Tumbling by Caela Carter Page B

with her. She was taller than her height should allow her to be. And her tumbling looked like dancing.
    When she struck her final pose, Grace and Leigh clapped along with the rows of fans in the stands, their jaws dropped in awe.
    Leigh’s smile was gone. “Shit,” she breathed.
    Grace started adding up past scores in her head. Leigh could still beat Monica on floor. Monica’s performance was close to perfect, but Leigh’s difficulty was greater, so her maximum potential score was higher. Still, Leigh wouldn’t be able to blow her away. At the end of the day, Monica was likely to still be ahead of Leigh.
    And Monica was not going to the Olympics.
    Leigh was the national champion (thanks to Grace’s fluttery heart), so, to a lot of people, it seemed like Katja had to choose Leigh no matter how she performed today and tomorrow.
    But Leigh was not only far from second—she was behind Wilhelmina and Georgette and Maria and Monica. Monica!
    â€œIf all these girls beat me . . .” Leigh trailed off, but she didn’t have to finish the thought. Grace knew the end of the sentence.
    Katja had some leverage as to whom she chose, but these trials were on television. If Leigh came in towardthe end of the all-arounders, Katja and the Olympic Committee would not be able to explain picking her. So they wouldn’t.
    Grace paused her clapping and turned to study her best friend’s profile. A thought went zinging through her brain, jolting her from her skull to her fingertips. A thought that she didn’t like as much as she thought she would.
    What if this meet isn’t about beating Leigh? What if I’m going to the Olympics without her?
    LEIGH
    Leigh stood panicked as Monica saluted the judges and exited the podium to a storm of applause. Her heart hammered with anger, fear, shame.
    â€œMonica is going to beat me,” she whispered to herself. She said it out loud. Of course. Stupidly.
    Good-bye, Olympics. Good-bye, lifelong dream.
    â€œUse it,” Grace said into her ear.
    Leigh’s head jerked toward her. She’d forgotten she was standing next to her friend. “What?” she asked.
    â€œUse it,” Grace said again, a twisted look spreading across her face. “Look at her. She can’t beat you.” They watched Monica’s smile disappear like a switch had been flicked as Ted pulled her off the podium. “You’re the national champion and
Monica Chase
is . . .her. You haven’t peaked. You’re not done. Get angry. Let it motivate you.”
    â€œYou’re trying to help me?” Leigh blabbed before she could stop herself. Her blood was zipping quickly through her veins. If Grace was trying to help her, she was in trouble. Her voice was still motoring. As usual, Leigh was powerless to stop it. “How did everything get this bad so fast? How did this happen?” How was her Olympic dream in doubt?
    â€œGet ready,” Grace said before Leigh could speak again. “You’re next.”
    Damn it
, Leigh thought.
    She rushed to her gym bag for a final sip of water and tried to re-clasp some of her hair clips. Phil came up behind her and put his palm on the spot where her left shoulder became her neck.
    He said only one word. “Focus.”
    Leigh shrugged him off and stared into her gym bag until she felt the adrenaline build through her veins again. She had to be That Girl when her music began filling the stadium.
    It’s simple
, she told herself as she climbed the steps to the floor podium.
I’m better than Monica. I’m better than Kristin and Georgette. I might be a little better than Grace.
    Leigh dipped her feet into the chalk and watched the white powder spread over her peach skin.
    Leigh was a winner. Monica was not. Littlewedgie-picking Monica should not be intimidating Leigh.
    By the time Leigh stood in her opening pose in the corner of the blue mat awaiting the first notes of the