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Shit.
Julie winced at the pain that shot up her ankle the moment she landed her double back handspring. What the hell? She'd always nailed that landingโalways. And now she hadn't even had an audience. At least she didn't think so. Her trainer was nowhere to be seenโthank God. If he knew she'd injured herself, he would only make her do the routine until she could stick the landing with an injured ankle, she was sure. And right now, Julie would rather take a break, maybe find some ice. Perhaps it was the pressure that had made her unstable. The World Championship was only three months away, and if anything went wrong, she could kiss any medal goodbye. Or maybe it was just the result of having skipped lunch. It didn't really matter what caused it, she just had to make it to the changing room before her trainer saw her limping. Not that it was super obvious; Julie did her best to hide the pain. She was almost there when she heard him call her name from behind. Her hand was still clutching the handle when she turned her head. He must have seen her limp. "I'm fine," she assured him, forcing a faint smile to her lips, masking her pain. "I just need five minutes." Well, that was a lie. She'd need a lot more if she wanted to get back on the beam without risking injuring herself further. But she also didn't want him to join her in the changing rooms, nor take her to his office. Not after what happened last time. "I'll be out in a few." She wouldn't. |
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Vincent Maddox was a man of stern gazes, and even sterner behaviors. Truth be told it was what had made him an Olympic champion in his youth, and what made him an exceptional coach in his retirement from the sport. There was never a more resolute, attentive, and passionate man and numerous parents clamored for him to take their little darling under his wing and give her the skills she needed to fly. Of course, on the other side of the coin, Vincent was a ruthless, relentless, and harsh taskmaster who expected nothing but excellence from those under his tutelage. He gave them his all, he expected that they would provide the same, no matter what obstacles stood in the path of their glory. Admittedly there had been rumors that occasionally stirred amongst the ranks of those who participated in gymnastics that his methods were not far removed from torture, and that on occasion dalliances had occurred between students and himself. On that front Vincent had never spoken on the subject, seeing no need to spur gossip on the subject matter, and apparently allowing the results to stand for themselves. Under his guidance champion after champion emerged, medalists placed at every competition. What were a few hardships when it came to the concept of eternal glory in the record books?
And Julie, Julie was one of those destined for greatness. As long as she got her silly little head in the game. Her behavior at training had been abysmal, even if she was attempting to put her best foot forward, and Vincent was ever so slowing growing tired of her missteps and mismanagement. Arguments had already occurred with her physical therapist, her mother, and one of the assistant coaches regarding the young womanโs progress, and now from the sidelines he had watched her make an amateurish mistake that she should have been absolutely ashamed of. What the hell was going through her mind? Making a small notation on his clipboard, an old affectation in the world of modern electronics, he watched her limp out of the room with a lame shrugging off of her piss mediocre performance. In frustration he tossed the clipboard onto a nearby seat he followed afterward. Storm would not be the right word, for Vincent never yelled, there was no need. His behavior was simply intense, and where he walked others feared to tread. Nobody asked a damn thing of him as he passed by and knowing him, he probably would have followed her into the changing rooms even if she had turned that handle and stepped inside. But she at least had the courtesy to stop and reply to what was obviously a childish denial. One hand came up to point a finger into Julieโs face, her rather aesthetically pleasing face, while the other remained at his side. Though she had felt that other hand before, make no mistake. His voice was metal given life, like slick molten steel, serving up both heat and cold all in one unique tenor. โYou know the rules. We donโt walk away when we fall. You do it, and you do it again, until youโve goddamn got it right. Now get your ass back out there, or do you have something else to say?โ |