Read Online Return to You (Letters to Nowhere Part 3) by Julie Cross - Free Book Online Page A

obstacle in front of me. Which is why, when I jump up to the high bar and swing into the second half of my bar routine only to drop back onto the mats, it’s not just TJ that I’m pissed at.
    “Dammit.” I jerk my grips back into place and head for the chalk bowl. “I hate this.”
    “Just do it and stop whining,” TJ snaps.
    I glare at him and turn my focus back to the bars, tugging down my tank top in the process. It’s weird not having a leotard on. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath.
    Just let go. Just let go. Just let go.
    But the second I get to the swings before my dismount, it’s like my hands are glued to the bar. Like I can’t possibly see myself performing this skill anymore. It’s gone from my mind, gone from my muscle memory.
    I sink to my knees on the mat staring at the low bar. “I’m not going to do it,” I whisper. “I know you don’t understand this kind of fear, but I know my head and it’s not happening tonight.”
    “We’re not done yet, Campbell.” TJ walks away, grabs a spotting block and drags it over beneath the high bar. “What’s the skill called that’s right before your dismount?”
    “The blind change?”
    TJ hops up onto the block, reaching out for the high bar and rubbing his hands over it. “Is that the thingy where you spin and turn your hands backwards and swing the other direction?”
    “Uh-huh.” I pick myself up off the mat, feeling five different kinds of defeat.
    “So do that move and then keep going around.”
    I level him with a look. “You mean a front giant?”
    “Yep, front giant.”
    I’m shaking my head, having no clue how this will possibly help, but obviously TJ is too hardheaded to accept answers without evidence. As I’m jumping from low bar to high bar, I hear TJ say, “Do two of those front giant things in row.”
    Front giant things? Seriously. Why am I listening to someone who doesn’t even know basic uneven bar terminology? Probably because I’m desperate. And maybe a little bit stupid.
    When I do the blind change, heading into the forward giant swings, I’m momentarily startled by TJ’s hand gripping my wrist. Is he trying to spot me? This is not the kind of dismount you can spot someone on and besides, he said just to do the swings, not the dismount.
    I swing under the bar for the second front giant and then suddenly my hand is ripped from the bar, my momentum heading up and back forcing my other hand off the bar, too. I’m panicking inside, but years of gymnastics have trained my body to tuck and roll when flying out of control. I end up flipping forward about one and half times, landing on my butt and then rolling over backward to regain control. I spring up to my feet, staring at TJ, my mouth hanging open. My heart had literally jumped up to my throat and is now climbing back down.
    “You… you…” I sputter. “Why did you do that? You could have killed me!”
    He shrugs and hops down from the spotting block. “Got you to let go. That’s something, right?”
    “Jesus Christ!” I swipe the water bottle from the side of the chalk bowl and pelt it at him with all my force.
    My hands are shaking, my heart still halfway between my throat and chest. I grip the sides of the chalk bowl and lean over, catching my breath, trying to calm down. TJ’s face twists with anger. He grabs the other side and leans in close to me.
    “Look at me!” He’s so intense right now, I can’t help but follow orders despite what that plan has done to me thus far. “You’re right, Campbell, I don’t get why you’re afraid. I think it’s fucking stupid to be scared of something you’ve done hundreds of times. But what we do have in common is that I keep seeing your head hit that high bar and I need you to do it right so that I don’t have to see that image every time I look at these bars. The difference is, I’m willing to do something about it and you’re fine with throwing away your chances at winning Nationals, at qualifying for