Kaylie is staring hard at Nicky's dormitory door, wiling it to open. She's soaked from the rain and can feel water dripping from her backpack to the ground behind her. The squishy sounds that emerge from her shoes every time she takes a step are annoying, but she's walked half a mile already from where she had been finishing her biology homework, and now she's used to them.
She scoffs. Homework. That word might as well have been from a foreign language only a week ago. Also foreign to her is why she's still standing in front of Nicky's door, biting her lip and shifting her weight from one foot to another, doing nothing. Well, she can't knock. Before she can explain that the lock on her door has been malfunctioning ever since they got to Corinthian, he'll laugh at her, as he's been doing for the last two weeks. But she also can't spend the night drenched and muddy. She also can't ask the administration for help, because it looks like she broke it herself, and she also suspects that anything nowadays will land her in detention. She can't go back to that dungeon. Yes, she knows her way around the detention room. She's trained herself to say "don't ask" when people ask why the juvenile delinquents from detention know her.
Kaylie adjusts the backpack on her shoulders again, and becomes aware of a drop of water lazily making its way from her hair, to her cheek, to her chin. A week ago, none of this would have happened. One week ago… Kaylie's mind slowly drifts away from her current predicament as she recalls the moments before all of this began to come about.
Now that she ponders it, one misquoted comment was all it took.
In the aftermath of the Rock's "rogue gym" rebellion against the National Committee's picks for the meet against China, the press flocked to the Rock for a field day, and under Sasha's watchful supervision, the Rock gymnasts had a press conference regarding their win.
"What do you think sets Rock gymnasts apart from other teens in Oregon?" was the fateful question, although Kaylie didn't know at the time. In fact, she wasn't even paying much attention to the interview by then. Her vision was already dotted by colorful splotches caused by the photographic flashes. She was thankful it wasn't her question to answer—she had already provided decent enough responses to the last two, which had been aimed directly to her, the National Champion and now officially best gymnast in the country.
Lauren leaned towards her microphone and took the helm, and Kaylie tensed just a bit, because she knows her friend well and thinks she's too honest. "Well, we don't have the average concerns that average teenagers do. I mean, they're worried about grades and P.E. class, and we're worrying about making the Olympic team for 2012. They worry about… small things, and we have all this weight on our shoulders. It's way more than regular teenagers handle."
Simple, straight-to-the-point, and frank. And also, apparently, rude, condescending, and bad publicity.
"What do you mean? I was being honest," argued Lauren once Sasha gathered everyone the next morning, his tone ominous and solemn. Kaylie was still half-asleep and her eyes were for some reason lingering on the uneven bars.
"Regardless of your intentions, your words were not perceived as honest, but ill-mannered," their coach explained patiently, with irritation peeking from the edges of his voice. He went on to tell them that some association for the well-being of the youth in Oregon—or something like that; Kaylie didn't catch the whole name—had been outraged by the comment and asked the National Committee to arrange some sort of reprehension for their snobbish athletes in the state. "And as we know, our vengeful National Committee is more than happy to accommodate their request. This morning, the committee and the head of the association negotiated an appropriate punishment for you all."
At the mention of punishment, Kaylie's ears perked up anxiously. What did they have in mind? A few more hours of training each day for a week? It was while she was speculating possible ideas that approximately a dozen of the Denver gymnasts walked in, led by none other than Nicky Russo—formerly the bane of her existence, and now a friendly acquaintance with whom she had shared a few romantically awkward moments. His steely gaze, once broken by a small smile in her direction, resuscitated the old butterflies she had thought had left with him to Denver.
"Let's welcome your Denver colleagues, including our old alum, Nicky Russo," Sasha instructed, his gruffness interrupted by a content nod at the sight of the boy who used to be the best male gymnast at the Rock. Everyone shook hands, and then Sasha was back to business. She and Nicky somehow ended up standing side by side, and swapped grins before turning back to Sasha. "The Denver athletes have also heard of the association's petition. The compromise they have reached is…" He drew out an envelope, and it seemed everyone had stopped breathing in expectation of the bad news. "You will all be attending public school for a month. And… your parents have already signed the consents."
There were no gasps, no exchange of surprised looks. But Kaylie felt her stomach drop and wondered whether everyone was having the same soundless reaction.
Sasha felt the need to explain things further, fueled by the stunned silence. "The association feels it their duty to show gymnastic athletes that teenagers are not… so far below them."
"That wasn't what I meant," Lauren growled to Kaylie and Emily nearby.
"Why are they including the Denver club in this?" Nicky asked, suddenly angry. Kaylie took a ginger step away from him because if he began to imply that the Rock sucked and Denver was better, she'd have to take her stance and disagree. "We had nothing to do with that interview."
"They feel it is an opinion shared by most teenage gymnasts—" Immediately, there were protests from both gyms, and before Kaylie knew it, she had spoken up.
"What Lo said was just the truth. We gymnasts, from the Rock, or Denver—whatever—are different." And then she waited for an onslaught of arguments against her, but there only mostly nods. "She… just didn't express it well."
"That's also my thought," Sasha agreed curtly, as though any further debate on the matter would be wasted time. "I have the list here for which school you all have been assigned to, starting next Monday." And as though herded by some invisible force, everyone huddled together around Sasha as he began to list names and schools. "The following athletes will attend Boulder High…"
Kaylie felt a breeze pass by and carry Nicky's scent to her nostrils. That she even remembered the aftershave he uses was slightly disturbing. The fact he then looked at her and mumbled that she still smells the same was… even more disturbing. She forced her attention back to Sasha.
"The following, in turn, will be attending Roosevelt High in Denver." And he called off more names. Some of the gymnasts there seemed satisfied, others had expressions that more closely resembled mortification. "And, last but not least… two of our gymnasts will attend Corinthian Prep."
Kaylie snorted quietly. She sure felt sorry for the poor souls that were going to attend Corinthian (the only private school on the list), which, mind you, had ties with the military and was basically a boarding school twenty minutes from downtown Boulder, in the outskirts of the city and close to the mountains. And then she remembered that… neither her name nor Nicky's had been called…
"Kaylie Cruz and Nicky Russo."
"Why us two?" Kaylie asked with horror, while an indignant Nicky asked simultaneously, "why Corinthian?"
Sasha seemed amused. "Your assignments to a regular school were a bit more complicated, since Kaylie is the National Champion and you, Nicky, apparently haven't changed your address in the National Committee's database, as they still have you as a resident of Boulder. Because of these issues, your assignments were done late, and by then, all others schools had their available spots completely full." Was Sasha smirking? "Corinthian Prep was graceful enough to accommodate you two."
And that was the beginning of the end. Kaylie is still standing in front of Nicky's door, shivering from the cold and trying to remember everything she's ever read about pneumonia.
She raises a fist to the door, suspending it and triple-guessing her urge to knock. Nicky and her haven't been in the best of terms. Yes, she landed them in detention the first day of school. And yes, she ruined his grade in chemistry with that unfortunate fire. And she did kill their plant for that Biology project. But really, she's trying her best to fit in this horrible school and he should understand that this just isn't her environment, instead of getting all worked up over minor details like the fact that she accidentally spilled juice on his English paper yesterday.
She knocks. Nicky opens the door and widens his eyes slightly when he sees her, but pulls his composure back together.
"My lock is broken. But I know what you're thinking. You're asking yourself why you should help me out, when I haven't made your school life easy. But… can't you just help, and appreciate it that even though I never wanted my dignity to die a slow and painful death like this, I'm still here, standing in front of you, begging you to kick my door open or let me use your shower?"
A/N: I got so angsty after writing the last chapter of One Week that I decided to write a happier fic, and this is it. Enjoy and please review. I appreciate all your support and thank you for helping me become a better writer!