Disclaimer: I don't own MIOBI, and I don't make any money off of this.
Payson missed Emily. Emily brought a truck load of baggage with her, that was for sure, but at least she wouldn't stab Payson in the back when they roomed together. Kelly might. Literally.
Rooming with Kelly wasn't ideal, but Payson understood why Sasha wanted them together. Of all of the girls on the Worlds team, Payson was the least likely to be manipulated by the devil-horned gymnast. The other Rock girls were easy prey to Kelly's machinations, but Payson had always been harder to rile up. Now, with the new-found confidence that Sasha had instilled in her, Payson was unflappable.
She sighed, sitting down on the bed and plopping an ice pack down on her ankle. There was no use wishing for Emily or regretting her current roommate. There was no changing the way things were and there was no way to bring Emily back. The only thing that Payson could control right now was how well she took care of herself before the finals.
Icing an injury was always a strange mixture of shock and relief. The cold numbed the throbbing in her ankle, but it also sent a shivering jolt through her body. The benefits outweighed the discomfort, though. The sprain wasn't that bad, and if the ice could bring the swelling down she wouldn't need anything but a tight wrap to get through the All Around competition. She had certainly made a name for herself with that last vault in the Team Finals, but it wasn't the kind of name she wanted. She'd rather be remembered for winning, not for being injured.
Kelly came into their room carrying an ice pack of her own. She raised an eyebrow at Payson's position and said, "Hey, look, we're twinkies."
"Twinkies?" asked Payson.
"Yeah," Kelly answered as she propped up her leg, positioned the ice pack over her ankle, and indicated Payson's own elevated leg. "Twinkies. We match. Haven't you ever heard that expression?"
Payson laughed. "No, I haven't, but whatever. We're twinkies. How's yours, by the way?" she asked, jerking her head in the general direction of Kelly's foot.
Kelly shrugged. "The same. It hurts, I'll deal."
"You should talk to Sasha," said Payson, frowning. "He really knows his stuff, he might be able to help. Trust me, you don't want to wait until it's too late."
Kelly was hesitant. "He won't keep me out of the All Around, will he?"
"Is it bad enough to keep you out?" Payson asked her roommate with an incredulous look. Her only response was another shrug, so Payson dropped the subject. Kelly would talk about it when she was ready and pressing the subject would only put Kelly on the defensive.
"What about you? Are you going to be okay to compete?" Kelly actually sounded concerned, which threw Payson for a loop more than any insult would have. The team finals were over; the two girls were now competitors, and the old Kelly would dance naked in the snow before she showed concern for a competitor.
"Yeah, the trainer says if I rest it tomorrow I should be fine. I'll have to wrap it, but I'll still be able to compete." There was a long, awkward pause before Payson asked what was weighing on her mind. "Were you serious yesterday? About the team stuff, I mean."
Kelly squirmed a little and then reached up to unwind her braided bunches. She didn't look at Payson as she said, "I'm not really sure. I meant it when I said it. I think I mean it now. At least, I don't want to hit you over the head with a pipe wrench anymore—" Payson interrupted her with a snort "—but my mom says thinking about the team will just drag you down during the individual."
"No offense, KP, but your mom is a dumbass." Payson turned toward Kelly to gauge her reaction. Catching a glimpse of Kelly's hair, though, Payson forgot about their conversation and burst out laughing.
"What?" Kelly asked, sounding confused.
It was several minutes before Payson could control herself enough to reply. As it was, she could only manage two words. "Your hair!"
Kelly had finished taking down her hair, and it now stood out several inches from her head in a frizzy mess. The term 'rat's nest' wasn't strong enough to describe the mass of tangles on top of her head.
Kelly pretended to be affronted, but her lips were tugging up at the sides. "Geez, Keeler, I know you're supposed to be perfect and everything, but are you seriously telling me that you've never had bad hair?"
"I'm not telling you anything, Kelly, except that you look ridiculous." Wiping away her tears of mirth, Payson asked the question that had been plaguing her for years. "Why do you wear your hair like that, anyway?"
"It was my 'dumbass' mom's idea," she answered, throwing Payson's earlier words back at her. Then she lifted her chin and said, with a level of dignity that was incongruous with her appearance, "It's a trademark."
"Well, maybe you should go take a shower and get rid of the leftovers of your trademark. If you go out looking like that, someone might faint. They'll mistake you for the bride of Frankenstein. "
Kelly took the advice, although with a fake air of contempt, and moved into the bathroom. Payson was glad to have a few minutes by herself to consider what Kelly had said. She had sounded sincere.
One of the constants of Payson's life, since she first time they were both on the Junior National Team at 12 years old, was that Kelly Parker looked out for Kelly Parker and to hell with everybody else. It was disconcerting for that paradigm to suddenly change, but it would certainly make the next couple of years easier if the change was real. Kelly was, and had always been, Payson's biggest competition. If they worked together instead of against each other, they could both grow to greater heights in the years leading up to the Olympics.
Kelly's ankle was a problem. It had kept her from winning Nationals, and it might very well keep her out of the Olympics if she didn't take care of it soon. Unlike Kelly (or at least the old Kelly), Payson did not want her competition to be taken down by an injury. She suspected that Kelly had been abusing the cortisone shots, which could atrophy the Achilles' tendon and cause worse damage than the initial injury had. Cortisone shots were a temporary fix, not a permanent one, but they were hyped up big in the world of professional sports. Payson had fallen for the hype, and she was pretty sure Kelly had, too.
She toyed with the idea of talking to Sasha about the problem, but it wasn't necessary. Sasha already knew about it, she was sure, and was just giving Kelly time to come to him. He liked for his girls to take responsibility for themselves. If Kelly didn't talk to him tomorrow, he would bring the issue up himself.
Payson's musings were interrupted by Kelly coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and with hair that was only slightly less tangled than before. She stopped in front of the vanity, armed with a comb and bottle of spray-on conditioner, to battle the monster on top of her head. Conversation would be impossible while Kelly fought her war. Payson leaned over toward her nightstand, reaching for a book to occupy her time, when she saw something that chilled her more than an ice pack ever had.
"Kelly, what happened to your arm?"
Kelly turned around to look at her and then paled as she realized what Payson was talking about. When she lifted the comb to her hair, Kelly had revealed a set of five matching bruises on the inside of her arm. They were fading, mottled and yellow, but they still held the distinct shape of fingers. Someone had grabbed Kelly, and hard. Suddenly, her's past behavior made a lot more sense and seemed a lot more justifiable than it ever had before.
She lowered her arm and tried to laugh it off. "Oh, that's nothing. I took a bad fall from the bars last week, and Jake just barely caught me. I'm lucky he was there, really."
Payson pursed her lips. Coaches sometimes caught gymnasts in weird positions when they fell, but she had never seen anyone caught by their arm. Any experienced coach would go for the waist, and even then it was a bear hug type of grasp. Jake was too good of a coach to grab anyone by the arm if they fell off the bars.
She picked her words carefully. Kelly looked spooked already; cornering her would only make things worse. "You know you can trust me, right? If you ever need anything, anything, you can come to me."
Kelly relaxed by a fraction when Payson didn't call her out on the lie, but her guard was still up. "Thanks, Keeler, but I'm fine. Really."
It was another lie. Payson wasn't going to push it and risk alienating Kelly, but she would be talking to Sasha about this. And her mom. Whatever was going on here, it was way above Payson's head. She didn't know how to help Kelly, but her mom and Sasha would. For now, Payson would just concentrate on putting aside their rivalry and being a friend so that when everything went pear shaped, Kelly would have someone to turn to.
A/N: As I'm sure you can tell, this fic will not be all happy and fluffy, but there will be plenty of lighthearted parts along with the serious stuff. This story is very important to me, and here's why:
I am a very maternal person, which led me to being the adoptive mother of many younger girls in my dance and cheer studio who had horrible stage mothers. They turned to me for everything, and I loved them as if they really were my daughters. I did my best to give them self-confidence and self-respect, but there was only so much I could do when their real mothers were constantly telling them that they were not good enough. They are all grown up now, and only one of them has managed to overcome her mother's influence. This story is my way of giving these girls a voice. They deserve to have someone speak for them, and Kelly is going to do it. She is going to fight back.