“I know, but we’re in the middle of something,” I murmur. “Please, Mom. Sit.”
Coach Hall eyes me carefully. “Lyla, why don’t you take a second to introduce yourself.” She nods at my mother. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Taylor. Have a seat on the bleachers.”
“It’s Ms. Taylor. And hullo,” she slurs.
I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for patience. I clear my throat as my mother sits down. Spinning on my heel, I turn to address this team of girls that my mother is making a fucking stellar impression on. My face must be beet red because I can feel how hot it is.
It’s totally obvious when my gaze travels through the crowd that the team and the parents are locked in a fairly even split—some are horrified, some disgusted, and some look like they pity me.
I release a shuddery breath. “I’m Lyla Taylor. I earned a scholarship.” My eyes flick to my mother as she gasps.
“Oh my gawd, isn’t my baby amazing?”
I close my eyes for a second, only to open them to see Mandy and her two besties, who I’ve learned are named Justice and Marina, trying to hold back their laughter. “I compete all-around. I’m always learning new skills, but I’d like to master a full-in, back-out in a layout position this year on floor, and maybe a standing full twist on beam. A jaeger on bars, for sure.” I grit my teeth, afraid to voice my final goal. I suck in a breath. “And I’d really like to work a Yurchenko vault.”
Marina’s eyes bug out and Justice whispers, “Holy shit.” Mandy rolls her eyes.
My heart beats rapidly as I glance at Coach Hall, who gives me a grin. “That’s a tall order. Prepare to work your tush off.”
I nod. “I always do.”
She smiles at me, nodding. “Then we’ll make it happen.”
“That’s my fucking girl.”
Oh. My. God. “Mom.” My humiliation is unending. I sit down next to her on the bleacher and sigh.
Coach Hall, to her credit, ignores my mother in favor of moving on with the last topic on the agenda. “Uniforms. We’ll have both warm-up leotards and competition ones. Regular warm-ups, too. And a team T-shirt.”
One of the other parents raises a hand. “What are these going to run us?”
My stomach plummets. Oh shit, shit, shit.
“The school pays for the competition leotards and the warm-ups, parents foot the bill for the T-shirts and warm-up leotards. It’s not much, probably seventy-five total.”
“Seventy-five,” my mother grumbles, as if she’ll be the one to pay.
I press my fingers to my temple. Please make this be over soon.
After a few more questions, fortunately, it is. Coach Hall gives us each a hard copy of our schedule. “We start Monday. Can’t wait to see all of you out there so you can show us what you’ve got. Feel free to hang out and talk, if you’d like.” She looks at everyone, but shoots a wink in my direction, and ever so stealthily jerks her head in the direction of her office.
“Are we free to go?” My mother seems agitated all of a sudden. Who knows what the matter is. She’s probably itching to find out where she can score some blow.
Coach Hall seems to understand that whatever is going on is highly unusual. She takes pity on me. “Yes of course, Ms. Taylor. You seem like a busy lady. It was delightful to meet you.”
I cringe inwardly as Mom hops up, swaying slightly. “Gotta go, see ya, kid.” She waves at me, then totters out of the building on her sky-high heels.
Once she’s taken off, I draw in a deep breath and let it all go. I stand up from the bleacher and make my way out of the gym without stopping to talk to the other girls. I know all eyes are on me. I don’t know what else to do but keep my head down and get the job done.
While I wait outside Coach Hall’s office, I pull out my phone. Ellie’s been letting me have it again for leaving her hanging.
Ellie:I should have known you weren’t going to respond after that last one.
Ellie:You tease.
Ellie:Fill me in when you can. I know you’re busy getting into the swing of things.
Yep. And that’s why she’s my bestie. She understands me.