3 Weeks 2 Days

Three Weeks Two Days
Thursday

Viv
I ran as fast as I could down the street. It wasn’t amazingly fast seeing as I was wearing flip-flops, but I was late. Again.
And, I was most likely holding Layla up.
You see, Livvy has this thing for duo routines this year. We don’t perform them in competitions, of course, but for the bi-monthly GCA Performances.
GCA (Gymnastics & Cheerleading Academy) Performances started out as a progress check for parents to see how their child was doing. Lately, they’ve been turned into elaborate and formal shows out there for the public.
And the Starz just have to perform.
So Livvy got obsessed with duo floor routines, and for some real stupid reason, she paired me up with Layla. That’s almost--but not quite--as stupid as pairing me and Bethie.
Floor is my least favorite event. It’s not exciting and thrilling, and it takes way too long. Alongside Layla, my moves look simple and childish.
Livvy thinks that I should like floor best because I rock at tumbling passes. I have a really powerful round-off, and I always win the handspring-a-thon. But then Livvy say floor is the one event you can express yourself in. I totally agree. Fitting, then, that Livvy chooses flowing, soft, and melodic music for my routine. Seriously, if I had wanted more ballet music, I would have taken ballet. If I could choose my own music, it would be fast, energetic, and as impulsive as music gets, just like me.
Livvy says the main reason she paired me with Layla was because she was going for the “opposites” look. In my opinion —which is usually disregarded— Livvy should have paired me with blond Nicole, or even Bethie—which would have been a total disaster, so I’m not exactly complaining. And she should have put the two bests, Layla and Manda, together. Then I wouldn’t look so bad.
But even I have to admit; Layla and I were perfect opposites. Not only in appearance, but also personality and style.
Livvy had told me not to be late because she wanted Layla and me to go over our routine one last time before the performance tomorrow. Then, she wanted to go over competition routines. Unfortunately for her, Layla, and myself, I was running late thanks to my mom’s old car finally breaking down. It just had to be today.
I burst into the gym before shedding my street clothes in the locker room. I didn’t want Livvy yelling at me for not coming. Livvy sighed and gestured for me to head back to the locker room.
“Car broke down,” I yelled over my shoulder as I turned back. “It wasn’t my fault today.”
I heard Kay giggle, but other than that no one said anything.
I changed and warmed-up and stretched as quickly as I’ve ever done. As soon as I jumped up from the hard cheer floor, Livvy shepherded Layla and me onto the big, springy, blue, Olympic-sized floor. We took our places in opposite corners and the music began.
The piece was titled “Luna et Soleil.” Moon and Sun. I think I was the moon because of my black hair and the dark of night, but it was impossible to tell.
I messed up a few times, interrupting the fluency of the routine to scan my surroundings. There wasn’t much to see. It didn’t matter if the routine wasn’t perfect, anyway. This routine wouldn’t be scored. Nothing bad could come out of it.
At one point I noticed Livvy; she was watching Layla intently, clearly enjoying the sight. She didn’t look to me until a tumbling pass, which I flew through.
I could never shake the thought that I was a disappointment to Livvy. A disgrace to the team. And especially in a routine intertwined with Layla. Layla seemed to fly through the whole thing. I seemed to take off, land, take off, land. It was embarrassing, but I knew the team was used to it.
I was overjoyed when the last chord of the music died out and Livvy directed us to vault—my personal best and favorite due to the exciting thrill of running and taking off to soar through the air.
“That was good,” Livvy assured me as I made my way to the vaulting box. “Not your best, but not your worst, either. And I know you’ll kick butt on vault.”
what is kind of puzzling is that even though I’m one of the best at vault, Layla always beats me at competitions. So does Manda. Sure, I can maintain third, but someday I really want to win big time. Like that’s ever going to happen.
We warmed up with handspring timers, as usual. But today was a good day. Livvy was going to work with us individually today.
By the time we moved on to beam, I was in a pretty good mood. Considering how much I hate and suck at beam, that’s a first.
Everyone tells me that the only reason I stink so much on the beam is that I’m too impatient. I can’t help but agree.
Beam is definitely the most graceful of the four events, and if there’s something I lack, it’s the grace and poise needed to master the challenging event. I have balance, at least. But seriously, how is it possible to flip on a four-inch-wide beam that’s four feet off the ground.
Layla, Manda, and Bethie —the three that are best at beam— got to start out with back handspring step outs, while the rest of us were stuck warming up with stupid cartwheels.
I swore as I fell for the sixth time in a row. Livvy sighed, but didn’t say anything.
“Such language,” Kay teased.
“What are you taking in school?” Nicole added. “Swearing-as-a-second-language?”
“French, actually,” I shot back. “And BTW, fuck means seal in French.”
“It’s un phoque,“ Bethie corrected. “And you said ‘shit’, not ‘fuck’, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Whatevs,” I waved her off impatiently. “I’ve made my point.”
“Which was?” Bethie asked. “Viviana, you had no point.”
I sighed. “Why can’t you call me ‘Viv’ or ‘Vivi’ like the rest of the world?”
“Because I don’t like to,” Bethie insisted. “Viviana sounds better.”
“Girls, enough chit-chat,” Livvy cut in. She clapped twice. “Chop, chop.”
I reluctantly turned back to my task, now of back-walkovers.

Heading back to the locker room, I listened to Layla, Kay and Nicole criticizing my stupid bars routine.
“You have to keep your toes pointed,” Layla insisted.
“And try to glide, not swing,” Kay added.
“And you need to work on your landing,” Nicole put in.
“Lightly land—“ they all chorus.
“—and stick it,” I snapped, cutting them off. “I know.” I waved them off and quickened my stride.