The One

I’m the one…

Who tells Evan to follow me out of the gym, we need to talk, who tells him what just happened, who stares off into the distance to avoid crying in front of him for the second time in a week, whose eyes are puffing up like the toe I stubbed doing a full into the resi pit, and are getting redder than my cheeks when I start tsuking into the hot foam pit in the middle of the summer, whose nose is running faster than I ever do for my vault or floor routine.

What’s wrong? Nothing, are you sure because it doesn’t seem like nothing.

No, I’m not sure.

I’m the one…

            Whose best friend is graduating, leaving me in my own chalk and sweat, wisps of bangs, hanging in my eyes, sticking to my temples, she’s leaving me sitting in leotards that are older than most of my friendships here, and in better condition than most of those friendships as well, I will sit somewhere alone in the corner of a pit, whispering gossip to Katie’s ghost because that’s all we do.

            We talk about how Danny kissed Paige at the wedding, how Danny is too judgmental to ever get a girl that would actually tolerate him long enough to date him, how Tori isn’t a fit president for the club, how money has come up missing from the club, at the hands of Tori, about who stole my Miami Cup shirt, who had the opportunity to do it, and who had the motive to do it.

            Yes, we sit in corners of the gym whispering to each other, we will look up every now and then, and making eye contact with those we shouldn’t.

            We talk about our teammates.

            We talk about our roommates.

            We talk about the events when both collide

            And we talk about our personal lives, our sex lives, or lack of, we figure out how to handle relationships, as Tyler is going out to the bars every weekend, but telling Katie to leave the parties, we ask Ethan for coffee, which will never happen because I leave for camp before I get the chance to meet up with him, and ruin the friendship while I am there.

            We talk about the events of nationals, how the people we call friends sat around the “party room” of the hotel, and decided that we hate everyone on the team because we talk about them. If only they knew that they are more family than the people related to me by blood. We look up from our little corners of the room, and snicker, they think they see us pointing fingers.

           

I’m the one scared of a skill she has been doing for three years now. I jump to the bar, swing under, some smeared chalk falls into my eyes, my legs, which are supposed to be jammed through my arms, are caught by my toes. I hang for a minute and fall to the ground, as my toenails turn purple. The only time I ever really go for it is when someone moves the springboard out from behind me after I jump.

           

I’m the one who got tricked by her best friend into drinking too much at her twentieth birthday. It’s just one shot! Katie says, handing me the pink glass, which led to me kissing Mason, in the kitchen, with the lights out, only after screaming in his face.

            Which led to me being confused, do I like him, or is he my friend? I definitely liked his lips, they were big, and soft, I like the way he smells, but God, he’s annoying. He doesn’t shut up about gymnastics, then registers for nineteen credit hours and complains about them, and who cares if a front tuck front tuck is considered a double salto pass or not? It meets the requirement, so stop talking about it.

            Which led to him keeping his distance, ignoring texts, snapchats, calls, and staying on opposite sides of the gym at all times.

            Which led to me forced hugs at meets when he decided to leave Miami early, Katie was already drunk, and I needed someone who would stay behind with me because my back hurt too much to go out. I ended up going out anyway, leaving the ice pack and the heating pad on the bed, which was a mistake. In fact when we went out, we walked a mile to the party, by the time we got there, I hated Katie for making me walk a mile while limping from my back screaming at me as it’s being stabbed by some possible budging disc, for making me go to the party, and then walking fifty yards in front of me, and I called Stephanie who goes to school at Miami. She took me to Spot’s, and my night got better from there because somehow whenever I meet her friends, I click with them really well, but it’s never the other way around, with anybody.

            The fact that Mason and I are no longer friends to the Sophomore Squad being formed at Miami, when Mason was avoiding me, so he spent his time with Michaela and Deshawn, they called themselves the Sophomore Squad, curtsey of Mason, even though Katie and I were sophomores and not in it.

           

I’m the one who sits in Katie’s shadow, as she gets the credit for being Vice President last year. Actually it was me who was Vice President, but nobody acknowledges it because I didn’t do anything. I didn’t carry twenty-fve pound boxes full of warm ups and team t-shirts across campus I didn’t come to the bank to help switch the cards over, I didn’t help host parties, or make decisions on the car to nationals, and I definitely didn’t do anything to get Katie to nationals. Maybe I didn’t do anything because I was getting tired of the clubs drama. The miscommunication, the freshmen asking me, the vice president, what our hotel rooms were. Becca, what rooms are we staying in? I’m not sure where to put my bags. I’m sorry Sarah and Kristen, but Rachel hasn’t told me anything. You can follow me to one of the rooms, but I don’t know where any of the other rooms are. What time is the party tonight? They ask, are we going to get dinner? What time are we leaving for the meet? What session do we compete, is the vault the same as the one at the gym? Will we be able to move the bar settings? What corner do I start in for my floor routine? I don’t know, I’m the Vice President and was told nothing. Maybe it was all too much, the screaming in the face, that led to the kiss that led to the messed up friendship, that led to the three main members of the Sophomore Squad forming, while I was busy taking care of Katie forcing wine and cranberry juice combo down my throat, while I was busy with essays about photographers, making videos of crouching the beam for the club, writing them into stories that happen in the gym, telling stories of what happened over the summer when Bethany went to Mexico and cast a demon out of a woman, figuring out what to minor in, graphic communications I guess, making videos of OSU, making videos of Miami, making Videos of GVSU, club fund raisers, making club decisions on dues and t-shirt amounts, who gets a new leotard since funding is no more, how much do we charge the freshman, and what about our flights to nationals for 2016. Come on, come party with me! Katie begs, but my back hurts! I yell, but she pulls me out. Come on! Have some fun!

           

I ditch Katie at Nationals because my Dad is a drunk, and I don’t wanna drink. It’s currently tearing my family apart, why would I want anything to do with it? I’m tired of the pornographic images I receive at four in the morning, receiving the texts demeaning my mother, calling her out for being too tired to clean, the comments about my mother, and their problems in the bedroom, my Mom calling me to ask for advice, getting the news from my sister that I can’t go home, Mom, Beth and Josh had to leave my Dad at the house, they are living with Aunt Pam and Uncle Andy for a couple of weeks. I’m tired of being touchy-feely with people I roll my eyes at only because I had a few glasses of something us kids call “adult drinks”. So I’m sorry if I don’t want to drink.

            I ditch Katie at Nationals because Katie has been sober long enough to be hung over and compete.

            Because she doesn’t shut up about how great of a roommate I am.

            Because she is strangling me in this embrace right now.

            Because she was flinging barbeque chicken at me during the banquet.

            Because Mason wiped her red, meat covered hands off, while I video taped it.

            Because I don’t wanna be around her anymore.

            Because I got a call saying Grandpa is gasping for breath.

            Because he might not make it through the night.

            Because I wish Katie would be my friend instead of my drinking buddy.

            Because I’m forcing myself into a new squad. Squad up.

            Because she’s graduating December 2015, and laughs about it.

            Because she’s planning on leaving, Michigan to North Carolina.

            Because she doesn’t care that she’s leaving me to fend for myself in this club.

            Because graduating is all she talks about.

            Because she is my best friend and I don’t want to hate her by the time Nationals is over.

            I’m the one that when she ditches Katie, she forces herself into the Sophomore Squad, hello four new “best friends.”

            The school year ends and the official Junior Squad forms, I’m in.

           

I’m the one who said she’s gonna stay single, and then falls in love with Evan.          

           

I’m the one who invites her boyfriend’s roommate to club events, then stomps out of the gym when teammates say that he can’t come.

           

I’m the one who yells at Mason in her room because I’m going to OSU and Miami, whether I pay for my flight or not. I’m sorry, but I’ve paid my competition fees, the money is coming. It’s due the forth, and I turn twenty-one on the fifth, there is nothing I can do; I cannot request the money any sooner. I yell, using my hands to show the deadlines. No, it does not make any sense for me not to be able to compete just because I will be a couple days late. I don’t care Mason, I’m competing whether Rachel is okay with it or not.

           

I’m the one who complains about lack of communication, is told that she has to be at the meetings even though I just take care of the social media, I never get told the time or place of the meetings, I don’t get any say in the decisions that is made as a club, I just get to sit and listen, when Tori is asked who was vice president last year, she says that she did it by herself, okay.

            Am I even a part of the now Junior Squad?

            Was I ever a part of the Junior Squad?

            Don’t say that Becca, they love you. Evan wipes away my tear as I stand outside of the gym, my bare feet on the cold tile floor.

            Evan, to them, I’m just…

           

I’m the one who makes videos that are too long and tells people that they are pretty on Instagram.