She knew better than to try to talk to him during a workout. As long as everyone did their assigned reps and exercises, the team could talk about anything and everything, but he never chatted. He sat back and watched. Evaluated. Rated.
They’d probably watched film today. With their previous night’s practice projected on the wall, he would have narrated each dive, stopping mid-flip, stretching flash-seconds into minutes, rewinding mistakes in slow-motion. He’d spout off his insights as to where and why a dive went wrong. He could always spot wrong. And he knew how to fix it.
That’s why he was the one person in the world who understood her. Only he saw her hyper-distractibility as a good thing. She’d always been in trouble at school. The reason her parents put her in gymnastics, oh so long ago, was because she drove them nuts with her constant need to move. Tired of peeling her off the furniture and forcing her right-side up, they’d looked for a way to wear her out. Then she’d been too wild for that prissy world, too.
She’d finally found her place on the diving board. Benny knew how to channel her impulsiveness, her way of leaping first and looking later, her flaws and messes, into something that worked. Everything she’d accomplished—her dives, scores, wins, championships—were because of him.
Finally, an eternity after the last diver’s car left the lot, her coach appeared. His hat blocked his face, but she knew his posture, the brisk way he walked, always with purpose.
“Hi.”
He stopped, a few feet from his red SUV. Stared for a full minute before his face broke into something she was almost sure was a smile. She licked her lips, tried not to fidget.
“I went to the quarry. It looks dive-able. It must have been a freak accident when that boy lost his head.”
He stared at her but didn’t take it back, didn’t pretend she’d heard his story wrong.
“Did you go for it? Or did you walk away?”
They both knew the answer.
“Why are you here, Ria?”
A shiver of doubt ran over her skin. But then she shook it off. “Let me come back.”
“Not happening.”
“Please?” Sometimes begging worked. “I’ll do whatever you say. You can work me as hard as you want. We can go back to the way it was.”
“I got you there, Ria. I got you ready. We were going to go all the way.” His voice was steely, metallic and cold. “But you blew it. You ran away.”
“I know.” There was no point in apologizing. Benny hated the word “sorry.”
“You could have been a champion, but now you’re nothing.” He shifted his bag to his other shoulder. He was getting irritated. Not quite pissed, yet. She still had time. “You were barely hurt after that fall. You quit!”
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t understand.” She scrambled to the ground. Put her hands flat on the cement, stretched herself out long, into a plank position. So many infractions she’d worked off this way. “How long should I hold it?” She tightened every muscle, readied herself for his check.
“This was the year, Ria. That was always the plan. I’m not waiting around. Seriously, what would we work for? What would be the point?”
Through clenched teeth, struggling to stay taut, she said, “We can try again next year. Or maybe even sooner, if we hit every meet.”
“No team wants you now. Everyone knows you’re a head case. You’re too unstable.”
“They can’t ignore me if I keep winning.”
“Go for it. I wish you all the luck.”
“You don’t believe in luck.” Her voice was thick, filled with frustration. Her body swayed, revealing her struggle. She hadn’t been working hard enough. She’d tried to stay strong, but she couldn’t do it on her own. “My parents will pay whatever you want. You know they will.”
“You think this is about money? No wonder you blew it. You never got what we were doing, did you?” He spat on the ground. “We’re done, Ria. I’m not going to waste my time on someone I can’t trust. The second you scratched that meet, we were kaput. Over. Cease and desist. The end.”
She pressed harder into the cement, trying to calm the involuntary shaking of her muscles.
“I know I screwed up, Benny. It’s all my fault. But you can fix this. Tell me what to do. I promise I won’t mess up again. Please, Benny. . . .”
His kick hit her right arm, too fast for reflexes to fight