Balance (Off Balance Book 1) (2 page)

Jaeger
Performed on bars, a gymnast swings from a front Giant and lets go of the bar, into a front flip and catches the bar again. Jaeger can be done in the straddle, pike, and layout position, and is occasionally performed in a tucked position.

Kip
The most commonly used mount for bars, the gymnast glides forward, pulls their feet to the bar, then pushes up to front support, resting their hips on the bar.

Layout
A stretched body position.

Layout Timers
A drill that simulates the feel of a skill, or the set for a skill without the risk of completing the skill.

Lines
Straight, perfect lines of the body.

Overshoot, also known as Bail
A transition from the high bar facing the low bar. The gymnast swings up and over the low bar with a half-turn to catch the low bar ending in a handstand.

Pike
The body bent forward at the waist with the legs kept straight, an L position.

Pirouette
Used in both gymnastics and dance to refer to a turn around the body’s longitudinal axis. It is used to refer to a handstand turning moves on bars.

Rips
In gymnastics, a rip occurs when a gymnast works so hard on the bars or rings they tear off a flap of skin from their hand. The injury is like a blister that breaks open.

Release
Leaving the bar to perform a skill before re-grasping it.

Relevé
This is a dance term that is often used in gymnastics. In a relevé, the gymnast is standing on toes and has straight legs.

Reverse Grip
A swing around the bar back-first with arms rotated inwards and hands facing upwards.

Round-off
A turning movement, with a push-off on one leg, while swinging the legs upward in a fast cartwheel motion into a ninety degree turn where legs come together before landing on both feet. The lead-off to a number of skills used to perform on vault, beam, and floor.

Salto
Flip or somersault, with the feet coming up over the head and the body rotating around the axis of the waist.

Sequence
Two or more skills performed together, creating a different skill or activity.

Stick
To land, and remain standing without requiring a step. A proper stick position is with legs bent, shoulders above hips, arms forward.

Straddle Back
An uneven bar transition done from a swing backwards on the high bar over low bar, while catching the low bar in a handstand.

Tap Swing
Performed on bars, an aggressive tap toward the ceiling in a swinging motion. This gives the gymnast the necessary momentum to swing around the bar to perform a Giant or to go into a release move.

Toe On
Swing around the bar with body piked so much the feet are on the bar.

Tsavdaridou
Performed on beam, a round-off back handspring with full twist to swing down.

Tuck
The knees and hips are bent and drawn into the chest, the body is folded at the waist.

Twist
The gymnast
rotates around the body’s longitudinal axis, defined by the spine. Performed on all apparatuses.

Yurchenko
Round-off entry onto the board, back handspring onto the vaulting table and Salto off the vault table. The gymnast may twist on the way off.

“A
bsolutely not!” My father’s harsh voice boomed around his home office.

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say,” I argued my point, not settling for anything less than his full attention.

“I don’t care what you have to say. You can talk until you’re blue in the face. You are not moving to New Hampshire. End of discussion.”

“Dad, just listen. Gymnastics—”

“I’ve made my decision and it’s not changing.” He picked up his pen and focused on the papers in front of him. “Now, please, I have work to do.”

Devastation sucker punched me in the gut. I was surprised by how unreasonable he was being in not letting me speak. The East Coast was home to one of the best gymnastics facilities in the country and I’d prove it to him. My weeks of research wouldn’t be wasted. I would not give up, I just had to try harder.

“It’s renowned for its coaching and athletes,” I pressed on.

“No.” He gave me his infamous look, the one capable of making a grown man flinch.

My future was at stake and I had to fight for it. As much as I would miss my current gym, it was no longer useful to me. There were only so many extra hours of conditioning and private classes I could take. Advancement in this sport required the proper training, and I couldn’t get it at Palm Beach Gymnastics.

“Transferring to another gym isn’t unheard of. A lot of families send their gymnasts to train at better facilities.” I stood my ground.

“Adrianna Francesca Rossi!” His tone and anger bled into my frustration, but it didn’t stop me.

“Just hear me out! Please,” I pleaded, on the verge of tears. My mother would no doubt sniff them in the air and be on me like a bloodhound within seconds. Tears showed weakness, and a Rossi was never weak—at least according to her.

Dad didn’t respond. Instead, he stared right through me.

Blowing out a loud, aggravated breath, I stood up and peered through the large window in his office which overlooked the expansive, lush lawn in our backyard. My gaze drifted over to the right, catching the beautiful colors of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the pool. We lived in one of the most elite neighborhoods on the prestigious Palm Beach Island. We had everything money could buy. Everything except a great one-of-a-kind gymnastics coach that could help push me closer to achieving my dream.

Turning back to my dad, I took in the flare of his nostrils and stiff jaw. He had become eerily still. The room grew cold and goose bumps broke out on my skin. I knew this side of him, and it wasn’t pretty. This was a side nobody dared to test.

I had pushed too far.

“Go,” he said. “Now.” His voice quiet and calm before dismissing me to return to his work.

I fled his office and retreated to my bedroom, slamming the door just as the tears started to fall.

Gymnastics was everything to me—it was my heart and soul, the air I breathed. It was the one thing that allowed me to be me. To express myself creatively in the way I chose, not how someone else decided for me. I’d rotated between eating, sleeping, and flipping for as long as I could remember. The competiveness, the challenge of mastering a new skill. The way I defied gravity—my heart soaring, the sound of applause, the gasp from the audience—made the sacrifice worth every bit of pain and manipulation my body went through. Nothing could take that feeling away.

It was the one place I could be free from the restraints my family’s name had on me.

My name is Adrianna Rossi. I’m fifteen, and a competitive gymnast. Elite gymnast, to be exact. Or I would be, as soon as I had the right coach.

I had completed all levels required according to USA gymnastics in order to move forward and test for elite. It was only a matter of time before I held the coveted rank. I trained day in and day out for this. My days consisted of four-hour training sessions in the gym, a tutor to homeschool me, and a private chef to prepare my calculated caloric meals.

As I fell onto my bed, devastation hit me hard. The rejection crushed my heart and it felt like my dreams were slowly being ripped away.

Like most hungry gymnasts, my ultimate goal was the Olympics.

If I graphed the training along with my age, I could possibly compete in my first Olympic Games by twenty.
Possibly
, being the key word. While twenty was still considered youthful by normal standards, it was ancient in the gymnastics world. Though, it wasn’t unheard of to compete in The Games at that age. One of my favorites, Svetlana Khorkina, competed until she was twenty-five years old and in three Olympics, the first being when she was seventeen. Oksana Chusovitina, competed in six Olympic Games, also starting at seventeen. So my goal wasn’t completely farfetched, I just needed the proper training. I was good, but I wanted to be great. And the only way to be great was to train with the best.

Though I was young, I wasn’t naive. I knew what kind of mental and physical abuse my body would go through in order to reach the professional level. I needed a drill sergeant with a sharp eye.

Needed it, and wanted it.

I didn’t fully understand why my dad objected to me leaving. I knew he thought of gymnastics as a hobby, but he’d always done anything to placate me. He never told me no and usually threw money at whatever my heart desired. It wasn’t as if he spent much time at home anyway. Frank Rossi was too occupied with expanding and maintaining his real estate empire. Rossi Enterprises was one of the top developers, with properties worldwide. He left my mom in charge of raising my brother and me, which was a joke.

When I first began gymnastics at three years old, my mother used to sit at my practices and attend my meets. It was all about appearances back then, but I was young so she really didn’t have much of a choice. However, the older I got, the less of an effort she made. I think the last meet she came to I was twelve years old. Mom was usually too busy with her charity work or trying to keep my older brother, Xavier, out of the media.

At first their lack of interest bothered me. I wanted them to want to be there, to watch me tumble and flip and balance on the beam. To see me move up to another level or stick a dismount without wobbling. I craved my parents’ attention like all children do, but after years of begging, I eventually gave up and learned to adapt to their indifference. Nowadays, Mom rarely came to practice, and neither of my parents attended many competitions.

Their actions forced me to be independent, something I quickly learned to value. That being said, I refused to give up. I wouldn’t let anything, or anyone, take my goal away from me.

I
WASN’T SURE
how much time had passed when I heard a faint knock on my door. I cracked my eyes open and was surprised by the darkness surrounding me. Another louder knock sounded, and I prayed it wasn’t my mom.

“Yeah?”

“Ana?” Relief coursed through me at the sound of my dad’s voice. “Can I come in?”

A fatigued sigh rolled off my lips as I sat up on the edge of my bed. “Come in.”

Dad opened the door, flipping on the light switch as he walked in. A quick glance at my reflection in the mirror on the adjacent wall had me pulling back in shock. My face was blotchy and swollen from crying. Hair lay stuck and matted to my face. I was a hot mess.

I squinted at my dad, trying to adjust to the light, the sorrow in his heavy eyes showed. It was clear he was remorseful over his decision and the way he reacted. The last time I’d seen him, he was dressed in a clean, crisp shirt and tie. Now the tie was gone, a few buttons were undone and his sleeves were rolled up. He was disheveled and worn out, and I knew I was the reason. I’d acted like a spoiled brat and argued with him, something I always tried to refrain from. Usually it was my older brother who caused so much turmoil for my parents, not me.

“Yes, Dad?” I tried to lighten the tension. A soft smile charmed his face. I was a daddy’s girl through and through, and he knew it.

“May I sit with you?” I nodded, and he sat next to me, the mattress dipping a little. He moved the tangled hair from my cheeks and eyed me carefully.

“You look like you’ve been crying, which can only mean I’m at fault.”

I flattened my lips and cast my eyes down. “I may have been.”

“I apologize, sweetheart.” He ran a tired hand down his face. “About the gymnastics...”

“Yeah?”

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t want you to do it, it’s that I don’t want you moving so far away on your own. You’re still young and the world is a dangerous place. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t be able to get to you fast enough.”