Esta- Born an Olympian

by EpicNinjaWriter in Oregon

Chapter One

         I hesitated, my body poised, my hands up, waiting, ready. A hush fell over the audience. I flipped expertly forwards, executing a perfect front handspring, but I didn't stop there. On my feet, I sprang forwards twice, three, four times, and the audience exploded into cheers and applause. Perfect. The judges beamed at me and scribbled quickly on their papers. I knew what they were writing: practiced, excellent, beautiful poise, correct, 10 points. I could see it all so clearly. I came back to life, back to my bedroom. I was sitting cross-legged on my blue and white bedspread. In my hands was a ribbon from the Ohawala county twelve-and-under junior gymnastics division. Red. It was red. Second place in the easiest competition. Stupid, stupid second place. I practically threw the ribbon back into the shoebox and turned away, but not before something caught my eye. It was a flat, square object. I picked it up and turned it over.

          My father smiled out of the picture, his hands on my shoulders. I was smiling too, because it had been my seventh birthday. Even after four years from that moment, I hadn't forgotten his face. He had dark, kind eyes and slightly wrinkled cheeks. His hair used to always be messy, untidy black tangles reaching just above his ears. How could he have just... left me? I know my mother had died when I was younger, but I always thought he would be there for me. Suddenly, I felt horribly overwhelmed. My stomach was starting to churn, and my breath came short and fast. Don't think about him! My brain warned, as I began to feel really sick. I hated the foster center, where I was the second oldest and all the other kids begged me to tell them stories and read to them, draw them pictures, sing, entertain them.

          But the foster center was better than here... with my foster mother, a nervous, fleeting older woman who seemed incredibly awkward around me. Maybe it was because I was almost as tall as her, or because I didn't do anything to reverse her awkwardness. I never smiled at her, and we didn't talk much. But still, she could have at least made an effort, I mean, she was the adult, not me. My thoughts went around and around again. "Esta?" I heard a scared, quiet voice float up the stairs. I sighed and leapt off my bed, shoving the shoebox into the closet not a second too late. My foster mother-Gina-stood in the doorway, as if hesitant to come in. I fixed her with one of my hardest stares, and I was pleased to see that she flinched slightly. "I was umm.. just wondering if you're ready to go school supply shopping. We can leave now." Gina almost whispered.

          "Whatever," I shrugged, and watched her hurry down the stairs. Me-1, Gina-0. School, I thought suddenly. In just one week? I didn't know if I was ready... but I would have to face the school year, being the new kid, once again. I'd done it before, stood in front of the class, smiled weakly, and introduced myself, but it didn't make being new any easier. I took the stairs two at a time and bounded into the front hall. Gina shrunk back against the wall as I came in. I tied my sneakers, pretending not to notice her. I grabbed my wallet and slipped it into my pocket. "We can go to Walmart," Gina offered. I shrugged her off and made my way out to the car, a beat-up old pickup truck. I jumped into the backseat and watched Gina's slow, steady walk to the truck. My wallet felt heavy in my pocket, but I knew that it only had twenty-four dollars in it.

           Not enough, I knew, not enough to run away. I often fantasized about running away from home-what home?- but I always had to turn down the idea. Really, there wasn't anything running away would do for me. I didn't have anything to survive on, just a measly twenty bucks. I imagine I would need at least fifty or sixty before I could even think about leaving. By now, we had pulled into the parking lot of Walmart. I went ahead of Gina, going straight to the clothes aisle. I gazed wistfully at a black leotard, knowing that it would fit me perfectly. The price tag said thirty-seven dollars. Great. Just great. Instead, I picked my way over to the school supplies aisle. I grabbed two packs of pencils, a spiral notebook, four pocket folders, and the regular art supplies. Gina wasn't exactly rich, but she could pay for this stuff.

           Avoiding Gina was easy in the large store. I couldn't help casting a quick look in the decor section. I glanced at the Amanda Gerling posters. They showed the stunning gymnast in the middle of a perfect back handspring, her smile bright and her hair swept perfectly back. Perfect. I knew I could never be like that. Or could I? It had never occured to me that I might get a chance to compete on a higher level. At least for now, I probably couldn't even wonder about it. Second in the regionals. The baby regionals, the easy easy easy ones. Supposedly. I must really suck, right? I asked myself. The answer was no. I didn't suck at gymnastics. My life sucked. But I knew I would get a chance to compete in state someday, but someday seemed awfully far away. I could do it. I just needed time.