Blind Landing (Flipped #1) by Carrie Aarons Read Free Book Online Page B

yelps at the same time Julia says, “You’re hooking up with a coach?!”
    I roll my eyes as tables around us start to stare. “Will you keep it down? Jesus. I’m not hooking up with anyone, least of all Spencer Russell.”
    “Is that why he drove you home at one in the morning the night we went to Jenkinson’s?” Peyton adds fuel to the fire.
    “What?!” Julia and Grace shriek at the same time.
    Jesus fuck. “As I seem to recall, I had to get a ride home with someone else because you were puking your brain’s out in Jared’s car. How is Jared by the way?”
    Peyton’s face turns almost the exact same color as Grace’s hair, and I chuckle. “I’m not sleeping with Spencer. I’m not sleeping with anyone. Unlike you crazies, I’m not addicted to chasing the male gymnasts up and down this place. I’m here to make the Olympic team, and nothing is getting in my way of that.”
    I spear into another Brussels sprout and chomp down as they all stare at me.
    Peyton sighs and slings her arm over my shoulder. “There’s no way you’re getting laid. But you do need to pull the stick out of your ass before you do permanent damage.”
    Julia and Grace chuckle while I roll my eyes for the hundredth time.

    * * *
    “ Y ou have all been here one month. Some more than that! But now, we are month and half from picking Olympic team. Today, we test. Test your skills, test your routines, test your strength.” Novak prattles on as all forty of the Olympic hopeful male and female gymnasts sit on the big blue floor mat.
    One of the other coaches takes over for His Royal Nastiness, giving out instructions as she paces the white out-of-bounds lines. “We are having a mock meet. Ladies, you will go in Olympic order; vault, bar, beam, floor. Men, you will also rotate through the events in Olympic order; floor, pommel horse, rings, vault, parallel bar and finally high bar. Everyone will be scored as if this were an international competition. The final rankings will show you, and us, where you stand on ultimately being selected for the Olympic team.”
    Hushed whispers start to circulate through each group of friends sitting on the floor mat, but I keep my attention solely on Novak.
    “And if you’re in the bottom two, well … there is a very good chance you could be going home.”
    The hushed whispers explode into nervous chatter as the coaches begin to separate the groups into teams of four. Five on the women’s side and five on the men’s side. They want to see who will compete well together. Because this isn’t just an exercise in singular performance, this is judging how well you’re going to work as a team in Rio.
    As usual, I’m paired up with Peyton, Julia and Grace. The fearsome foursome, or that’s what we like to call each other when we’re joking around and pretending to be badasses.
    “Fearsome foursome’s fearless leader speaking here,” Peyton motions us all in, our unappointed captain. “We are going to kick ass. We are going to slay this mock competition. We are going to stick every landing and point every toe. And rock out to our floor music. And look hella good while doing it. Got it?”
    She holds her hand in the middle of the circle and we all pile on in some cheesy, sports slideshow moment. But as cliché as it is, her speech fills me with confidence and inspiration. This is just another mock meet in the long line of tasks to the Olympics. And I’m so fucking ready.
    “Natalia, you will go first on vault. Then Peyton, Julia and Grace. You will switch the order on the next event, having Grace go first, and so on for each event until the mock meet is over.” Novak directs us, signaling that I should get ready to vault right now.
    I sprint down the runway, my calf and thigh muscles working in time with my feet. The raw power surging through me is similar to the energy I get at real competitions.
    See, I love to compete. Have always loved it. You dare me to do something, I’ll go one step further.