria. In her normal, much louder, voice, she says, “Nastya wants to talk to you.” Maria winks and Viktoria has the sudden urge to playfully hit her. Instead, she takes the phone with a smirk on her face.

“Privet?” Viktoria asks once she places her phone comfortably between her ear and her shoulder. It’s been a long day and all she wants is a good night sleep before training back at Krugloye Ozero again. Adjusting to the harsh schedule of training after a week of competition will be interesting. It’s not that bad for Viktoria; she’s been going back and forth between competing and training. Most of the others haven’t though.

Viktoria hears Anastasia sigh. “Privet, Vika. Congratulations on your successes today. You’ve obviously reaped the benefits of your hard work. And no one can deny that. You are the best in all of Russia.” Anastasia sighs again. Viktoria has a mental image in her mind of Anastasia by the pay phone, the back of her head resting on the wall behind her. Girls are walking up and down the hallway paying no attention. Viktoria longs for her home.

“Is everything alright?” Viktoria asks, her concern seeping through her words. “You sound... well...” She doesn’t know what to say. Training is always tiring on one’s body, physically and mentally. But this was not like regular training. Anastasia seems more run-down than usual.

“Yeah, I guess,” Anastasia says. She doesn’t elaborate any further.

Viktoria leans back so her head can rest on the headboard. “Is there anything that’s not going right at the gym? You can tell me. You sound tired and really stressed out; more than usual. So if you wish to elaborate, I would appreciate that.” Maria’s eyes widen at the change of tone Viktoria’s voice takes on. She doesn’t say anything though. Instead, Maria turns over to look out the window.

“I... Vika. Training has been so brutal to my body lately. Getting in shape for Euros is nothing like I imagined it would be.” Anastasia sighs and Viktoria can hear all the emotions spill out from one breath. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

“You’ll be fine,” Viktoria says. “You, out of all of us, can do it. I’ll be back soon enough. We’ll cry and laugh together. Ok, Nastya?” Maria’s already beginning to snore. Viktoria rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, ok, Vika. Good night.”

“Good night.” Viktoria doesn’t want to be the first to hang up the phone, but after a moment of waiting, she slams the phone down to end the call. There’s a slight beating in her heart that never was there before. Her heart warms and flutters in her chest. She’s never felt like this before. Viktoria wants to make Maria up and tell her what she’s feeling now. But Maria’s snores are getting louder and louder. So Viktoria turns off the light and tries to calm herself down until she, too, falls asleep.

Eventually, a few days later, all the gymnasts return to Krugloye Ozero to prepare for all the upcoming meets. Viktoria is one of the last to arrive, since her family wanted to spend time with her before heading back to training. The first time she sees Anastasia when she returns is shocking. Anastasia is not the bright girl she once was. Even stranger, Viktoria’s heart beats quickly again, like back in the hotel room. She can barely meet Anastasia’s gaze.

That first day back, Viktoria doesn’t say anything to Anastasia and vice versa. There’s nothing to say. Viktoria’s trying to figure out what’s going on with a faster heart rate every time she sees the girl that she views as one of her best friends. This prompts the two Yulias to talk with Anastasia even more than before. Her heart feels a pang of anger and jealousy. She shakes her head and ignores herself. She cannot be falling for her friend. No way.

That night is restful. Maria doesn’t bother Viktoria too much with silly ideas. And the first day in the gym is rough. Gennady pushes her and she pushes back like a world war raging on. He screams, she cries. By lunchtime, Viktoria’s fed up with training. Aliya gives her a sympathetic look and Maria raises her fist high in the air as to support her. She plops in a seat next to Aliya. Aliya lays her hand on Viktoria’s thigh and rubs it. “Are you alright?” she asks Viktoria, her dark eyebrow inching up her forehead.

“Training is a rough process,” she mutters, while diving into her chicken salad. She’s reached the point of adolescence where no mature, responsible adult can really understand what her life is like. No one can, not even the girls she trains with. They’re definitely ones to talk to about life situations, but no way do they know what it’s like to be Viktoria Komova.

Anastasia walks in the cafeteria coughing and sneezing. Viktoria takes one glance over to Anastasia and knows it’s not alright. She’s sick and not well; not healthy by Krugloye Ozero standards. If she stays like this, she won’t be able to go to the European Championships. “What’s up with Nastya?” Viktoria asks as the whole table looks over to Anastasia sitting with some of the younger juniors. Viktoria gestures with her head over to Anastasia.

“She’s got spring fever,” Tatiana says in between bites of potato. Her blonde hair dangles close to her plate of food. “Literally.”

“More like love-sickness. It is breeding season after all,” Maria snickers. Viktoria elbows her, causing Maria to groan and stop talking. Viktoria looks across the table for an explanation. Maria isn’t going to help with this.

“She’s just sick. Caught a cold or something. She’ll be fine, at least that’s what the doctors all say,” Aliya says nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t worry. And don’t listen to Tanya and Masha. They just want to stir up gossip, which is a shame considering how lovely Nastya is.” This shuts up Tatiana and Maria fully. They return to their food until they have to leave for school.

Viktoria can’t stop thinking about Anastasia for some odd reason. She ends up writing Anastasia’s name on her paper before erasing it quickly. She does her best to erase Anastasia from her mind for a minute just like she did on paper. But it doesn’t happen. Anastasia’s stuck like glue in her brain. She doesn’t pass until Gennady starts to yell at Viktoria about pirouettes on the uneven bars.

Training hurts Viktoria’s body. The next morning, she can barely move without writhing in pain. Every stretch makes her sore and bitter. She doesn’t know how to deal with it all. Her coach yells at her and she just takes all the hits. Viktoria doesn’t want to retaliate. It could lead to disastrous consequences. She would survive the training. It isn’t like anyone else couldn’t. She’s stronger than most. She knows that better than anyone else.

She doesn’t say a word to Anastasia until they’re on their way to Birmingham for the Championships. Viktoria’s been busy training and talking with her friends. Same with Anastasia. They have enough to worry about. Viktoria ends up rooming with Maria and Anastasia pairs up with Anastasia. “We’ll see you guys for dinner at six then?” Viktoria asks the two Anastasia’s, the blonde twins with same names and similar voices; a laugh that rings throughout the whole room.

“Yes, we’ll meet up by your room,” Anastasia says. “It’s going to be a good competition, if you ask me.” Anastasia’s never been known for being overly confident. The statement shakes Viktoria up a little bit.

“It is,” Maria retorts, her mouth curled up in a smirk. Viktoria bites her lip to refrain from stating if her mouth stays like that, it’ll be permanently stuck on her face. Maria’s always smirking anyway. “We are so going to dominate this year. We’ve worked harder than anyone for this. We have to reap the benefits. Russia’s been really awful these past few years. It will be us to make it a great gymnastics country again.” And with that, she tosses her red hair and barely misses Viktoria’s face.

Viktoria and Maria begin to make their way to their room. “Don’t forget!” the other Anastasia yells. “Six PM dinner!” The juniors make their way out of the hallway so the senior gymnasts can find their way around the building and find where the best alcoholic beverages are located.

When Viktoria and Maria arrive at their room, Viktoria begins to unpack and Maria falls on the fluffy mattress and pretends to snore. Viktoria playfully slaps Maria’s face and shouts, “Get up, Masha! We have things to do.”

Maria rolls over on her stomach. “Like what?” Her light voice is muffled by the pillow. “We aren’t even training in Birmingham until tomorrow. We’re just eating dinner and probably getting ready mentally. No parties for us young ones, sadly. Maybe after we win all the medals.” Viktoria rolls her eyes, but takes a seat next to Maria’s back.

Viktoria’s heart is beating fast. It’s like it will pop out of her chest any second. She gingerly lays her right hand over her heart as if it’s a bandage; as if a heart can be fixed so easily. “Do you think we’ll win something at the competition, Masha?”

Maria sits up and leans on her elbow. The image makes Viktoria’s heart flutter some more. She presses her hand on her skin harder. “Yeah, I think we’ll win something. You’ve proved yourself a viable competitor long ago. I’ll probably get something on vault while I’m at it. I think Nastya and Nastaska can really scare the other teams with their crazy moves. I wouldn’t worry, Vika. We’re too good for anyone.”

Viktoria sighs and returns to unpack. Her heart is still rapidly firing away. It won’t stop and be quiet. Maria eventually falls asleep and Viktoria sits and listens to the songs she has put on her cell phone.

Dinner is uneventful as usual. Maria ends up making fun of the Anastasia’s again. It is somewhat of a ritual. Viktoria ends up catching herself looking at Anastasia Grishina basically every minute. These feelings she’s never had before. It confuses her. She doesn’t have a clue where to begin. Instead of indulging her heart’s desire in staring at Anastasia, she feigns interest in the seniors and them eating with male gymnasts from all over Europe.

Training in Birmingham hurts as badly as training back at Krugloye Ozero. The only difference is the amount of languages spoken in the gym at once. It’s not just Russian. There’s some English, French, Ukranian, Romanian, and others. It makes Viktoria even more nervous. It’s not just Russia looking this time around. It is all of Europe, if not all of the gymnastics community around the world. They may not expect much of her now, but she wants them to after her performance.

Gennady ruffles her blonde hair after one spectacular uneven bars routine. “Repeat that at the competition and you’ll win, no questions asked.” Viktoria smiles slightly, the corners of her mouth turning up a bit.

“Go Vika!” Anastasia screams, her hands cupping her mouth. Viktoria curtsies in response.

The girls try to explore Birmingham, but nothing interests them in the area too much. Instead, they stay in their rooms and play cards; the juniors at least do that, while the seniors end up doing what Viktoria can only imagine. They train too and call Krugloye Ozero girls as much as possible.

Podium training goes very well for Viktoria. She hits all her routines just like in training. Her coach has praise for her, as well as some strategic planning here and there to squeeze every little tenth of a point. For the other three, it is more challenging. There are falls on the beam, missteps on floor exercise, vaults gone terribly wrong, and uneven bars failures. Viktoria is a little worried for her teammates. She doesn’t want to win all the medals, just all the golds.

Her teammates don’t seem too upset with whatever they accomplished on the apparatuses. Qualifications is in two days and everything is done to better their performances. Viktoria has to stay strong. She can release after event finals. She watches Maria and the Anastasias practice their routines. They look much better without an audience and others competing.

When qualifications come around, Viktoria holds nothing back. She refuses to provide mercy for any one of her rivals. Either she wins, or no one does. And she ends up qualifying for every single event except for floor finals, which the two Anastasias beat her in. She’s fine with that. It’s her time to shine.

Throughout the qualifications, Viktoria still keeps looking at Anastasia’s every move, be it gymnastics related or not. It is Anastasia’s first major competition, and Viktoria’s surprised on how well Anastasia takes all the pressure in. She works hard and qualifies herself into the all-around with Viktoria. Anastasia even attempts to socialize with some of the other gymnasts from around Europe, despite the large language barrier. All in all, qualifications are a hit for Russia. It seems as if they will rebound from their devastating few years.

The next day, the girls attempt to train in the morning. Loud wails come out from Maria’s mouth. Vault is her only hope to gain a medal and she out of everyone knows it. The two Anastasias largely keep to themselves and work. Viktoria attempts to polish all her routines to perfection. For almost everything, she doesn’t fail, except for falling off the beam once on a particularly uneven sheep jump.

In the afternoon, they cheer for the men. It’s the all-around finals for them. “So, who do you think is the most attractive here?” Viktoria asks.

“None,” Anastasia whispers. Viktoria laughs, but she feels a wave of relief wash over her. The refreshing feeling undulating over her body shocks her. It’s strange to say the least.

“I actually don’t know,” Maria says. “Maybe David Belyavskiy. He’s delicious... and easy to meet up with, since he’s at Krugloye Ozero with us.” Viktoria rolls her eyes. As Maria gets older, the more she wants to date boys and learn more about that gender. Viktoria’s mother has warned her about boys. Viktoria’s mother attended Krugloye Ozero years and years ago. Out of everyone, she knows what’s up.

The other Anastasia sighs and leans back in her plastic chair located in the arena. “There’s so little time for boys. I mean, we’re world-class gymnasts. Isn’t it too soon to experiment with boys anyway?”

“It is never too soon,” Maria retorts. “I mean, hello? Have you not seen these boys?” They all laugh at that. Viktoria catches Anastasia searching the coaches and any signs that they’ve heard what the girls are talking about. Dating among the junior ranks is forbidden and senior dating is frowned upon. If you were sneaky enough, you could probably make it. Not that Viktoria’s searching for her soul mate among the group of gymnasts.

Maria catches Anastasia looking around too. “Nastya, hey, Nastya!” Anastasia turns around, her frizzy blonde hair hitting Maria in the face. “I didn’t mean hit me in the face!” Even with Maria shouting in the loudest voice possible in crazy Russian, the coaches don’t look at her. Not even the fans are fazed by Maria.

The girls are enamored by the men’s gymnastics events. They discuss which one they would most enjoy if they were men: Maria the vault, obviously, Anastasia Grishina with the parallel bars, Anastasia Sidorova with floor exercise, and Viktoria herself liking the high bar. She could only imagine what kind of moves and techniques she could use with only one bar and the whole air in front and behind her. If she ever had time off of training at Krugloye Ozero, or maybe during summer break at Voronezh, she’d try out some moves. Nothing too dangerous though. She didn’t want to be injured as a first-year senior.

That night, Viktoria doesn’t talk much. The Anastasias always keep to themselves, leaving Maria to be the bulk of the conversation. The seniors have their own table to discuss matters over. In her head, Viktoria goes through all her routines once more. There is no room for error at the all-around finals tomorrow. And she doesn’t want to lose; if she does, she only wants the first place to go to Anastasia. Viktoria would have to get second in that case. It is her time to prove she’s Russia’s next shining star.

In the morning,  Viktoria doesn’t chat much either. Maria and Anastasia head up to the arena to watch from the third row of the seats. Not the first; something about cheating and coaching if they were to sit in the front. Viktoria ends up on the arena stage with Anastasia Grishina within an hour of waking up. Viktoria doesn’t yawn; she’s not tired like some of the other girls. She wants to win and all she sees is glittering gold.

Anastasia leans in while they are in center split. Her golden hair shines in the light of the arena. “Are you ready to win the competition, Vika?”

Viktoria tilts her head back to the ceiling and laughs nervously. She’s ready to win, but she’s nervous, more so than ever before. She calms herself with a deep breath before answering, “I’m ready to get this over with. Winning would be the preferred result. But there are some good gymnasts here, and you’re one to beat, Nastya Grishina.”

“In that case, Viktoria Komova, I’ll have to watch out for you,” Anastasia winks and sits up out of her split. “I think we have to go and line up to enter in the arena,” she says, her slim index finger pointing over the line of young, teenage gymnasts squirming in their leotards and buns. “I suppose the competition’s going to start soon.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you out on the field then. Best of luck,” Viktoria says, sliding into her place on line, right in front of Larisa Iordache, a new Romanian hopeful. Viktoria is the head of the long line of all-around qualifiers. There was no way she could not lead anyway.

Anastasia smiles, taking her place. “Yes, good luck.” Music hums over the arena and a few minutes later, the girls walk out, their eyes burning a little from the bright lights. Everyone is screaming out various names. Viktoria can hear, “Go Vika! Go Nastya! Davai!” from all the way across the arena from Maria. Out of the corner of her hazel eyes, she sees Anastasia in the seat next to Maria clapping away. Viktoria stifles a laugh as they make their way around the arena and salute the audience before heading to their rotations.

She hits every routine like she wants to. All the details she was told to work on, she executes brilliantly. Her scores pop up on the screens in the arena and she knows that she’ll be the champion with every score. But Viktoria doesn’t care to watch the other routines. She’s too anxious, too scared, to see the crown slip from her flawlessness to someone else. In her white leotard with multi-colored accents, she feels beautiful, capable, and looks like a champion in the making.

Viktoria’s vault is well-done, her rotations performed to the best of her ability. Her uneven bars are impeccable and her handstands mostly clean. Her balance beam is clean and spotless, while Viktoria’s floor routine with James Bond-like choreography is a crowd-pleaser. She triumphs and peaks at this time.

Anastasia follows very close behind her. Viktoria waits with Anastasia for final scores to be released and they don’t talk about the competition or all the wonderful routines they’ve seen today. Instead, they make small talk about their families and friends back home in Voronezh and Moscow. It’s easier to focus on something more lighthearted at a time when all you want to do is break down and sob.

And all of a sudden, Anastasia shrieks, her voice piercing Viktoria’s eardrums. Viktoria turns around to face the screen and she screams along with Anastasia. They embrace with tears running down their eyes, soaking each other’s hair. “Nastya! We did it. We’ve won it! One-two winners. Russia is now happy; both of us have won the good fight!” Anastasia doesn’t respond; her sobs choke her voice and drown her out.

The whole stadium is cheering and shouting Viktoria’s name, and sometimes Anastasia and Larisa Iordache’s: the third place winner of the junior all-around. Viktoria’s the winner of all European gymnastics. No one can even touch her standards. She’s won it for her country.

A few minutes later, when the two of them have recollected themselves, Viktoria says, “Oh, Nastya. We’re getting real close to our Olympic dream, aren’t we?” Viktoria’s light face still shines from all the tears.

“I know. Imagine what it would be like if we took one and two at the Olympic all-around final as well,” Anastasia says, her voice getting brighter with all the hope that’s still left in her innocent soul.

“Just you wait,” Viktoria says. “We’ll be on that podium soon enough.” She reaches and tweaks Anastasia’s nose. They laugh momentarily and hug again. When they pull away, all Viktoria wants is for the embrace to last longer, to have a physical link between them for as long as possible.

When they stand on the podium together, Viktoria can’t help but look at Anastasia. Her hazel eyes sparkle and her face is red from happiness and excitement. Viktoria understands, or at least attempts to. It is Anastasia’s first major competition outside physical tests in Krugloye Ozero. And she’s already proved herself to be the second-best all-arounder in Europe. Viktoria’s very proud of her friend and her heart is soaring.

The gold medal on Viktoria’s neck is heavy, but rewarding. The Russian anthem plays and her heart swells. She exchanges glances with Anastasia every few seconds. The tears in their eyes twinkle in the light. The announcer says, “These girls will be the next hopefuls in senior gymnastics. I am sure that you’ll be seeing them on the world or Olympic stages soon enough.” Viktoria takes a look to her right and left. Larisa is a fierce competitor, while Anastasia is her friend. Viktoria vows to make sure that they will be on the podium like this at one competition again.

The senior team competition is a success; as much as the junior all-around. Aliya, Anna, Ksenia, Ekaterina, and Tatiana win the competition ahead of Great Britain and Romania. The junior girls watch with delight. Viktoria knows Russia is not going to decline, in fact, they will dominate the rest of the quad with Aliya Mustafina and herself on the same team next year.

The team celebrates with a hearty dinner, but they know not to over-do it; not just yet. Event finals are just around the corner and those medals cannot be forsaken too. “I’m so ready for this competition to be over and to have all the medals,” Tatiana drones on after her pasta meal.

“Not before I win them all,” Aliya mutters before sipping her water. Maria and Tatiana proceed to playfully slap her.

Vault and uneven bars finals are on the same day. Viktoria vaults wonderfully both times with very few errors in form and landing. After her vaults, she paces around and stretches, getting ready for the uneven bars. She goes over her routines in her head over and over again, like a new song on repeat on a music player. The only break she takes is to watch Maria vault. “Davai, Masha!”

Maria vaults as well as Viktoria does, except with a little falter on one of her vaults. “We did really well, Vika. Looks like you’ll be taking the gold this time around,” Maria says as another competitor goes to the table.

“Silver’s not too bad at all. I mean, that’s still second-best in the whole continent, all of Europe!” Viktoria exclaims.

“True. Well, I’ll be winning all the vault titles from here on out anyway, so I’m going to accept this silver with dignity,” Maria states, her eyes shining. Like Anastasia, Maria has never been to a major competition besides Krugloye Ozero training tests. Viktoria isn’t even fazed by Maria’s haughty statement. It’s a huge competition and they’re going to take gold and silver together as teammates.

After everyone vaults and Viktoria and Maria take their medals along with bronze medalist Erika Fasana of Italy, Viktoria prepares herself for her next event final. Maria proceeds to the seats in the arena to watch. She rants on and on about all the desserts she can eat from now until training again at Krugloye Ozero. Viktoria feels her own mouth water even when Maria and her cake talk leaves. Anastasia promptly takes Maria’s place.

“Can we repeat our success like at the all-around?” Anastasia asks while they help stretch each other.

Viktoria nods silently. The competition begins and each competitor is better than the previous gymnast. When Viktoria goes up for her turn, she shakes on every move and doesn’t know if she’ll even make it through the routine. The routine is overall very shaky and nerve-wracking, but her coach and Anastasia both applaud her on a job well done. So does Maria with, “You go, Vika! Win the final for me!” Viktoria hears Anastasia holler from the stands as well.

When Anastasia goes, every move is executed to perfection. By the time she finishes her routine and comes to the sidelines to sit, Viktoria still can’t utter a word. Anastasia has most certainly taken the gold medal right from Viktoria’s hands. “Do you think I did alright today?” Anastasia whispers in Viktoria’s ears as they hug.

Viktoria leans back and says, “You’ve definitely won,” she says. Anastasia beams with pride. She’s gone and won herself a medal; first in the continent. Viktoria doesn’t mind that the first place has slipped out of her hands.

When Anastasia is on top of the podium, Viktoria’s heart sings. It’s her friend’s turn to have a wonderful experience. When they hug again, Viktoria feels the sudden urge to take Anastasia in and kiss her. There is an awkward silence, a pause in life as time slows down for them. But Viktoria doesn’t do anything with her emotions and Anastasia just looks confused. “Congratulations, again, Nastya.”

“Same to you.” Viktoria can hear Anastasia’s voice quiver the slightest bit.

The night after the vault and uneven bars finals, Maria lets loose. She asks Tatiana if she can have a beer and Tatiana says no, of course. Maria somehow leaves Viktoria in the room during the middle of the night and all Viktoria wants to do is sleep. In the morning, Viktoria has to slap Maria in the face to wake her up. “Come on, Masha! There’s still two event finals left for us and there is no way in hell you’re missing out on any of them. Otherwise, say goodbye to all privileges for future competitions when we get back at Krugloye Ozero!” This wakes Maria up.

The balance beam gives no problems for Viktoria that day. She finishes her routine flawlessly, smiling up to the ceiling and to the judges in her favorite team leotard ever. The girls in the stands holler Viktoria’s name and a bunch of other obscure Russian phrases. And when she wins, the loudest bunch of girls is her teammates. “Go Vika!” “We love you and all your crazy -” “Don’t curse, Masha! We’re on national television!” “More like international television.” “Go Vika!”

Finally, she receives her gold medal, the heavy object weighing down her neck to her shoulders. She caresses it as she goes over to the seats with Maria and allows the Anastasias to take her place. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. I love Nastya and Nastaska, but they are not as fun as you,” Maria complains.

Viktoria rolls her eyes and says, “They’re good girls.”

“Whatever.”

Anastasia Grishina takes the gold on the event and Viktoria squeals with delight. A second gold for Anastasia at her first major competition. Anastasia Sidorova gets the bronze behind Larisa Iordache. The two Anastasias have always been looked over by Russian gymnastics fans. Finally, they have their chance to shine.

When they get their medals, Maria still yells out Russian profanities. Instead of trying to stop it or drown it out like a good girl, Viktoria laughs until her abdomen hurts with a single movement. She loves competing, gymnastics, and her friends.

They have one day in Birmingham to spend as they so desire before heading back to Russia and the gym. The night before, Maria leaves the room she shares with Viktoria, probably to party with the other gymnasts at the senior division. Anastasia Sidorova promptly falls asleep. Viktoria knocks on the Anastasias' door and invites Anastasia over to talk and do anything before their one day to do something fun in England before leaving again.

“I’m so tired,” Anastasia murmurs, her hand clapped over her mouth as her jaw unhinges to release a muffled sound.

Viktoria bends down and reaches under her bed. “Well, maybe this’ll make you less tired. Or more tired. I actually don’t know. Don’t knock it until you try it, right?” She takes out a glass bottle of vodka she procured from Ksenia Semenova’s room. “You wanna try?”

Anastasia initially steps away from the bed and Viktoria. But after a second of hesitation, she reluctantly moves closer, her bathrobe flapping behind her. “I... where’d you get this from?”

Viktoria uncaps the bottle. “Well, I got it from Ksyushenka. Wasn’t hard to find, really. You going to have some or not?” Viktoria looks into the bottle. It doesn’t look too harmful. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. She takes another breath and lifts the bottle to her face. She breathes in one more time and takes a small sip. The alcohol burns down her throat and enters her stomach, but the pain eases into a warm, light feeling. “It didn’t kill me.”

Viktoria hands the bottle to Anastasia’s outstretched palm. “I’ll try it.” Anastasia tilts her head back and drinks. Some of the liquid leaks out onto her shirt. “It’s... it’s not bad, Vika. Not as bad as what everyone else says.” She takes another swig of the vodka; it’s longer and more liquid flows through the bottle top to her mouth. Viktoria takes the bottle and they begin drinking and laughing.

The bottle is gone in about two hours. “Is the room spinning?” Viktoria asks, her voice slurring with every word. Gone is the precise pronunciation and basic coordination. Anastasia nods and they fall back on Viktoria’s bed.

“Maybe drinking the whole bottle was not a good idea,” Anastasia groans.

“Agreed.”

Viktoria’s eyes open a few hours later and the light pierces her hazel eyes. “Vika!” Maria voice rings out in her ears. “Did you drink the whole vodka bottle or something?” Viktoria nods, or at least, she thinks she does. “Freaking - Vika, did Nastya help you? I had to drag her lethargic self all the way from her to her room. Even I didn’t drink as much as either of you. You freaking idiots. You guys are going to be so hungover tomorrow. Just you wait.” Maria turns off the light and doesn’t make another sound.

That morning, Viktoria can barely move. Maria snickers, but doesn’t say anything. Anastasia is just as messed up as Viktoria herself. They don’t speak to each other about last night. In fact, Viktoria does her best to let the cold, harsh feeling of being hungover pass. The senior girls all give knowing looks to each other, as if they know what happened last night. Not to say that most of them are feeling the same too.

Aliya, bold as she is, the next day, takes a seat next to Viktoria on the plane back to Moscow. “Tell me, Vika. Were you hungover yesterday from drinking?”

Viktoria’s hazel eyes widen. “If I tell the truth, you won’t tell a single soul, right?”

Aliya rolls her eyes and says, “Um, yes. Who do you even think I am? Am I not Alka, your friend that will always look after and care for you?” Viktoria smiles and motions for Aliya to lean in. Aliya’s sweet vanilla smell wafts over Viktoria’s button nose. Viktoria whispers the truth in Aliya’s ear. And Aliya pulls back, with a smirk on her face. “Oh, I knew it all along. So was Nastya? Damn. Wow. I can’t believe Ksyushenka didn’t even notice a bottle missing. She’s usually very strict about that kind of thing.” Viktoria, embarrassed and red, takes out a crossword puzzle to distract from the conversation.

Arriving at Krugloye Ozero is noisy and busy. Everyone is happy to see the Russian gymnastics heroes. Yulia Inshina asks as they walk up to the dorms, “So, how was Euros? Like, really tell me. We were so ecstatic up here when you guys won all those medals. And you and Nastya swept the gold medals for the juniors. That’s, like, almost unheard of.”

“It was amazing,” Viktoria begins.

_____________________________________________________

Right after the European Championships, teams are selected for other miniscule competitions. The seniors are preparing for the World Championships and it looks like Russia will have a very successful year at Rotterdam. Viktoria’s been selected for the Singapore Youth Olympics, the only Russian to go. She’ll be spending all her time training and forgoing her summer break to allow herself to keep training. Viktoria’s allowed to go home when the seniors do, after the World Championships, instead.

Another competition lots of the gymnasts are readying for is the City of Jesolo Trophy, headlined by Anastasia Grishina, the European star. The weekend is full of festivities to celebrate their successes. Anastasia wins the junior all-around ahead of an American: Kyla Ross. Viktoria is overjoyed to hear that. The Americans have been rising in the gymnastics world, especially after Beijing. But it seems like Russia will dominate this year.

“Nastya!” Viktoria yells in the phone. “Good job! You defeated this Kyla Ross girl. An American too! Great work. We love you back home at Krugloye Ozero!” Viktoria gets pushed away from the phone by a newcomer, Maria Kharenkova, who has really made friends with everyone in the gym.

When the junior girls leave for their two-week summer break, Viktoria is alone. She attempts to socialize with the older girls. Aliya takes her under her wing. “Don’t worry, we won’t bite. We were your best friends when we were in the junior ranks. How come we can’t be now?” Viktoria’s grateful for all the attention she gets from Aliya.

The week the girls come back, Viktoria’s off to Singapore with her coach. She meets insanely talented gymnasts from all over the world, but no Americans to contend with. She tries to communicate in English with her competitors, but it doesn’t always work like Viktoria wants it to. All she wants is for the competition to begin.

And the competition does. With the leotard she wore winning the all-around at Euros, she grabs the gold medal with a score higher than sixty. Tan Sixin, the silver medalist, is at least a point or so beneath her.

Viktoria hits her vaults extremely well both at the all-around and the event finals, where she also takes gold in. The uneven bars are a tremendous success and Viktoria wins that as well. Balance beam is a triumph, but event finals are an off day for her. She’s a slight bit disappointed, but the wins have been plentiful already. Floor exercise, the one event she couldn’t medal in earlier, gets her the bronze at event finals with her James Bond-esque choreography that wows the crowd.

Returning home is like a soldier coming home from battle. Everyone feels the need to embrace Viktoria and tell her how special she is, in case she’d have to go again. Maria even kisses her on the cheek. “Damn, Vika. I love you lots.”

Viktoria takes it easy on her body as the senior gymnasts start working hard for a spot at Rotterdam. No one is really surprised when the team is announced: Ksenia Afanasyeva, Aliya Mustafina, Tatiana Nabieva, Ksenia Semenova, Ekaterina Kurbatova, and Anna Dementyeva. The six of them train from dawn to twilight. Viktoria imitates their regimens near the end of training sessions. She knows she’ll be in their shoes soon enough and practice will make perfect.

Watching the World Championships on television is astounding. “Go Russia!” The girls shout during qualifications. Team finals is the nail biter. America and China always get very close to Russia and threaten the lead. But it’s not long before the results come out.

“Do you think they’ll win?”

“Oh, shut up, Masha.”

“No seriously, Mashka, what if China surpasses them or something?”

Viktoria squeals and Anastasia grabs her hand. “They’ve won they’ve won they’ve won!” Viktoria screams on repeat. The girls all cheer and raise their water bottles for a toast. “To team Russia at Rotterdam and all their success today!”

“To team Russia!”

That night, Viktoria is in the gym stretching before midnight. The moon’s light fills the room and leaves no empty space. The door opens and creaks. She turns around to see who arrived. “Nastya?” Anastasia, in her pajamas, makes her way over to Viktoria, still in her red training leotard and blonde ponytail. “What are you doing here?”

Anastasia shrugs and takes a seat on the blue mat next to Viktoria. “Thought I’d see who was here so late at night.”

“Oh, alright.”

Viktoria keeps on stretching. Her body tenses every minute with the knowledge that Anastasia is watching her. After a moment, Viktoria stands up and takes a seat next to Anastasia, their legs touching. No boundaries between them. “I really love you,” she tells Anastasia. “My heart pounds when I see you and...” Her voice trails off while looking in Anastasia’s bright, big, and beautiful eyes.

“I think I love you too.”

Viktoria leans in and Anastasia meets her halfway. Their lips meet and their bodies intertwine with each other. It is Viktoria’s first kiss and it’s all her own to claim. Anastasia tastes like sweet mint and the pressure between them makes Viktoria soar above the clouds and into the stars.

Anastasia breaks off the kiss and says, “Are we supposed to do this, Vika?”

“No,” Viktoria admits. “We’ll definitely face consequences. Supposedly we’re too young or something like that.” She pulls her eyes away from Anastasia and looks in the window where the moon fills up the glass.

“So we should hold off for a while. We have our careers to focus on and everything. But I’ll never forget this feeling. After we both become seniors and realize our Olympic dream; we can share it together. I don’t want to risk anything.”

Dear Kyla,

I remember the first time I told you “I hate you”.

Those are definitely not words to play around with. I hate you. The first and the last words are fine to say. I and you. You and I. Proper pronouns. I’ve obviously learned something from school, even if my parents beg to differ. It’s not like I often misuse your and you’re, or their, there, or they’re. I know my English grammar. That’s a reason why I’m writing to you in English. If I was to write in Spanish, we’d have a problem. But I digress.

You don’t just tell someone that you hate them. Those words can tear someone so perfect with great self-esteem down to nothing. We out of all girls know that so well. We’re Olympic gymnasts that are constantly in the spotlight. Well, you less so, but still. You’re still part of the Fierce Five, which means ridicule and judgment everywhere you go.

Hate is a terrible feeling. To have your blood boil at the sight of someone cannot be pleasant. I’d like to say I’ve never hated anyone. I don’t think I have, at least the way that older people do. That the sight kills you and you have to block them out of your life forever, unless you want to do something destructive and deal with devastating consequences. I’ve never felt that way about anyone. Especially not you. How could I ever hate you, Kyla?

I only feel love for you. It was nice to know that you did too. But this incident changed that for a while, I must admit.

I decided to call you because your major spring meets were over and I was done with Hart of Dixie. I was scheduled to go to National Team Training Camp soon anyway. We would see each other. Not that we don’t already; we live within a few miles of each other. Regardless, I needed to hear your voice sing to me; call out to me.

It had been a long time since we had told the rest of the Fierce Five about our love affair. They hadn’t told a soul and no media was speculating that there was something going on between us. We managed to stay far apart from each other in that respect. So there was nothing and no one to say, “Oh, look at McKayla Maroney and Kyla Ross! They’re dating now.”

I called you up by my pool. I wriggled my freshly painted toes; the peach color shone in the light of the sun. It was starting to warm up already and I was going to enjoy every moment of it. There was a Chemistry book on the chair next to me, but who was I to begin to read it? Not me, not ever.

You didn’t pick up right away. It went to voicemail. I sat for a moment and debated on hopping in the pool. Instead, I grabbed my phone once more, took a selfie, posted it on Instagram, and called you back all within three or so minutes.

You picked up on the third ring. You were laughing; it wasn’t just your laugh that stood out to me. There was an unfamiliar voice located farther away. “Hey, Ky,” I said. The pool was looking really refreshing at the time.

“Oh hey - I hate you!”

Love,

McKayla

_____________________________________________________

My cell phone rings. I check to see who it is. “McKayla”, the caller ID notes for me. I ignore it. I’m with my school friend right now. After a few months of putting off hanging out, we finally got some time to just be ourselves in the middle of spring. We’ve been friends for years actually, but as I furthered my elite gymnastics career, my social life fell to the wayside. So I ignore McKayla’s call. We’ll talk in an hour or so anyway. It won’t matter.

I can’t ignore the fact that my heart still pounds every time I see McKayla’s name on my cell phone screen. I can’t believe she’s mine to hold, to care for, and to love.

“Hey, who was that?” My friend asks. We’re outside on my front porch. We’ve been playing frisbee for about half-an-hour now.

“Oh, just a friend,” I say nonchalantly. I can’t give myself and McKayla away. We’re not that ready to tell the whole world that, oh hey, we’re dating, oh and yeah, we’re a same-sex couple. There’d be too much to explain right away. Maybe we’re nearing that point in our relationship. Yet when I think that, I think about it some more and then tell myself that that time may not come for years. To keep a secret as huge and overpowering like this isn’t going to be easy at all.

My friend shields her dark brown eyes from the sun. “Oh, ok. Kyla, do you want to play some more?” She holds the frisbee up to my eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” I shrug. The sun is warming up my skin and I want to soak up as much sunlight as I can before I retreat to the harsh, cold lights of the gym for months.

My phone rings again. This time, I check the screen and it says “McKayla” once more. I don’t want to have to ignore her; my heart begins to race. “Hey, Ky,” she says in her voice that makes me melt into a puddle instantly.

“Oh, hey, Mack,” I respond. My friend chucks the neon yellow frisbee at my head. I reach to catch it with my free hand, but it’s too far away. I yell playfully, “I hate you!” The two of us begin to laugh.

McKayla takes a sharp breath; I hear her sadness from the phone. “Mack? Are you alright?” My friend is still laughing. I’ve ceased.

“That’s great to know that you hate me,” she snaps. Her warm voice has truly gone cold in a matter of seconds. My heart sinks to the ground. “Bye, Kyla.” I drop my phone on the soft, green grass and start to cry.

She has to know that I didn’t mean any of the words I said. In fact, the words weren’t even directed her way. My friend approaches me and kneels down with me. “What’s wrong, Kyla? What happened?”

“She... she thinks I hate her. She got it all wrong,” I mutter through my tears.

My friend picks up the phone and silently demands me to plug in the passcode. She dials McKayla and explains the whole situation as my tears subside. I’m still torn up. McKayla has to understand that no one can hate her; I can only love her. Whoever hates McKayla hates me. I won’t stand for that. My friend hands me the phone again, mouthing, “sorry.”

“Mack?”

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

Her dark hair falls in front of her face. Usually, her girlfriend would push her hair back behind her ears so she can see shining eyes. But not this time. Certainly not now. Too much has changed between them. A new television show, gymnastics training, and so forth.

"Then why'd you bring me back here? Out of all places?"

It's hard for even her to remember all the details about their relationship. The first time they locked eyes. The first time they kissed. The first time they fought. She wouldn't want to experience it with anyone else; a roller coaster of a relationship.

"I want you to remember what it felt like."

"I don't want to remember."

She never actually loved her, that was true. It was all for show, so maybe the fans could take a liking to them or anything to get attention. Feelings weren't in play. It was all control and power. Who could make the other bend at their will.

"I never loved you."

"I was pretending."

"So we're equal."

Anastasia wonders if she’s Viktoria’s best friend. Unlike her, Viktoria has a large circle of friends that she relies on. If anything, Viktoria certainly doesn’t need Anastasia’s friendship. She has plenty of other girls to trust. Anastasia sighs and picks at her green nail polish. Worrying isn’t helping her. The competition intensifies between girls as they move up the ranks at Krugloye Ozero. She doesn’t want to be the girl who breaks down early.

The bus ride is bumpy while snow falls in droves. It cannot seem to cease, this snow weather. Anastasia wishes it could be sunny and warm. The gymnasts can work throughout the day and at night go out to the nearest town and watch a movie or explore. They could come home and go on gymnastics websites to see who is the next rising star internationally. She wants the sun and the heat and everything about summer to come in her life.

She puts in her headphones and turns on her CD player. She’s been listening to American music since the start of the new year. It helps her learn English and she likes the sound of it, all technological, but still easy on the ears. Her mother says it’s like bubblegum. She hits play and sounds from the first track on a disc made by three American brothers with dark hair ring through her ears.

Anastasia doesn’t pause the music until they arrive at Krugloye Ozero. She takes her bags and enters into the building. She stops and stares for a moment; marveling at the inside. Her home still stays the same when everything changes. She gives herself one more second to ponder her gymnastics home before grabbing her room assignment and key from the front desk. Anastasia tears the envelope, her nail polish all gone. “Anastasia Sidorova,” the envelope states. Anastasia grins. If she can’t have Viktoria, Anastasia is the best choice.

“Nastaska!” Anastasia runs up to Anastasia and tugs on her puffy brown coat sleeve. “We’re roommates again!”

Anastasia takes off her pink glove and high fives Anastasia. “Awesome! You’re probably the best roommate to have. So we’ll settle down, eat dinner, and watch a movie at Alka and Tanya’s?” Anastasia nods. “Great! Take me to our room, leader.” Yes, Anastasia is most certainly pleased with her roommate. It is a constant in an ever-changing gym where upgrades are everywhere and drama is a daily occurrence.

They settle in their rooms nicely. Each girl unpacks and feels at home until dinner time. Anastasia and Anastasia do not separate; they sit at a table for four with the two Yulias. It is years before they turn senior. Anastasia picks at her borscht and looks around the cafeteria. She doesn’t see Viktoria in the room. She wasn’t on the train from Moscow either. What’s wrong? Anastasia can’t swallow anymore beet soup and instead drinks water for the rest of the meal. She’s too shy to ask anyone about Viktoria.

Aliya chooses the movie to watch; it ends up being a romance of some sort called High School Musical. Halfway through the movie, a girl walks in with tousled hair and a huge coat. Maria runs over to her. “Vika! Thank goodness you’re here. What happened to you?”

Anastasia can’t help but look at Viktoria gracefully shaking snow out of her blonde hair. After two weeks back, it seems like Viktoria has changed so much yet stayed the same. Viktoria gives Anastasia slight wave; she returns the favor. Inside, Anastasia is beaming with joy and excitement. “My family decided that they hadn’t had enough time with me in Voronezh, so we took a road trip from home to Krugloye Ozero. Very eventful.” Viktoria rolls her eyes and sits down next to Maria.

“Well, we missed you on the train!” Aliya calls out. She takes the remote and presses “play”. Anastasia is still radiating happiness from seeing Viktoria after a long winter break.

The movie plays, filling up the room with noise once again. Music floods the room and the girls sing along to the English lyrics. Tatiana yells out in the middle of the song, “I don’t know about Alka, but I certainly didn’t miss Vika at all!” Anastasia hands Viktoria a pillow with a wink. And Anastasia hears the pillow crash onto Tatiana’s body. “Vika, you little - I will so get you later.” Viktoria smirks at Tatiana and ducks before another pillow is thrown her way.

“Please stop,” the other Anastasia pleads. “I want to watch the movie.” Tatiana shakes her fist at Viktoria. Viktoria sticks her tongue out, but that’s the end of the teasing. Anastasia laughs to herself when she thinks no one is watching her. Her girls are back in her life. She doesn’t believe she’ll ever want to leave Krugloye Ozero. She likes it too much.

Maria leaves when the movie is almost over. No one protests her leaving. Perhaps she wants to get more sleep. The girls only have a day’s rest before heading back to full training in the gym again. Everyone applauds the movie when it is over. No crying; unheard of whenever Aliya picks the movie. Viktoria invites both the Anastasias over to her room, but only the older one, the one who loves Viktoria more, goes. Nastaska decides to go to their room and catch up on sleep and schoolwork.

“The room isn’t a mess,” Anastasia says as the first thing when they walk into the room. She folds her bangs back to reveal her pale forehead. “Hey, where is Masha, anyway?”

Viktoria jumps onto her bed so her stomach hits the comforter and all the blankets to keep her warm in the Russian winter. Anastasia gingerly sits down to avoid causing a mess on Viktoria’s bed. “I have no idea where Masha is and I really don’t care as long as she comes back to sleep in her bed tonight. Nastya, want to listen to some music? Ok, sure, let’s find a good station.” Viktoria leans over to the radio in between her bed and Maria’s. Her blonde hair falls in her face as she turns the knob. Anastasia has the urge to run her fingers through her luscious hair. Instead, she twiddles her thumbs as the music grows louder and louder.

Anastasia and Viktoria dance around the dorm room until their voices grow hoarse and their stomachs hurt. Anastasia lowers the volume and slides on the bed with Viktoria. “Not the best idea,” Anastasia groans.

“You’re right with that,” Viktoria complains, clutching her stomach. Her hair sticks to the back of her neck. “I’m glad we have off tomorrow.”

“Same here.”

The door creaks open as the two of them keep moaning in the night. Maria staggers in with her frizzy red hair and bloodshot gray eyes. She can barely walk upright and falls onto her bed with a loud thump. Anastasia and Viktoria look at each other. Anastasia has no idea what has just happened. Why is Maria like this? She wonders. Viktoria sits up with a sigh and trudges over to Maria’s bed with labored steps.

“Masha? Are you ok?” Viktoria asks. She flips Maria over on her back. “Do you need me to get a nurse? Or your coach?” Maria’s eyes open on the word “coach”. She shakes her head back and forth.

Maria slides up her head so she can rest on the pillow. “No, Vika, don’t call for anyone. I’ll be fine here. Just... I think I would feel better if you would kiss me.” Viktoria’s eyes widen and looks to Anastasia for help.

Anastasia sits paralyzed on Viktoria’s bed. She has no idea where to even begin. Her mind is floating between ideas and rambling thoughts. She’s stuck with nowhere to go. How is she supposed to start processing a request for her best friend’s best friend giving a kiss? Anastasia wants to block all romantic interaction between them, but she’s never been a part of anything like this before. So she just sits.

Viktoria leans in closer to Maria. Anastasia holds her breath. She desires, wishes, wants with all her heart to rewind back to before, when she and Viktoria were dancing and singing with each other. She doesn’t need this. She waits as Viktoria gets closer to Maria and finally, Viktoria’s lips land on Maria’s forehead. “Do you feel better now?” Viktoria asks. Anastasia lets out her pent-up breath.

“Lots. Spasibo, Vika,” Maria says. She turns to face Anastasia. “Oh, Nastya. Didn’t see you there.”

Viktoria sits next to Maria’s limp body. “Where were you tonight, Masha? Be honest. Don’t say you were in the gym conditioning on beam or something like that. Because you weren’t.” Maria blushes as if she’s embarrassed to divulge her secrets to her best friend. Anastasia wrings her hands. She has no idea why Viktoria is interrogating Maria about night expenditures. The information won’t help anyone.

Maria moans while trying to sit up. She doesn’t have the energy to do so and she flops right back onto the pillow of her bed. “Why do you even care? It’s not like it even matters.” Her words slur as she speaks. Anastasia thinks she knows what’s going on, but she doesn’t have the strength say it out loud or enough evidence to prove it. So she waits, hoping Viktoria understands what the slurring is.

“Did...” Viktoria’s voice trails off. “Did you have anything to drink?”

“I - Vika, that’s none of your business.”

Viktoria throws her hands up toward the ceiling. “Come on, Masha! Just freaking tell me. Tell me everything. I am so not going to judge, and neither will Nastya. Please.” She takes Maria’s pale hands in hers. “Please tell us. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. We want to know what’s going on in your life.”

Maria gasps for air and begins speaking slowly so her words won’t crumble together. “During the train ride, I sat with the two Ksenias and they invited me over to their dorm room in the senior wing. And so I got all the details from them and everything. It was supposed to be harmless fun; I went to their room when the movie was almost over. I entered and there were lots of girls, you know, senior gymnasts.”

Maria looks at Viktoria and she nods as to signal to keep moving forward.

“Ok so, the gymnasts were there drinking, laughing, having a good time, whatever. But there were male gymnasts too. Live, real, in the flesh boys, who should not be in a girl’s dorm room. And drinking too! I decided to join in the fun. Drink, hook up with boys, the whole deal. So that’s where I was. Nothing awful. Nothing bad happened to me. Nothing at all. I had a lot of fun.” Maria’s voice gets softer and softer as she speaks. “I really enjoyed it. My first real drink of alcohol. I can’t wait to be a senior.” As soon as she says this, Maria falls asleep, the sound of her hushed snores fill the room.

Viktoria tucks Maria in all the blankets. She squeezes her hand once and maneuvers to her own bed. She lies down and sighs, her eyes staring off into space. Anastasia doesn’t know how to react to all this. She is barely a teenager. No one has taught her how to act in these types of situations. She sits on Viktoria’s bed, pondering what kind of things the older girls could do without getting into trouble.

“I suppose I should go,” Anastasia says. She uses her arm muscles to push herself off the bed. “I will see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Viktoria nods. “Ok, Nastya. Sorry you had to be here for all of this. You’re young, and Masha can be a bit... a tad strange sometimes. This was going to happen and I’m sure she’ll be sneaking over to the older girls’ rooms more often now, now that she has experienced all of this and enjoys it. Tomorrow, she won’t even remember anything about tonight.” Viktoria rolls her hazel eyes as the light flickers in the lamp. “Good night, Nastya.”

Anastasia closes the dorm room door, hoping to not let it release a creaking sound. She tiptoes down the hallway where the lights are dimmed. She almosts trips over something in the hall. Anastasia stumbles in her dorm room and hears her roommate breathing deeply. Anastasia quickly gets ready for bed and puts the situation out of her mind. She wants to forget about Maria asking for a kiss from Viktoria. Maria’s problems are her own to deal with.

_________________________________________________

Anastasia rummages through Viktoria’s closet. Viktoria has recently been selected to represent Russia at the European Youth Olympic Festival. Anastasia hasn’t been chosen and deep-down inside is viciously angry. She’s proven over and over again to everyone that she deserves to start junior competition and become Russia’s latest hit. But with each competition selection, Anastasia never gets picked. And she tries again and again to hit all her routines once more. Anastasia wants to give up sometimes, but she remembers the promise she made with Viktoria about the Olympics and vows to push through.

“This leotard is pretty,” Anastasia suggests, taking it off the hanger and presenting it to Viktoria as if she’s modeling it herself. “Are you taking this one with you?”

Viktoria shakes her head sadly. “No, I think I have to leave this one here. It’s not an official team leotard, I’m sad to say.” She takes out a leotard from her suitcase. “This is the one that I’ll be wearing. I think there’s another one I’ll have to take to Japan too.” Anastasia kicks herself softly when Viktoria goes to put the leotard back. Viktoria will be going to the Japan Junior Invitational too. And she will be at Krugloye Ozero, still working to be noticed by coaches and get chosen for a competition.

Viktoria slides over to Anastasia in her fuzzy orange socks. “Oh, Nastya. Promise me that you’ll call me after the competition like you usually do. Don’t worry, I’ll be thinking of you throughout the whole way.”

“I’ll call you.” Anastasia can’t look Viktoria in the eye. She’s trembling; afraid that she’ll break down and cry in front of her friend, the one she reveres more than anyone. All she wants is the rush of competing, and no one can give her that. “I’ll always call you as long as you answer.”

Viktoria wraps her arms around Anastasia’s waist and kisses her on her red cheek. “And I really appreciate it. Soon, you’ll get to travel with me! Imagine that. We’ll win all the medals, you and me. Gymnastics greats, like royalty and whatever. Can’t you imagine it?” Viktoria lets go of Anastasia and moves back to her suitcase as if nothing happened. “I can see it all now. Our names in big letters and everything.”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, that’s all. To hope for something that might not come true.” Anastasia bites her lip after she speaks. The talent housed at Krugloye Ozero is through the roof. Everyday, Anastasia attempts to up her difficulty scores in any way possible: new tumbling passes, new release moves, new vaults, new dismounts; she wants to be the best. She wants to have a spot on the team that she can call her own without fear that perhaps someone will beat her and take the position away.

The girls fall silent. Anastasia keeps rummaging through Viktoria’s closet. Viktoria goes through the packing list one more time to make sure she has everything. She won’t be able to come back to the gym to get something if she misses anything. They wait for moments until Maria staggers in the dorm room, this time sweating and groaning. She sits on her bed while her she takes out her fiery red ponytail.

“I absolutely hate beam conditioning,” Maria complains. “Why does the balance beam have to be an event anyway? Almost everyone falls of the darn thing at competitions anyway. It hurts my feet too. What’s the point of trying to look artsy and graceful when you’re trying not to fall and die?” Viktoria snorts in response. Anastasia knows by now not to cross Maria when she’s in a mood swing.

Viktoria zips up her suitcase and sits on Maria’s bed. “Masha, you’ll be fine. You’ve gone through so many beam routines before.”

“Yeah, and I have dreaded each one of them.” Maria’s harsh tone signals Anastasia to leave the room immediately. “Every single tumbling move and every single attempt to dance on a thin piece of... I don’t even know! I don’t understand why balance beam even needs to be a part of gymnastics.” Anastasia steps away from the closet and heads over to the door. “Nastya? You leaving already?” Maria asks. Anastasia jumps, her heart racing. She hadn’t realized Maria had even acknowledged her presence yet.

“Um, I am,” Anastasia mutters, barely audible above the noise of the heater. “See you later, Masha. I’ll call you after your competition, Vika.” Anastasia backs into the door and hits her head. Viktoria cries out, but Anastasia opens the door and runs back to her dorm room, sprinting as if the end of the world is following right behind her. She doesn’t stop until she arrives on her bed. The other Anastasia lifts up her head and shakes out her blonde hair. She raises an eyebrow at Anastasia.

“Why are you running?” She questions. “Is this some training regimen I didn’t get invited to or something?”

Anastasia’s head is pounding, ready to explode any second. “I - no, Nastaska, it’s not. You know how I’m doing.” Anastasia thinks to herself, “I’m doing quite terribly. It’s horrendous how little I’ve improved. How am I supposed to stay at Krugloye Ozero if I’m not anywhere near the top of the best gymnasts? No gym will ever want my talent unless I defect to Kazakhstan or some other forsaken place. In fact, no one will want me and my lack of skill.” Her head is hurting her, so she lies down until it’s time for dinner.

She doesn’t sit with Viktoria for dinner. Instead, Anastasia chooses to sit next to introverted girls like Anna and the Yulias. They don’t speak much. Maybe if she sits with them, her emotions will calm and her headache will go away. It seems that way; Anastasia can finish her meal without too much of a problem.

At night, Anastasia stays up with the lamp on reading a Russian romance novel. She likes to drift into fantasy worlds and get caught up in the adventure and excitement. Compared to the protagonists in novels, her life seems utterly boring. They fall in love and have adventures of a lifetime. What Anastasia has is nothing like that: friends who fight constantly and daily gymnastics practices in which her skin peels off and she almost breaks her bones. She loves gymnastics and would give up anything to keep training and competing. But, she wants her life to have something more to it. Adventure, excitement, anything to make her heart beat quick as the pounding of a bass drum.

Anastasia doesn’t talk much with Anastasia, who is attempting to do some challenging math problems. Anastasia sneaks a peek at question number ten and almost falls off her twin-sized bed. A scattering of numbers and letters fill the page with parenthesis and symbols everywhere. Anastasia doesn’t understand how someone could even begin to decipher that mess of math. It looked more like a foreign language.

Anastasia catches her looking an hour or so later. “Oh, Nastya, are you checking my math paper? My teacher gave me this packet to work on to see how I’m doing. I have to admit it: I am a total math geek. I’ve always loved mathematics for some reason.” Anastasia shrugs her shoulders and bites her pencil, attempting to finish problem twenty-seven. “I really find calculus to be a great math subject. If I wasn’t a gymnast, I would definitely be doing my best to be a math professor.”

Anastasia moves to the edge of her bed, her blonde hair frizzy and all over her face. “Sorry to disagree, Nastaska, but I prefer literature and history.” She reaches over her pillow to retrieve her bulky novel. “Like this, kind of.”

“Imagine what we would be doing if we didn’t do gymnastics,” Anastasia says.

“It’d be strange. Too weird to think about.” And with that, the conversation ends until it is time for them to go to sleep. Anastasia remembers that Viktoria won’t be there in the morning to greet her and train with her. Maybe without a distraction, she will work harder and be more diligent with her artistry and form. But she knows she’s just fooling herself; she’ll work less and less until Viktoria, her best friend, is home at Krugloye Ozero.

That night, Anastasia dreams of attending the Olympics with Viktoria. Her other teammates are blurry when dream-Anastasia turns to watch their routines. When she wakes up, Anastasia rubs her eyes with her hands balled into fists. So it didn’t happen yet. She knows maybe it will though. It could be even better in reality; to compete at the Olympics in real life versus just in dreams.

Anastasia trains hard with her coach. She tries not to retaliate at him every single time he complains or yells at her. She realizes that he’s only doing his best to help her out. If only he could say it in a nice manner or a splendid tone. So instead of taunting her coach, she instead takes his advice and uses it to her advantage. Anastasia runs to vault and counts her twists in the air while timing her proper landing. She goes around and around on the uneven bars, making sure her toes are always pointed and that she is perpendicular to the ground beneath her on her handstands. Anastasia keeps her eyes on the beam as she tumbles and dances on top of it. And her floor work is precisely planned out on the mat so she’ll never go out of bounds. All important gymnastics skills.

The next few days consist of the same routine. Fighting, annoyance, triumph, all packed into one long training session. She fully hits a move that she’s been wanting to include in her routine ever since she arrived at Krugloye Ozero. Anastasia’s feeling proud of herself; working so much and being focused with laser eyes while Viktoria is away competing. And every night, Anastasia attempts to socialize with the junior girls. Even if it means watching horrendous TV shows with them or playing Would You Rather. On top of that, Anastasia reminds herself that soon it will be summer. She’ll return home to Moscow for a fortnight.

She trains so hard and for so long, that often the clock strikes too many times for Anastasia to count all at once. The small windows that provide some natural light in the gym are completely dark. Every night, Anastasia nurses whatever bruises or cuts she gets that day. Training and gymnastics has become even more than it once was. Inspiration has brought her here.

The day of Viktoria’s competition, Anastasia and her coach decide to focus on conditioning and not run through routines. Inside, she’s grateful for time off of the apparatuses. While she stretches, Anastasia thinks about all the memories she has here in the gym. She has been here for two years already. Two long years. She hopes that she can stay for more than two years down the road. That this grueling training will be worth it in the long haul.

That night, Anastasia can barely stay still. After dinner, she’s a jumpy mess in the gym. She can’t stand without bouncing around for more than a minute, so Sergey lets her off training for one night. In her dorm room, she can’t sit still either. She takes to skipping around on the floor, hoping no one on the floor below her will get upset at the loud, elephant-thumping noise she’s making.

Anastasia can’t taking the waiting any more. She takes out some change and rushes over to the pay phone down the hall. She quickly dials Viktoria’s number, her nimble fingers flying all over the keypad. “Privet?” Viktoria says on the other end. Anastasia uses the palm of her hand to conceal the smile spreading on her face. “Ok, let me guess. It’s either Masha or Nastya.”

Anastasia giggles. “Oh, Vika! You are great at guessing. It’s me, Anastasia.”

“Yay, I got it!” Anastasia loves the singsong quality Viktoria’s voice has when she’s happy and exuberant. “Oh goodness, I’m so tired.” On cue, Viktoria yawns.

A silence falls upon the phone call. Anastasia wants to know the results, but what if they aren’t good ones? She waits until she can’t bear it anymore. “So, Nastya, tell me how you did! I honestly can’t wait any longer.” Viktoria doesn’t answer. “Are you still there? Hey? Vika?” Anastasia almost hangs up and redials until she hears a small snicker from the phone. “I hear you!”

“Ok, Nastya, sorry for making you wait. I kind of wanted to see how you would act if I dragged out this process.” She laughs again and Anastasia’s body tingles from the warmth it brings. “So third in vault, which I’m pleased with.” Viktoria ends abruptly.

“Wow!” Anastasia’s very happy for Viktoria. She’s competing against the best youth in Europe. To win even a third place medal is a great achievement. “Congrats, Vika! It’s lovely to hear that. You’re so good at gymnastics.”

Another pause of silence before Viktoria ends up laughing again. “Oh, Nastya, I’m such a mean friend. I got more than that, but I wanted to see how you’d react.” Anastasia stands in shock with her arm almost limp, barely able to keep the phone next to her ear. There’s more to Viktoria’s medal count? “I got first on uneven bars, balance beam, and the all-around!” This time, Anastasia drops the phone, the curly cord being the only thing that saves it from falling to the floor. She shrieks with happiness. First out of all the little European gymnasts!

Anastasia picks the phone back up and says, “Oh my goodness, Vika! You are really awesome, did you know that? Wow. I knew you could do it. And think about it, you’re the best young gymnast in all of Europe.” Her heart is warmed by Viktoria’s victory. It’s as if Anastasia won the competition herself.

“Spasibo!” Viktoria yawns. “I should get some sleep. I still have another competition waiting for me...”

“I’ll let you sleep then. Congratulations again, Vika.”

“Alright, tell Masha and Alka that I love them. Good night, Nastya.” Viktoria hangs up the phone, leaving Anastasia with the ringing dial tone in her ears and Viktoria’s last words stuck in her brain as if they are glued to her mind and won’t let go with any means of removal. It’s going to be a long night for sure. Anastasia walks to her dorm room in a daze, not stopping to say hello to Anna Dementyeva as she passes her. Did Viktoria say the word “love”?

Anastasia falls back to what happened a few minutes ago. Yes, Viktoria did say “love”. But as Anastasia goes back to the phone call, she remembers clearly. That word was not directed to her in any way. It wasn’t “I love you, Nastya” at all. It was more like the opposite. “Tell Masha and Alka I love them.”

Viktoria didn’t say anything about her loving Anastasia.

Anastasia sprints to her dorm room, fumbling with tears in her eyes to find the key. She enters in the room and falls on her bed with her pillow pressed to her face. It’s late at night and anyone can hear her tears. But she doesn’t care. Not today at least.

Tears drip down her face one by one until they form a waterfall pouring down from her hazel eyes. She wants Viktoria’s friendship, her love, so much. Ever since Anastasia stepped foot on Krugloye Ozero, that’s the one person she wanted and still wants to bond with. Love is something Anastasia wants to feel for herself. Friendly, unconditional love and support. And it’s all gone now. She wonders why Viktoria didn’t say “I love you” to Anastasia too. It was just Aliya and Maria. Maybe Viktoria thought Anastasia knew already; she wouldn’t have to say it. Or maybe Viktoria didn’t love Anastasia.

Anastasia’s tears don’t cease the whole night. She doesn’t recall falling asleep, but she opens her eyes and turns her head, feeling the wet pillow. She brings her fingers to the soaking-wet fabric. And then she’s reminded of last night; how Viktoria didn’t say that she loved Anastasia. Now, with all of that, Anastasia has to face Maria and Aliya. She sighs and begins her monotonous daily routine.

Anastasia doesn’t speak to Maria and Aliya. They don’t talk to her and she doesn’t talk to them. Anastasia has her other friends to talk to. Until the day of the Japan Junior Invitational comes along and Anastasia finds herself partnered up with Aliya for floor conditioning. It’s a day when the coaches allow the budding gymnasts to work together. Anastasia thinks, “at least it’s Aliya. I’d much rather have a conversation with her than with silly Masha.”

Aliya and Anastasia still don’t talk when they’re in splits or moving around the floor, running and performing cartwheels. Not until Aliya asks, “Do you want to do your floor routine first or shall I go?” Anastasia just gapes for a moment before she can create an actual sentence.

Anastasia doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she says, “Vika wanted me to tell you that she loves you.” She says it all in one breath, leaving her gasping for air.

Aliya raises her dark eyebrow as if she already knew that a long time ago. “Um, ok then. Vika called me yesterday to tell me that though. She told me to tell you that she loves you too. But that’s besides the point.” Aliya waves off the statement with her left hand. “Go do your floor routine so I can critique it.”

Anastasia poses in her starting position as Aliya walks off the mat. Her heart is racing. Viktoria said she loves her! She goes through her floor routine, her mind wandering on how Viktoria does view her as a friend. Not all is lost. Anastasia doesn’t feel too bad when Aliya starts reprimanding her either. There’s lots of mistakes in that routine and Anastasia promises Aliya that she’ll do her utmost best when she practices with Sergey again. Aliya nods and shows Anastasia her routine. Anastasia can’t help but gasp at how effortless Aliya makes it all look.

After they perform for each other, Anastasia hunkers down to try to get her tumbling passes all stuck and polished to perfection. She runs them through over and over again; her muscles straining to memorize them. She falls while working on her third pass, letting her feet absorb some of the shock from the mat and her ankle twists abnormally. Aliya runs over to her, shouting out, “Nastya! Are you alright?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Anastasia mutters. The searing pain makes it hard for her to see behind the tears she has left over from last night. “I think I’ll be fine.” She tries to stand up, but falls back down. “Ok, so maybe not.”

Aliya lifts Anastasia up and allows Anastasia to lean her arm on Aliya’s shoulder. “We’re walking to the infirmary!” Aliya shouts to no one in particular. Then they hobble away. These few days without Viktoria have certainly been interesting for Anastasia. After some simple physical exercises, the nurse deems Anastasia’s injury minor and that some rest today and tomorrow is what she needs to recover. Aliya takes Anastasia to her dorm room, limping along the way.

“Get some rest. I’ll get Nastaska to bring you dinner.” Aliya looks around the room once and turns on her heel to go back to the gym. Anastasia, with more free time than ever imaginable, takes out a book and begins reading. She reads until Anastasia brings back potatoes and beef for dinner.

“At least there’s meat,” Anastasia says as she hands the plate to her invalid roommate. Anastasia nods her thanks and sticks her fork into a thick piece of potato.

The next day, Anastasia lies in bed thinking about life in Moscow. It must be nice to live in the city, to walk around without a care. Even if it’s snowing like never before and cold nips your nose at every chance it gets. Anastasia can never grow up as a teenager in Moscow unless somehow she gets an injury that will damage her career forever. With that thought, Anastasia shudders in her bed, her blankets vibrating with her. She’d rather stay in Krugloye Ozero than be injured for the longest time.

When she returns to training, Anastasia’s floor has stayed of the same caliber, much to her coach’s dismay. Aliya’s has gotten better however, and is working on a new upgrade. Anastasia doesn’t wallow in self-pity and works on her tumbling again. This time, she focuses so she won’t injure herself. Viktoria Komova not being at Krugloye Ozero with her is too much of a tempting distraction.

That night, Anastasia sees Maria leave Aliya and Tatiana’s dorm room movie night again. She doesn’t say anything to stop her. Maria would just get angry and Tatiana would make snide remarks every other second. Anastasia keeps to herself instead. It’s easier that way.

Later on in the week, she notices Maria on the phone. “Oh, that’s so great to hear, Vika!” Maria says into the phone. “I love you so so much. Can’t wait until you’re home... yeah yeah, I know. Hey, Nastya? Want to say hello?” Anastasia walks over to the phone booth and takes the black phone from Maria’s hand. Maria leaves with a wave and a smirk. Anastasia smells Maria’s perfume and sweat mingling. She shakes her head shyly and focuses on Viktoria.

“Nastya! I got first in uneven bars, balance beam, and the all-around!” Viktoria announces. “I’m so blessed.”

“That’s great to hear,” Anastasia whispers. “I am really proud of you.”

“Is there anything wrong?” Viktoria asks. “Your voice is quivering. I hope you’re ok. Don’t let Masha or Tanya get to you.” Anastasia doesn’t make a sound. Another river of tears are threatening to leak through her eyes. She didn’t ask for this.

“I -” Anastasia doesn’t know where to begin. “I am very happy for you. You did splendidly. First out of all the competitors; there’s no denying that. But...” Anastasia’s voice cuts off and she has to take multiple deep breaths to catch her voice once more. “But... oh, how I wish I was with you competing!” Anastasia openly sobs and she can’t stop.

Viktoria’s soothing words speak to her. “Nastya, do not beat yourself up because of this. You are young. There’s lots of time in the world for you to make your mark and win. One day, you’ll beat all of us. I can attest to that, I promise. Don’t cry, dushka. Remember the promise we made?” Anastasia nods before realizing Viktoria can’t see her. “We will go to the Olympics together. Your first international competition with all the best in the world. Don’t forget that. It will be us two on top of the world.”

“I - ok, Vika.” Anastasia doesn’t stop crying, but she calms down enough to speak clearly. “I will always remember.”

“Good. I’ll see you back home at Krugloye Ozero soon enough. Don’t miss me too much.” Viktoria laughs that laugh that makes Anastasia giddy; it makes her fall apart into little pieces of junior-gymnast-with-an-awesome-best-friend.

Anastasia says, “Ok. Congratulations.” She hears the dial tone, but her heart’s in a serene place now. No time for worrying. She has to make the Olympic team without any doubt in anyone’s mind.

______________________________________________________

Summer is slowly descending on the members of Krugloye Ozero. The warm weather has spawned many visits to the nearest town for exploration. They’ve spent hours lounging around outside the gym to get some sunlight, at least the junior girls have. The senior gymnasts are working towards scoring a spot on the World Championships team. Russia can choose four gymnasts and everyone is striving for a chance to be on the podium in London. Many gymnasts of the last quad have retired, which means more opportunities for the ones who have stayed.

Tonight is the night the team is being announced. Tatiana and Maria, the sneaky duo they are, decide to watch from the doorway and find out who is on the team before anyone else does. Tatiana will text the results to whoever has a cell phone, and the news will be spread from there. They can only hope they won’t get caught by one of the coaches and won’t have to be punished as a result.

Without roommates, Aliya and Viktoria come over to the Anastasias’ dorm room. They discuss everything and Anastasia Sidorova demonstrates all the cool hairstyles she has learned over the summer with Anastasia’s hair. Aliya and Viktoria watch in awe while Anastasia wonders what’s going on. Aliya shows her a photo of her hair braided and thrown across her head. She has to admit, it looks lovely.

Aliya’s phone rings and the girls jump. Anastasia accidentally tugs on Anastasia’s hair and she squeals as a result. “Hold on!” Aliya yells, slapping Viktoria’s hand lightly and playfully. “Let’s see. Oh, it just says ‘they’re staring the boooooooring speech now’. Nothing to worry about.” They return back to hair care discussions.

Her phone rings again a few minutes later. Viktoria reaches for Aliya’s phone and reads aloud, “‘Ekaterina, Ksenia, Ksenia, and Anna are going’! Wait, which ones?”

“Text her back,” Aliya orders as if she’s the queen of all Krugloye Ozero. “Now, so we don’t have to wait in suspense.”

“She says ‘Kurbatova, Semenova, Afanasyeva, Myzdrikova’.” Aliya nods in favor. Anastasia and Anastasia exchange looks at each other. It seems like a great team. Ekaterina Kurbatova, Ksenia Semenova, Ksenia Afanasyeva, and Anna Myzdrikova. Two of whom were on the ill-fated Beijing Olympic team from last year. It will be a competition all about redemption. And, a competition where somehow the girls will have to get the coaches to allow them to skip practice and watch them compete.

Anastasia works hard at all her events. Soon, the Voronin Cup competitors will be listed and Anastasia wants to be a part of the competition. And when they do, her heart falls to the floor. Once again, she’s not selected. She wants to scream. What do the coaches want to see before they allow her to compete for Russia? But Viktoria elbows her and whispers, “You can volunteer for the Voronin Cup. Like, as a gymnast who chalks the bars or something. An organizer of sorts. You’ll be good at it and you can watch us performing live. Something to consider.” As soon as Anastasia hears Viktoria’s voice, Viktoria’s gone, skipping off to the uneven bars.

She spends the whole day training and learning as usual. The gym feels cooler than before. Anastasia marches up to the head office and says to the lady behind the secretary desk, “I would like to volunteer at the Voronin Cup this year.” The woman raises her eyebrow at Anastasia, but hands her a form.

“Fill this out before this date.” The woman circles with a blue pen a bold date emblazoned on the paperwork. “Have a good day.” Her voice sounds strained and empty. Anastasia runs away as quickly as possible with the papers flying in her hands.

Anastasia doesn’t tell anyone that she’s applying to be a volunteer. Volunteering usually means that you aren’t good enough to actually compete so that’s the job you receive. She deciphers all the words in the form and writes in her personal information in pen. Even if she’s not participating, she’s very excited to see everyone competing. She’s never really seen the girls under too much pressure. An international competition like the Voronin Cup is enough to make some shine and some collapse.

She turns in the form to the secretary at the desk. A few days later, when Anastasia is working on a new dismount on the balance beam, she gets called down to the lobby. She is handed all the volunteer information. Finally, she will be attending her first competition, even if she’s not actually performing for anyone. Anastasia runs back the gym with glee marking her every step.

The World Championships this year is a bust. None of the girls are too excited to see their team. Ksenia Afanasyeva ends up being injured and doesn’t travel to London with Ksenia, Anna, and Ekaterina. They qualify in relatively high positions. Everyone ends up shouting “Davai” and “Stoi” at the television. It’s no use. None of them receive medals, just like at Beijing last year. It hurts the girls even more as they watch their team fail over and over again.

Anastasia spends a few hours in Viktoria’s room right after the all-around final. “So, we didn’t medal again,” she says.

Viktoria doesn’t face Anastasia. “Even more reasons to make the Olympics and sweep the gold medals for Russia.” Anastasia sighs in response. Their dream is still alive and well, but if this keeps going, it’ll be hard for Russia to even qualify a team to the Olympics. It’s hard to imagine Russia falling so low after the rise of the Soviets and their gymnastics abilities.

When the gymnasts from London return to Krugloye Ozero, they aren’t given a hero’s welcome. Far from it. The girls who didn’t get to go to London treat them with disdain and regret. The junior gymnasts don’t praise their work; they avoid them as much as possible. It’s hard to see the gym family fall apart like this. No support and little perseverance. No one remarks on how great the competition was or rather, how awfully it went. Everyone trains for the upcoming competitions with more fuel than before.

The autumn fades away into winter, barely pressing into anyone’s memory. Anastasia is starting to catch the eye of all the head coaches, but she still cannot attend the Voronin Cup as a competitor. The nominative registration has closed long ago.

Soon enough, the first large snowstorm of the season has come. Everyone is viewing the snow as the start of a clean slate. Maybe the losses of the past three years will wash away when the snow melts, leaving a powerful Russian team from Krugloye Ozero. The World Championships in Rotterdam next year has to be better than London. Soon, funding for the national gym will slowly go away if there’s no medals to speak of. European Championships are also coming shortly. Anastasia is hoping that she can get a spot on the junior team.

But training is not all that easy. Minor injuries and petty fights keep everyone in check. To be the best is a task only the strong can complete.

_______________________________________________________

The Voronin Cup is beginning today.

Anastasia, with her volunteer badge pinned on her red leotard, is nervous for her friends. The competition atmosphere is new and challenging. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people enter the arena at Voronin to watch the gymnasts compete. All of them have their eyes on little fairy-like Viktoria Komova, junior Voronin Cup all-around champion. She’s being interviewed by local newspapers and all the media. Anastasia smiles when Viktoria looks her way while fielding questions.

Watching the competition is the best part. Anastasia ends up running around the arena retrieving water bottles and chalk for all the competitors. It’s fun though, in her opinion. She encourages everyone with a hug or a squeeze of the hand. She learns more about the competition and with each routine, Anastasia realizes how far she is from becoming a competitor in the international field. She wasn’t expecting any of this. These vaults that could kill, uneven bars that could severe limbs, balance beam routines that could pack a powerful punch, and floor exercises perfectly timed for one’s execution.

Her coach nudges her during someone’s routine. “That’s the skill we’re hoping you can do next,” he says softly, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s going to hurt when you first try it.” Anastasia’s mouth falls wide open with shock and fear. She thinks to herself, “there is no way I can do that. Ever. How does anyone expect me to actually catch the bar again?”

Anastasia takes time off to watch Viktoria’s floor routine completely. She’s captivated from the first note of her music. Anastasia can’t take her eyes off Viktoria and her small body. No wonder she got chosen to participate in the competition. Only Anastasia’s choreography is better. Everything else falls way short.

Anastasia is not allowed to tally up the scores and verify them to see who wins what medal. It is supposedly because of her age, but she knows the real reason. She’s friends with many of the gymnasts competing. What if she spilled the results early? She would never live that down at Krugloye Ozero and she’d never get to go to any competitions in her lifetime. So she avoids the judging tables and instead, gets to talk with the girls.

“Vika, your scores were great!” Anastasia says as soon as Viktoria calms down after her last routine of the day. She makes the first move and hugs her older friend with as much happiness as she could muster. They appear to be twins, moving in unison with shining hazel eyes and beautiful blonde hair. “I am positive that you’ll be able to get a medal in more than just the all-around.”

“Spasibo, Nastya. I performed to the best of my ability, and that’s all I can say for right now,” Viktoria says. “I like having you here with me though. I’m so glad you got to volunteer today. Maybe we can compete together sometime.”

“I would love that,” Anastasia sighs. “Or maybe we could compete against each other.” Anastasia winks and Viktoria ends up in laughter.

“Very funny, Nastya. You’d probably win that anyway. No freaking contest, if you ask me.”

Anastasia looks to the flashing screen in the arena. Official scores aren’t up. She says, “European Championships are soon. Maybe then.”

“May - Nastya!” Viktoria shouts, her voice rising an octave. “Look look look!” Anastasia whips around, her hair almost pelting Viktoria in the face. Her mouth drops to the arena floor. “I did it! First in the all-around!” Anastasia and Viktoria scream at the top of their lungs and skip around in a circle with their hands in each others’.