Chapter 4: I Look to You

ELLA

As Ella Abrams listened to her brothers– and the boy who was set to become her brother– tell the stories of their childhoods that had played a part in making them into the people they are today, she had kind of hung back.

She wouldn't say that she felt like she had a boring life, per se. But for a girl who was enthralled by adventure and fascinated by the vastness of the world, it had always felt a bit lackluster.

For the most part, her childhood had been pretty normal. She had two loving parents, two rough and rowdy– but also fiercely protective– older brothers, she made straight A's, was the center flyer on her cheerleading team… Most of her life felt very sheltered from the rest of the world that lay outside of northern Ohio. Few occurrences deviated from the cookie-cutter mold of a life full of privilege.

Ella had felt a twinge of jealousy when Sebastian told them about what his childhood was like in France. Because, how exciting was that? To have split your formative years between two different continents and grown up experiencing the cultures of each. And, then again, her brothers shared the whole childhood trauma thing.

Every day Ella was grateful for the way that her naïvety at the tender age of four had, for the most part, spared her from the trauma of her brother nearly getting killed. While Griffin had shared that the stress stemming from the accident had impacted his performance in school and beyond, Ella really only remembered wondering.

Where were Mommy and Daddy? And why hadn't she seen Artie in a while? (Grammy and Gramps– her mother's parents who she and Griffin had stayed with during the time Artie was hospitalized– had only told her that Artie wasn't feeling well and that her parents had taken him to see the doctors who would be able to help him feel better.)

Who were all of the noisy men in orange hard hats, and what were they doing to the carpets and the countertops and the doorways of the house? (They were construction workers who were remodeling their house to make it easier for Artie to get around in his new wheelchair and preserve his independence.)

Why did they move Artie's bed and his dresser and his toys down into the den? (Because he'd never be able to easily access the second floor of their house on his own again so they were relocating his bedroom.)

She remembered having lots of questions and getting few answers.

She didn't even remember seeing Artie for the first time after the accident, and this frustrated her. Had she visited him in the hospital? Or did she see him for the first time after he'd already been transferred to the rehab facility? What had her reaction been? What was his? Did he say he missed her? All of the situations that were running through her head were ones she had never tried to recall until this moment, and she was struggling. Though she was thankful she had been too young and sheltered to have had to endure the long-lasting effects of the trauma that Griffin and Artie had experienced, she was ashamed that she longed for the way that it had bonded them.

"No offense, Art," Ella began, taking a sip of her Sprite as Artie looked up from his meal, his interest piqued by the way she'd begun her sentence. "But I really don't have many memories of you from when you could walk."

She punctuated her statement with a nonchalant shrug, feigning that the simple fact bothered her less than it actually did.

Artie's expression was unreadable for a millisecond before he began to laugh, clearly not expecting her to say something like that.

"Oh. Well, you were really little. So none taken," Artie shrugged. "The chair's been around since you were… What, four? I don't remember anything from when I was that age either. so I don't blame you at all. And neither does he," Artie joked, pushing back from the table just then to pop a wheelie and spin in a circle, causing the other three to shake their heads and roll their eyes.

"Actually, that's a bit of a lie," Ella relented as Artie returned to the table. "I do have a few memories from before. But they mostly revolve around gymnastics. You know, being forced to come with Mom to allllll of your practices and meets. She used to bring my Polly Pockets and Barbie dolls in her purse so that I'd have something to entertain myself with. But I remember watching you too. Just being in awe of the tricks you could make your body do." Artie's face flushed as Ella recalled the memory. "You were always flipping around, and I wanted to be just like you."

Lima, Ohio

October 2002

"Come on, El," Nancy Abrams said, picking up her purse and standing up from the bleacher seat where she had been sitting on the upper level of Midwest Gymnastics Academy, where eight-year-old Artie had practice four times a week. The spot was designated for parents to stay and watch the gymnasts practice, if they chose. Nancy always loved to stay and watch, if she didn't have many other things going on. "Artie's practice is over, honey."

Four-year-old Ella had been kneeling on the floor, using the metal bleacher beside her as a table while she was acting out the elaborate conversation between her Polly Pocket dolls. She stood up from where she'd been playing, and reached for her mother's hand as they headed downstairs to meet Artie.

"Artie!" Ella exclaimed when her brother came into view, exiting the gym in his royal blue leotard and red pants. He was still wearing his black sports goggles in place of his typical glasses frames, and his light brown hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. His gym duffel was slung over his shoulder.

Ella immediately dropped her mother's hand and ran over to her brother to envelop him in an affectionate hug. Even though his practice was only a couple of hours long, she was always ecstatic to see her big brother after any time apart, and this was true for Artie too.

"Hi Ella!" Artie greeted her, leaning down to accept his sister's hug before turning to their mother.

"Mom, did you see my vault today?" He excitedly asked, jumping up and down. "I won the 'stick it' game because I was the only one on my team to land perfectly– without wobbling or stepping out– every time!"

"I did. Nice job!" Nancy congratulated her son "Are you ready to go?"

Artie nodded, taking Ella's hand in one of his and the toys she had been holding in the other, and followed their mother out to the car.

"You worked hard today, Artie. I'm proud of you," Nancy Abrams praised her son as she was buckling Ella into her car seat while Artie got himself situated in his booster on the other side of the backseat.

"Thanks," Artie grinned. "Coach says my technique is getting better. Maybe in a few weeks, I'll be ready to upgrade my dismount off of the high bar. Just in time for meet season! Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Ella had no idea what her brother was talking about, but she smiled anyway and nodded enthusiastically as he blabbed on about all of the things that had happened during his practice today, and about how excited he was for his upcoming meet. As he talked, Artie held two of Ella's Polly Pockets in his hands, making them do splits and back handsprings on his lap.

"Look, El. They're gymnasts, too!" Artie said. Ella looked up from tugging a green rubber dress onto the blonde Polly Pocket she was currently holding, to see how Artie was playing with her other dolls. "This one is the coach, see?"

"Mmhmm," She said, handing him the doll she had been playing with. "Can she be a gymnast too?"

"Hey, Ella, do you think you would like to start some gymnastics classes soon?" Nancy asked, glancing back at her daughter in the rearview mirror as she drove them all home.

"I'll get to flip like Artie?" Ella asked, almost in disbelief.

"Well, if you work hard like he does, I'm sure you'll get there someday," Nancy replied with a laugh. "We'll talk to Daddy when he gets home for dinner about signing you up for some weekly classes after school, alright?"

"I remember being so excited," Ella said. "Because I already spent most of my time there, you know, sitting with Mom and watching Artie. And now, I was going to get to be a gymnast, too."

She wanted to say more, but stopped just then, knitting her eyebrows together.

"I don't know why I wasn't in the car that day, when the accident happened. It was only, like, a month later, and I know I was with Dad and Griffin, but I don't remember why I hadn't gone," Ella's voice cracked as she looked off to the side, unable to meet Artie's eyes. "I feel like I was always there with Mom, always at the gym watching your practices. But that day… I didn't go with her."

The group grew quiet, as nobody knew what to say. They sat in silence until Artie cleared his throat.

"It's okay," He said, finding his voice and reaching out to put a comforting hand on Ella's arm. Ella thought about how exhausting it must be for him, having to comfort everyone else when the memories of his accident made them sad. That must get old quickly, she mused, before vowing right then and there to stop doing that. "It doesn't matter why you didn't come. I'm glad you weren't there. Because if you had gotten hurt too, then Griffin really would have spiraled."

"Ouch…" Sebastian gasped under his breath, wincing before turning to see Griffin's reaction to Artie's low blow in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Griffin said, picking up one of his fries and tossing it across the table, aiming perfectly so that it hit Artie right between the eyebrows. "I get deep and vulnerable with you all, and then you use it against me?"

Artie winked, picking up the discarded french fry from where it landed on the table before popping it into his mouth. Grossed out by the habits of teenage boys when it came to food, Ella faux-gagged and looked away.

"So, that's it?" Sebastian asked Ella. "Your only memory of Artie from before he got hurt was when you were both in the backseat and your mom asked if you wanted to do gymnastics?"

"No. Well… I mean, yes, but there's more."

"Mom, are we having dinner right away?" Artie asked when Nancy turned onto their street and their grey shingled two-story house came into view. "Or can Ella and I have some time to play before we eat?"

"Well, dinner's been in the Crockpot all day, so it's nearly ready, but I suppose you can play for half an hour or so, while I finish up the sides and set the table if you'd like to," she said, putting the car in park.

Artie's face lit up. "Yes! Come on, Ella, follow me! We have to get you ready for your first day of gymnastics!"

He hurried to unbuckle himself before assisting Ella, then the two children ran inside and into the home's den. During the chillier months of the year, the den was the home of Artie's beloved blue panel tumbling mat, perpetually set up there to be used for all of the times he liked to practice his stretching, conditioning, and tumbling when he wasn't at the gym.

"Alright, El, first, we have to stretch out," Artie told her, expertly mimicking the way that his coaches conducted his team's practices, and easily taking on the role of his sister's coach. "We have to stretch first so that none of our muscles get pulled and we get hurt."

Ella followed his lead, doing arm circles and lunges and toe touches, and allowing Artie to spot her in the splits.

"I know they seem hard now, but you'll get better at them the more you stretch and practice," was Artie's advice.

"Okay, so first up is a somersault. Can you do one of these?" Artie demonstrated the trick, bending over so that his hands were on the ground and his head was tucked before using his legs to push off the ground, as he executed a flawless forward roll.

He stood back as Ella tried one for herself. She tried her best to mimic his movements, but fell onto her back instead of rolling onto her feet as Artie had.

"Not bad for your first one," Artie told her. "Try it again, but this time make sure you're squeezing all of your muscles super duper tight so that you roll instead of flop onto your back. Okay?"

"Okay," Ella nodded, preparing to do it again. She took Artie's advice and kept her muscles tight and held her head tucked in as he had, and sure enough, she landed on her feet.

"That was so good, El!" Artie exclaimed, pulling her in for a celebratory hug. "Okay, handstand next! Stand back!"

Ella backed up against the wall as Artie kicked his feet up and balanced on his hands for a few seconds. Through his leotard, she could see the flexed muscles of his shoulders, abs, and calves hard at work, allowing him to hold the position easily. Just when she thought he might lose his balance, he picked up one hand, then the other, traveling around the distance of his mat on his hands before coming down for real.

"Artie, you're so good," Ella told him. "I'll never be as good as you are."

"You don't have to hold it that long," Artie assured her. "I'm an expert, and one day, you will be too. If you stand across from me and put your hands by my feet and kick your legs up, I'll hold onto them for you so you can see how it feels before you try it on your own."

Ella gave him a skeptical look again.

"Come on, Ella, I promise I'd never let you fall."

With that in mind, knowing that her big brother would always keep her safe, Ella worked up the courage to do just as he said, and kicked up her legs. Artie grabbed them pulled them closer to himself, and soon she was in a full-fledged handstand, just like her brother, "the expert" had demonstrated before.

"Great! Do you think you want to try one on your own now?" Artie asked.

Ella nodded, her confidence in herself increasing with every bit of practice and each bit of praise and encouragement from her brother. Artie stepped aside, and Ella put her arms by her ears.

"Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze! And kick!" Artie talked her through the motions. Her handstand on her own didn't get as vertical as the one Artie had helped her with, but Artie cheered super loudly anyway, as if she'd just won the gold medal at the Olympics.

"El, you're a natural!"

"Ten more minutes, okay?" Nancy said, sticking her head into the den from the hallway that led toward the kitchen. "And be careful, please. Arthur, remember that she's a lot younger than you are, and that she's still a beginner. She's not ready for all of the advanced moves that you can do just yet, okay baby?"

"Mom was so overprotective and always hovering whenever I had practice," Artie explained. "I had sprained my ankle once, the year before while tumbling in the yard, and after that, she was always so convinced that I was going to get myself seriously hurt. It's kind of ironic now, when you think back on it, that the only major injury I've ever had in my whole life happened on the way home from gymnastics practice, not during it."

He shook his head with a smirk and took another sip of his drink.

"I didn't even care that she was hovering," Ella said. "I hardly noticed it. I was too caught up in feeling so cool that you were coaching me. I was so used to being the baby, you know? Mom and Dad were always telling me that I wasn't old enough or big enough to do certain things yet, and starting gymnastics was one of the first "big girl" things I was allowed to do."

Artie laughed. "Well, little did you know way back then that I was going to be your unofficial coach for years to come, whether you liked it or not. And I like to think that your success in the sport is largely thanks to my influence, so you're welcome."

"Yeah, but I wasn't prepared for just how anal-retentive and critical you were going to be either," Ella teased.

"Well, if you were going to be continuing my legacy on the spring floor, you can bet that you were gonna have the prettiest lines in the gym if I could help it! I wasn't gonna let you go out and embarrass me by being ugly!"

All four of them were laughing now, knowing how Artie's keen eye for perfectionism and all things detailed would one day come to be an advantage for him, as he began to make a career out of directing.

"Sorry, sorry. I know sometimes I let my excitement and bossiness get ahead of me, and I may have come off a little pushy. But, truly, I was just excited to teach you and share my love of the sport with you," Artie told her. "Especially after the accident, you know, because I couldn't compete anymore, but the sport was still my favorite thing in the world at the time. I wanted to be a part of it in any way that I could. And since the physical capabilities of half of my body had just depleted, I used El as my muse. It was therapeutic, I think, being able to play a role in helping her to get better at the sport we both loved."

"And then, last year, I made the switch to cheerleading–"

"The dreaded cheerleading… they don't have any technique!" Artie cut her off with a dramatic shake of his head.

"… and even though he was pissed at first and didn't talk to me for, like, two days, he eventually came around, and– in typical Artie fashion– did his own research on jumping and tumbling execution for cheerleaders, then beckoned me to his room where he presented me with a typed packet that included all of this information."

"Artie, tell me she's making this up and that you didn't do that," Griffin put his face in his hands and shook his head, evidently embarrassed on his brother's behalf.

"Man, that is so lame!" Sebastian chimed in.

"Listen, listen, hear me out," Artie begged. "I always strive to be the best at what I do, and all of a sudden I– as El's self-appointed coach– was being thrust from the gymnastics world into the unfamiliar territory of the cheerleading world. I wanted to make sure that I was not only prepared, but able to thrive! And I told Ella that I'd support her making the move to cheerleading, as long as she doesn't forget her roots as a gymnast and begin neglecting her technique… and that she doesn't become a Cheerio when she gets to high school next year."

Griffin snickered.

Sebastian was confused. "A Cheerio? Like the cereal?"

"That's what McKinley's cheer team is called," Artie explained. "They're the bitchiest girls in the school and their coach– Sue Sylvester– is a menace. She's been out to destroy the Glee Club ever since Schuester took it on during my freshman year and the principal gave us some of the Cheerios' budget."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Come on, Art, you know they're not that bad. You're even friends with a bunch of them! Santana, Brittany, Quinn…"

Artie shook his head again, showing that his mind was already made up, and Ella realized that it was going to be harder than she thought to convince Artie to let her join the Cheerios next year. She knew that she didn't really need his permission, but she did value his approval and didn't want to go against his views. After all, she did promise him…

"Anyways," Ella began, hoping to get back to her story and change the subject before she had to admit to Artie that she had plans to join the sports team he hated so much when she entered high school the following year. "Art, do you remember what you told me next?"

"I think you're ready to try a cartwheel," Artie decided, motioning for Ella to back up against the wall again so that she wouldn't be kicked. He executed the trick effortlessly, with his arms and legs perfectly straight and his toes pointed. He made everything look so easy.

"I think this one's too hard…" Ella said as she slowly shook her head. "Remember what Mommy said? I'm still learning."

"You'll be fine," Artie told her. "Just believe in yourself, okay? You can do it."

Taking a deep breath, Ella steadied herself, putting her left foot out in front and bringing her arms to her ears. She flashed another uncertain look in Artie's direction, but he ignored it, only giving her a thumbs up instead.

Her first attempt was less than masterful, and her legs were bent, but Artie wasn't giving up on her, so she couldn't quit either. Her second, third, and fourth tries weren't overwhelmingly successful either.

"This is too hard, Artie," she complained from where she was now sitting on the mat, bothered by how easy the skill looked when Artie performed it, versus how difficult it actually was to execute.

"One more try, okay?" Artie pleaded. "One more try with straight legs and tight arms by your ears, then we can go have dinner."

Ella sighed. Even at four years old, she knew there was no use arguing with her very persuasive older brother.

She briefly closed her eyes and replayed the vision of Artie's perfect cartwheel in her mind before attempting it herself, keeping his instructions in mind.

Straight legs. Arms by your ears. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

As Ella righted herself for the final time, her long brown hair was a mess in its pigtails, and her face was pink with exhaustion. She knew her legs weren't as straight and her toes weren't as pointed as Artie's had been, but she didn't care, and neither did he.

"Ella, you did it! That was the best one by far! You're going to be a star in gymnastics class! I'm so happy for you!"

As they hugged, Artie's face wore a triumphant smile, and his eyes filled with light.

By the time they sat down for dinner, Ella's legs were sore and her little muscles ached, but above all else, she was happy that she made her big brother proud.