Page 52 of Life Lessons

Trixie insists on doing my hair and make-up, so I let her. This kind of thing is important for her, and I want to allow her to be part of it. I have to admit that while I may not have looked like every other competitor, I do look great. Trix has smashed the smokey eyes that make my eyes look dark yet enhance my blue eyes. Normally, we are encouraged to put our hair up into a tight bun on the top of our head, to ensure it doesn’t interrupt our performance at any point. I tell Trix this and she just shushes me. In the end she makes two buns, one on each side of the top of my head, kinda like pigtail buns and I couldn’t help but laugh. Whenever my sister would train, she always wore her hair like this.

“How did you know Tillie used to wear her hair like this?” I ask, as I admire the look in the mirror.

“I saw a picture of her with her hair like this and even though I knew it was her, she looked so much like you do now. Happy.” Her words trail off, and there isn’t much else to say except she is right. I am happy. There will always be two very big missing pieces in my heart, but I am learning to live without them.

Trixie goes to take her seat, and as I walk around the arena with my teammates, I take in as much as I can. The atmosphere in the room is electric and there are thousands of people from all around the region that have come to cheer on their loved ones. This may only be a lower level competition, but it can lead somewhere. The winners of these events, if their score is good enough, will go on to compete at Nationals against everyone else in the country. From there, you can go on even further to compete at the European, and even worldwide level, before ultimately trying out for the Olympics. That is the goal of most of the girls here, many of whom are three or four years younger than me. My goal is just to finish the routine as best I can.

That’s why I only signed up for one event. When I performed before I always did the all around team event, but not today. Today I just wanted to choose one and focus on that, which is exactly what I did. So, as I head towards the beam area, I find all my friends are already there. I am overwhelmed with the level of support right now.

Trixie is sat there front and centre, clapping as I take my seat, Harley and Jackson on either side of her. I expected to see them, but I didn’t expect everyone else. I notice there are around thirty boys, all from the sports teams that Jackson and Harley play on. The teachers, Danny and Sam are there behind Trix, making sure the boys focus on my performance instead of how the girls look in their leotards. Then I notice next to Harley is my Dad, and the woman I now know to be his girlfriend, Casey.

Dad told me about her a few weeks ago, and at first I was angry. Casey was his secretary and they had started as an illicit affair, or at least that’s how I saw it in my head. But, once I truly gave her a chance, I found out she was there for Dad when he needed her the most. His relationship with Mum was over years ago, of course I knew that. I think they only stayed together for me and Tillie, and of course Mum couldn’t bear to risk the money or the scandal. But then when Tillie died, Dad struggled. He got no support from my Mum, and that’s where Casey came in. They started off as friends, and she helped him grieve. She is also the one that pushed him to open up about how he feels to me. She is the reason we started to mend our broken relationship, and so for that, I will always be grateful.

I sit in silence, trying to block out the crowd, but it’s difficult when they are so close. Before long they call my name and I step forward to the beam. I can feel my heart racing in my chest and with a few deep breaths I steady myself. Placing chalk where needed, I take a step back and stand up straight. I raise my hand in the air to signify to the judges that I am ready to start before taking one final glance at the audience. All my supporters appear to be on the edge of their seats, and for just a quick second, I think I see him.

Standing off to the side, leaning against the wall next to the door. He is dressed in dark jeans and a dark hoodie, with a baseball cap pulled over his face. He could be anyone, I know that. I’m sure it is just my imagination playing tricks, hoping it’s him. But there’s something about this guy. Something that makes my heart race and my chest ache. Something that is hauntingly familiar.

“Abbie! Time has started,” shouts my coach, pulling me out of my daydream. As that is what I am certain it was.

I mentally chastise myself, and taking a few deep breaths, I walk towards the edge of the beam. As I reach it I take a few large steps back, making sure to count as I go. Once I know I am in the right spot, I rub my hands together, letting the chalk get rid of any sweaty nerves, and I take some big deep breaths to centre myself. Cutting out all the noise around me, I focus on my body and just allow it to do what it needs to. My coach indicates the springboard is correctly in place and so I waste no time in beginning my run up.

Running as fast as I can, while ensuring my feet place in the exact same spot that I counted on the walk down, as soon as I reach the last number I begin to lower my hands to the floor. My round off cartwheel propels my body backward with enough force that I am able to push myself off the springboard into a flip. It’s as though I am moving in slow motion and whilst upside down I make sure to line my feet up exactly with the beam so I can stick the landing. As one foot lands on the beam, I capitalise on the momentum and continue backwards in a sequence of walkovers and flips. With each move I stick perfectly, the difficulty rating increases and my nerves settle.

Most gymnastics won’t put the hard moves at the beginning, choosing to build up into it while giving the news a chance to settle down. I have always been the opposite, needing to use the nerves and the atmosphere from the crowd to push me and propel me. Which is exactly what happens for the next couple of minutes of my routine. It flies by and with the exception of one very, very minor wobble, I landed every move perfectly. As I fly off the end of the beam with a triple twisting back, I allow my heart to soar as my body did. My feet hit the mat at the exact same time and I bend my knees to stabilise the landing. I know I have it, I know I wasn’t moving from that landing. So I throw my arms up in the air, my back straight and my head high, as the crowd around me goes wild.

Every person that is here just for me, and a few extras, all stand up and roar in excitement. I can’t keep the smile off my face. I know I have done the best routine I am capable of, and when I walk away with a silver medal and a place at the regional finals, I know the smile will be there for a long time.

As I sit in the restaurant with my father and Casey, tucking into delicious Mexican food my phone starts to ring. The number is unknown so I answer cautiously.

“Hi, is this Miss Abigail Nightingale?” a female voice asks.

“Yes, that’s me,” I reply cautiously.

“Hi, Abbie. I am from the University of Liverpool’s gymnastic department. We were at the event today and were wowed by your performance. We think you have great potential. I know that you have applied to study here, and as head of the department I just wanted to reach out personally to let you know that if you do decide to study at Liverpool, we would love to have you on the team. We can discuss scholarships and other opportunities once you have sat your exams. But we would like to do whatever it takes to help you make your decision. Obviously if you choose to attend somewhere else, that would be fine. But we just wanted to know we would be honoured to have you.”

Her words sit there for a few seconds, as I take in what she is saying. I don’t know why but Liverpool is my dream university, and to know that I can carry on competing if I go there is amazing.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot. I would love to join your team if I get the grades,” I stutter, not quite believing what I am saying.

“That’s fantastic. Please give me a call on results day and let me know what you get, we will do our best to get you on your course. I will forward you on some details about the team and my contact details will be on there. I have your email from your application. So please do contact me. Congratulations again on your amazing achievement.”

As I hang up the phone and repeat the call to my dad and Casey, I feel as though I am floating on air. Never in a million years did I expect to get this aspect of my life back, particularly after missing a year. But now that I have, I am hungry for it again. I want it all.

A small tear streams down my face and I don’t catch it quick enough before my father shuffles his chair closer and throws his arm around my shoulder. He hasn’t been afraid of showing his emotions since the hospital, and he has been much more open and honest with me. Our relationship is going from strength to strength, but I can still see the fear in his eyes. Just like right now, I see him looking at me, worried that the stray tear I couldn’t catch might escalate into something so much worse. He never knew I was depressed before and so he is crippled with fear that he might miss it again.

“Relax, Dad. This is a happy tear. Don’t get me wrong, I am sad Tillie can’t be here to celebrate with us. There will always be a part of me wondering what she would have been doing, would she have won a medal, too. But even if she didn’t, I know she would have been my biggest cheerleader. Even on days when I pissed her off, or stole her leotard, we would fight and argue, but as soon as each other performed it was like nothing else mattered except cheering for our twin. I always wanted her to have the world, and I know she felt the same about me. So I am going to get the world, not just for myself, but for Tillie, too.”

My dad hugs me tight and this time when the tears fall, I know they are happy tears. He holds me tight before whispering in my ear. “You better get good grades then because I have a feeling Liverpool is going to have everything you want and then some.”

We chuckle along with Casey, and go back to tucking into the delicious food, as I focus my mind on my new goal. Liverpool.

Exams pass quickly,thank fuck. I was nervous for each and every one of them. I walk in knowing I have revised all I could, and I walk out thinking that my future has just been flushed away. I am convinced that I have failed them all. So when I go back home for a few weeks for summer, I research all my options. I have to get myself to Liverpool, even if it means resitting some subjects.

The day we collect our results finally arrives, and in true Willowmead style they are having a graduation ceremony on the same day. Even though it’s traditionally not done for high schools, it’s a tradition Willowmead has had for many years. Parents pay a lot of money to send their kids here, they want the pomp and ceremony. So, as the hall fills with parents and family friends, the students gather nervously waiting for them to hand out our grades before we can pick up our robes.

We form a queue in alphabetical order, ready to get our grades and my heart races. I notice Trixie is a couple of people in front of me and she is bobbing up and down from one foot to the other, her nervous shuffle, as I call it. My hands are starting to sweat and I can hear my heart racing in my ears. Fuck, I have never been so nervous to open an envelope. With each step I take closer to the table the more nervous I get. That’s when I notice Mr Thornton and Mr Wormald walking towards me.

“Miss Nightingale, would you mind coming with us for a second?” Mr Thornton asks with a small smile on his face. Fuck!

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