For the Win (12 page)

Chapter 29

After our night trip to the pharmacy, Melina softens.

The change is subtle, but I know this girl well, and the hard lines near her eyes no longer appear when I sit across from her at the breakfast table. Her shoulders don’t tense when our paths cross en route to the weight room. Once, when she finds me dizzy and dehydrated after a run, she grabs my bag and water, shoving stale candy into my mouth like a well-trained nurse. Her fingers taste sweet. I inhale the fruity scent of her shampoo when she helps me off the ground, ignoring the memories her smell triggers.

Our final week at the center is spent on light training and meeting with officials. We get our shiny, new uniforms: red, white and blue. Dominic and I get new shirts and gloves to wear when the photographers call us over, individually as well as a group. Veronica and James are less visible these days, holed up in an office while the photographers do their work. In fact, I spot Veronica just three times—once on a run, once sharing a smile with Dominic as he leaves the office, and once through the cracked door as she interviews Melina.

“What was that about?” I ask that night over a plate piled high with meat and veggies.

“What was what about?” Melina’s gnawing on a piece of bread. Beside her, Allie shakes cheese over her pasta as Rory watches, muttering something that makes her chuckle.

“You meeting with the film people,” I say. “You know, Veronica.”

The three of them exchange glances, and Rory clears his throat. “They’ve brought us all in, mate.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” I feel a profound sense of relief. Maybe the documentary stuff on Allie and me won’t be as noticeable.

“I saw Dom in there...I figured she must be doing something about the team overall.” I take a bite of broccoli.

Melina laughs. “Uh, no. It was definitely about the two of you. That woman is focused.” She points her fork in my direction. “On you in particular.”

My cheeks heat despite myself, and I roll my eyes at her assumption. “We’ve just gotten to know each other over the last couple of weeks.” I look at my sister for assistance. “Right, Al?”

“The interviews have been fairly in depth,” she agrees. “It’s hard not to feel a connection. Veronica is really good at her job.”

The conversation shifts from there, and after we clear the table I corner Melina just outside the dining hall. Wrapping my fingers around her arm, I pull her gently to the side. “About Veronica—“

“I was kidding, Julian. If she likes you, that’s fine. It’s not exactly uncommon for women to fall for your whole…
thing,
you know.”

Yes, she uses air quotes.

I ignore the jab. “Did she ask you anything that made you uncomfortable? Because if she did I’ll get her to back off.”

“She didn’t. It was fine.” The way her arms cross over her chest, however, imply something different.

“Look, I’ve been discreet about our relationship and what happened, even though she’s pressed for more.”

Melina snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure you were.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you acted like a first-class dick, and I’m sure you’d rather keep that on the DL than for the rest of the world to see.”

Just like that, any progress we’ve made seems to evaporate. I search her face, her eyes, for the truth behind her words. “Is that what you really think?”

She rubs her hands over her face, worn out—from training, from me. From us. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Melina turns to leave, but I stop her once more. “Tell Veronica whatever you want. Be honest. Lie. Throw me under the bus. I don’t care. I just want you to feel peace about all of this and to go into the games with a clear heart.”

Allie and Rory round the corner with a group of athletes, including Tyson Rickman. He and Melina spot each other right away, and it doesn’t escape me that her face perks up when he approaches.

“Everything okay?” Allie asks, watching me watch Melina.

“Yeah.” I glance at Rory. “You packed yet?”

“Nah, going to do it now.”

“Me too.” I nod at Allie. “See you in the morning, okay?”

“Night, Jules.”

I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tight, happy to have someone to hold on to.

*

We’ve got five days between training and heading to Brazil. I spend two of them driving Sally from Colorado to Atlanta, and two sleeping, packing and being smothered by my mother. Allie and I train lightly, running together in the mornings. On our final night, the whole community throws us a party at the local YMCA. It’s a little overwhelming at first, but everyone is so excited and so proud that I warm up into it. I see faces I haven’t seen in years. The part of me that lived alone for so long forgets, sometimes, how it used to be, when I was constantly surrounded by friends. Tonight feels like old times, especially when Melina slips in the door. She and Allie are immediately inseparable, and while it stings that there’s been distance between us, I’m relieved we’re back to how we used to be.

Well, kind of. Back to how we used to be—minus the physical stuff.

I’m changing for a useless three hours of sleep when I remember I left my notebook in the van. Worried I’ll leave it before our early flight, I head down the flight of stairs, yawning.

It’s after midnight, so when I open the door quietly and see someone lying on my mattress in the dark I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Holy—Melina?”

“Hey.” She stares at the ceiling, barely glancing in my direction.

“Everything okay?”

“I just needed some quiet, you know?” Now she looks at me, eyes skirting from my face to my bare chest...and then lower. For once there’s no hate or regret in her eyes—just a sort of sleepy wistfulness.

I nod, yawning again. “It’s been a busy day and tomorrow will be worse.”

Crickets and cicadas fill the night air with their noise, while trucks barrel down the nearby highway. I lean against the doorframe, unsure of what to do. I’m about to leave her when she says, “Lay down with me?”

She scoots over, leaving me space on my foam mattress and, despite my reservations and the comfort of a real bed upstairs, I crawl in.

This space is small for one person, so there’s no way for our bodies
not
to press against one another. Melina remains still, facing the ceiling and I do the same.

“So what’s going on?” I ask her.

Her sigh rattles her chest. “I’m excited. And nervous. And anxious.”

“Nerv-cited? Or N-anxious?”

“Shut up.” Her hand slaps my chest, warm and familiar. She moves it quickly, but I snatch it out of the air, linking her fingers with mine. It’s impulsive, but it feels right.

“You’re going to be great.”

“I’m worried about Allie.”

I shift to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Her Achilles’. I don’t know. Never tell her I said this, but I’m surprised they’ve kept her on the team. She’s struggling. I doubt she’ll get to play. It almost seems weird that they’d bring her.”

My chest tightens. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems? The PT is clearing her for play, right?”

“Yeah. I can just tell, I guess. We’ve played together for so long. She’s off.  And…”

“And what?”

“I feel like a total bitch for saying this, but... what if it hurts our chances?” She bites her lip, conflicted. “If it was anyone else I’d have a problem with it.”

She’s right, of course. The entire reason I’ve been brought in is to strengthen the second line after Saxon’s injury. I want to tell Melina the truth—that Allie is here because of me, but I can’t. No one can know that.

“It’s not our job to second-guess the coaches,” I say after a moment.

She reaches for the ceiling, picking at the rough edge of peeling paint.  “I know—and you’re right. I’m just nerv-cited.”

A motorcycle screams down the highway, startling the silence. I scratch my chest, feeling the van grow warm with our combined body heat. I break the silence and say, “I don’t know if it matters, but I’m really proud of you.”

The mattress shifts, and I look over to see those brown eyes blinking at me. “I’m proud of you, too.”

Our fingers are still linked. I rub my thumb over her hand, and she reaches up, rubbing the hair on my jaw. God, I’d give anything to kiss her right now. Just once, to pretend I’d never blown it with her, to taste her mouth and feel her skin against mine. The air turns thick and her lips part and my heart hammers so hard she must hear it. I’m wondering what she’d do if I took a chance when the van door opens with a loud slide.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Allie asks.

I give Melina one last look but she’s already up on her elbow, smiling at my sister. “Just some last minute jitters.”

“Yours or his?”

I press my back against the mattress and shift over, smashing Melina into the crates. “Come on,” I say, making room for my sister. “We’ll all freak out together.”

I lift my arms and they both snuggle against my sides. For the first time in years we’re bound together again.

And for the first time in forever a sense of peace settles in my bones.

Part 3

Rio

Chapter 30

The truth about the US Men’s National Team is that we haven’t played competitively in the Olympics for the last two games. The age range for the athletes is U23, meaning all players have to be under the age of twenty-three. The big guns on our World Cup team are older, stronger players with more experience, and we managed to squeak through, beating Colombia 2-1 in the qualifiers.

Both the women’s and men’s teams get to Rio early, our matches starting before the Opening Ceremonies. We’re at different fields, in different cities, but I hear the news that the women beat New Zealand on Wednesday. Melina scored two goals. Allie rode the bench, but in the TV clip we watched in our room, she was smiling with pride after the win.

I hold a similar position—deep on the sidelines. Dom crushes it, blocking a handful of shots, but our defense is strong. He takes a major hit in the second half, and for a brief second I think Mitchell may put me in, but Dom waves medical off and finishes the game, clobbering Sweden 5-1.

It’s not until after those matches are over that I get my first real taste of the Athlete’s Village, which has the look and feel of a small city. Clusters of high rises shoot toward the sky, providing lodging to the thousands of participants.

The place is like a compound—if not an actual fortress. The Village is known for being a safe place for athletes. No press, family or visitors are allowed outside of specific areas and even then only with approved access. Each athlete and coach is given a card on a lanyard we’re to wear at all times unless actively competing. The card gets us into our rooms, the dining area, gyms and medical center. For an adult it’s like being at an all-inclusive resort. For the underage athletes, like the gymnasts, it’s a taste of delirious freedom. For the first time in their lives they aren’t under the constant supervision of coaches and parents. I pass a group on the way to the gym and feel the glee vibrating off their tiny bodies.

Not everyone’s checked in when we first arrive, but by Friday morning the hallways and walkways are crowded with thousands of the world’s best athletes.

Rory and I room together along with Pollard and Johnson. I can only assume the room-assigners figured it would be good to give me a stable—religious—roommate to lessen my temptation. It’s way better than dealing with Mendez and Dom all day, though, so I won’t complain.

The atmosphere in the Village is intense. Even the dining area feels frenetic, high-octane energy pulsing through the room filled with unfamiliar faces and languages. A group of German weightlifters chant and laugh loudly as we pass, muscles bulging beneath their red, black and gold tracksuits. Allie texts her location. Rory follows me through the crowd, and we sit with our food trays at the seats she’s saved us.

“Isn’t this the wildest thing you’ve ever seen?” she gushes, unable to drag her eyes from the room.

“I guess it’s what happens when you have so much adrenaline in such a small proximity,” I agree, understanding a little better what the guys were saying in the locker room the other day. Win or lose, play or not, why not let loose a little? Especially once your personal event is over?

A tray clatters down on the table next to mine. Melina looks frazzled, hair slipping from her ponytail. Easing into a seat she says, “Holy crap, that was intense.”

My sister leans over the table. “What?”

“I got invited to like, six parties.” She takes a sip of her drink.

“Six? Who were they?” Allie asks.

Apart from a shared glance, Rory and I keep quiet. I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

“I don’t even know.” Melina turns, glancing over her shoulder. “Those guys...they’re from Britain. I think they’re track and field. And those guys in the green? Archery.”

“What did you say?”

“I said thanks and ran off. Of course Lucy stuck around to get the room and building numbers.” Allie snorts; their team’s left back is known for her fondness for men. “I’m here to win,” Melina continues, waving a carrot stick around. “Not party like a bunch of sorority girls. I mean, you know, not until later maybe.”

Like us, the women have matches lasting the majority of the games. Schedules like that will definitely cut into the partying, for those interested. “Are you guys ready for the Opening Ceremonies?” Rory asks.

“They delivered our outfits today. What the heck is up with those hats?” I shudder. The uniform committee went a little overboard this year and I imagine by the time it’s over every blog and newspaper will have opinions on our not-so-stylish clothing.

“The winter games seem to get the better outfits.  They get Tommy Hilfiger’s cozy sweaters.” Melina stabs at a piece of pineapple on her plate. “While we’re stuck in white shorts and polyester blazers.”

“I kind of like it,” Rory says. “It’s classic.”

“That’s because you look cute in anything,” Allie says, prompting a blush to spread over his cheeks.

I give my sister a look because the last thing I need is her encouraging Rory. Between her break up with Marcus and her heel problems, she’s changed—especially with the way she relates to guys. It’s a confidence thing. She and Melina have always been independent, but lately there’s a falter in her step and as her brother I can’t help but notice she’s trying to fill a hole.

The irony of my thoughts strikes me. When did
I
become the stable twin?