The Thomas Flair - E.J. Russell Page 0,10
eyebrows rose. “The former Romanian champion?”
“That’s the one. He’s tough, but that’s what I needed. He got me back into competition shape.”
“Have his methods changed the way you compete? I noticed that you’ve got a new habit now—you close your eyes and tap your chest right before you salute the judges to begin each exercise. You didn’t do that before Rio. Can you tell us about that?”
Tony didn’t let his smile waver, but he wasn’t about to go into details. By now, he was a master at evasion—he’d been doing it for half his life. “Gymnastics—all sports really—are as much a mental game as a physical one. Almost any athlete you talk to will tell you they’ve got some routine, some talisman, some habit before they compete. I don’t think any of us go so far as to dance naked around a sacrificial fire at midnight, but you never know.”
She spread her hands in a there-you-have-it gesture to the audience. “Well, whatever your method, it seems to be working, based on the results of the last qualifying events. I understand your Olympic dreams aren’t over yet.”
Tony cursed to himself. He didn’t want the news to come out this way. It wouldn’t endear him to the other men vying for an Olympic berth—especially Sol. But he should have known better: Quinn had the most extensive information network in the business.
“Don’t jinx me, Quinn. Didn’t we just talk about superstitions?”
“And don’t be coy, Tony. Your performance at the World Cup apparatus events puts you in the top rank on high bar and still rings. That’s a huge achievement for someone who’s been away from the sport for so long.”
Tony sighed. “Thank you, Quinn.” Might as well bite the bullet. “I’m incredibly honored to have been invited to train with the national team at the US Olympic and Paralympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. But as for my personal Olympic dreams? That’s up to the coaches and the committee, because even though gymnastics depends on the work we do as individuals, the Olympics is focused on Team USA.” He looked directly into the camera. “And just like the rest of the guys, I’m all about the team.”
All about the team.
Sol let his cell phone screen go black. If Tony was so team oriented, why did he run away after Rio? Sol scrubbed a hand through his hair, his belly clenching worse than after one of Xiao’s killer ab workouts, because that wasn’t the real question, was it?
The real question, the one that still plagued Sol every day, was why did he run away from me?
After Tony changed his cell phone number, Sol could have gotten it from one of the other guys on the Olympic team, but he couldn’t make himself ask. Because then someone would wonder why Tony hadn’t bothered to give it to the guy who was supposed to be his best friend.
Sol sighed and pushed himself off the bench. His parents always accused him of being stubborn, and they weren’t wrong. His mom had chivied him like a flustered hen with a wayward chick, asking why Tony never stopped by when he was in town anymore, why Sol never talked to Tony, why Sol never mentioned Tony, when they’d always been so close, when Sol had followed Tony to the University of Oklahoma program, even though Tony was two years ahead of him.
“Talk to him, Solomon. He must miss you as much as you miss him. Stubbornness shouldn’t get in the way of a friendship.”
But Sol never tried, because even though he didn’t have Tony’s number, Tony had his. And it wasn’t stubbornness, not entirely. Sol was so bleached with shame that he hadn’t even merited a goodbye text that he just couldn’t. His fear of rejection ran deep—all the way back to the knowledge that his biological parents had put him up for adoption. And although his adoptive parents—his real parents—were the best ever, that first hit of not good enough to keep still lingered.
Sol had harbored the hope that when Tony came back to campus in the fall, the two of them would have a chance to reconnect. But after losing his NCAA eligibility when he went pro, Tony hadn’t even returned to UO to finish his last academic semester. Sixteen credits short of his degree and he’d bailed, just like he’d bailed on gymnastics. Just like he bailed on me.
Yeah, Tony was a freaking expert on bailing. When they’d first started training together right here at Central