“Okay, ladies, let’s line up!” Coach Anna’s shout ricocheted off the walls of the Emerald Gymnastics Academy gymnasium, multiplying until there seemed to be not one coach, but dozens. Jenny snapped out of thoughts and dreams of her unintentionally cross-dressing boyfriend and darted forward with the other gymnasts. Dozens of pairs of bare feet, her own among them, slapped the blue foam mat as the girls rushed to take their positions in a blur of pumping limbs, bouncing hair, and brightly colored leotards. Coach Anna walked down the line of girls in her sky-blue leo, grey baseball cap, and whistle hung on a string around her neck, looking barely older than her twenty years, barely older than the girls, looking like a drill sergeant surveying a group of soldiers in brightly colored spandex fatigues. (Actually, she kind of was- she got in the army out of college and joined the army women’s gymnastics team- Jenny hadn’t even known there was a U.S. Army women’s gymnastics team.)

Coach Anna turned to face the girls and spoke. “Right, ladies, I’d like to thank you all for coming today. This is a big day, and I see that all of you who applied have come to try out. Do you know what that means?” Sixteen heads bobbed in unison. “Yes, Coach Anna.” “It means that we have exactly the number of you that we require-no more, no less. So that all of you will get your very own spot on the team for this season. Everyone of you will play all the way through all of the meets for this season.” Gasps and silent shock slowly gave way to excited muttering and giggling and then fist-pumping, jumping up in down in place, high-fives, dances in place, and group hugs, all set to a symphony of girly shrieks of joy. Coach Anna waited before continuing. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand…” her strict military discipline giving way to her flair for the dramatic. “Meeting the EXACT number — no more, no less,- of the National Junior Athletic Association regulation number means we can have a chance to go to the NJAA Championships in beautiful, sunny Miami this year!” This time the girls went absolutely nuts, jumping up and down, shaking hands, hugging each other, bumping chests, high-fiving each other again, slapping each other on the backs or backsides, or all of the above at once. Coach Anna blew on her whistle once and the chaotic noise of teenage girls talking excitedly quieted down. She gave her students a big grin. “It’s a big year coming up, girls…We've got a new assistant coach, too, and she's very excited for the chance to train students of her own. I see so many new and familiar faces among you, and I’m excited for the chance to meet and train you all.So enough chitchat, let’s get started!” She snapped her fingers and pulled out a clipboard with a pen attached by a thin chain.

“First things first. Roll call.” She put her pen to paper. “Shelly Anderson!” Shelly, a girl with and braided carrot-colored pigtails, raised her hand for “here.” “Paige Barnes!” A ponytailed, caramel-haired girl raised her hand. “Allison Cross!” A girl with freckles and light brown hair raised her hand. As Coach Anna went down the list, Jenny automatically, robotically ticked off a girl’s appearance, hair color, skin color, and leo color in her head- she had known most of them for so long she had the data memorized. “Danielle Estevez!” Dark shoulder-length hair, slight, attractive German-ish accent. “Janet Granger!” Slightly Goth girl with loose black curls, pale skin, eyeliner. “

“Are you sure about this?” The woman asked. The boy sighed. “Yes, I’m sure, Mom, we’ve been over this a hundred times.” The woman nodded. Her hands were steady on the red van’s steering wheel, but here eyes were filled with concern, and her hair swished as she nervously twitched her head, something she did when she was nervous. The swishing hair was short and dark brown, such a dark brown that at first glance it seemed black- the color of dark chocolate. The concern-filled eyes were green. The boy’s- that is, her son’s- hair and eyes were the same. “Are you outfitted correctly?” “Yes, mom. She’ll get me whatever I’ll need- and yes, I’m comfortable using it. Well, actually, no, I’m not physically comfortable using it, but I can tolerate it.” “Are you physically capable?” The woman had gotten her efficient checklist-style “interrogation” technique from double-whammy college degrees in journalism and psychology.”Yes, mom. She’s checked me out- she says I have a very good physique.” He yawned and stretched his arms, which like the rest of him, seemed lean and slim but were actually very strong, with an enormous amount of muscle distributed evenly along his body in most places. The only places that looked physically strong were his shoulders and hips, which seemed larger than the rest and so accentuated the thinness of his waist and gave an almost feminine curve and slimness to it.
“Are you mentally prepared?” She asked. “Yes, mom.” “You remembered what happened last time?” She warned. He hesitated. “Yes, mom…I made a big mistake last time. It won’t happen again.” A touchy silence filled the void of conversation in the car. The woman broke the awkward silence with another question. “What are your motivations?” She asked. He started to say something, then stopped. “I guess…I guess I really want to see her again. I like her, mom. I really do. And…I honestly enjoyed myself last time. I did.” “And you’re okay with everything? You’ll get teased; you know…you’ll be the only boy surrounded by girls.” He grinned. “I know. I’ll be the only boy, surrounded by attractive, athletic girls in tight clothing, with them all to myself and no other guys to bother me.” In the mirror, he could see her small smile. “That’s what I like about you, son… never afraid to try something new. Never something boring or ordinary, like ‘Mom, I want to try out for baseball,’ or, ‘Mom, I want to try out for basketball.’ You like to think outside the box.” She smiled, and this time the silence inside the car was a warm, companionable one, not an awkward, touchy one. And then she broke it, too. “Do you have any idea what might happen, son?” He sighed, then started to say something, then hesitated. “I…I don’t know, mom. I honestly don’t know.”

“Jennifer Johnson!” Jenny raised her hand, then looked at her own bright lime green leotard, black curls, and tan skin. “Gina Kelley!” Silver leotard, very pale, white-blond hair. “Ashei Leonardo!” African-American girl, black hair in cornrows, perfect white smile, very cheerful. “Cho Mei Ling!” Chinese, fierce almond-shaped eyes, feisty, long black hair tied back in a ponytail. “Emily Overton!” , short, black curly hair in a ponytail. “Elizabeth O’Reilly!” Green eyes, redhead, Irish,whom everyone always called Lee. “Emma Stocks!” Short, round-faced girl, freckles, shoulder-length brown hair, brunette, . “Lauren Ton!” Short, California blue-eyed blonde, golden curls like a princess’s, , feisty. After Lauren raised her hand, the girls all relaxed visibly, glad that roll call was over and they could start practice now. Suddenly Coach Anna stopped and snapped her fingers. “That’s what I needed to remember! I almost forgot! Ladies, I have an announcement to make. Those of you with a sharp eye for details will remember that this year we meet the exact regulation number enforced by the NJAA. The exact regulation number requires a backup, which is why we weren’t able to compete for the last two years . This year, we have a new backup member of the team.” Gasps were heard, anxious glances were exchanged, bare feet were shuffled uncomfortably.

Two years before they had had a backup member of the team- a girl named Amber Crue. She was beautiful, with a long blond French braid, bright green leotard, and a beautiful smile. She was slim and lithe and delicate, so acrobatic she seemed half monkey and half eagle, and she was cheerful, friendly, respectful, and perhaps best of all, modest. She excelled at every event (so much that Coach Anna jokingly told the other girls to injure themselves more often so she could compete) but her best was at the uneven bars, where Jenny swore she could practically fly.
Then one day at the NJAA championships, at the end of her routine, she tried an incredibly difficult move, and Jenny, and all the other girls, along with the millions of people who were watching, discovered Amber could not fly.The doctors should have been able to fix the broken bone, but when she went into the hospital, there were complications and she never came out. Everyone on the team attended the funeral, but afterwards, all the girls swore an oath that they would never let anyone replace Amber.

Coach Anna noticed the girls’ discomfort. “If you remember correctly, the NJAA regulation number consists of sixteen gymnasts and a backup,” she explained. “Our newest team member is new to most of you- only a couple of you have met Dari, and that was a long time ago.” For some reason, Jenny had the odd, slightly uncomfortable feeling Coach Anna was referring to her.

The red van pulled up into the parking lot of the Emerald Youth Athletics Academy. The woman paused. “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?” The boy in the back seat reached out and took her hand. “Yes, yes I really do. And I really do like her. No, I love her.” She nodded. “I would say that you’re a little young for that kind of thing, but, considering the age I started a relationship with your father, well…I don’t really have any room to speak.” She chuckled nervously. The woman and the boy got out and went in. At the front desk, the young receptionist looked up. Her eyes were greeted by a woman and a boy so alike they could have been brother and sister rather than mother and son. Both were wearing black jackets and charcoal-gray pants, both had tans, both had strong chins, and both had scruffy dark-chocolate colored hair a shade of brown that was very close to black. The boy was very handsome-she wondered if he had a girlfriend. He looked a bit young for her, sadly. She smiled at him as he checked in, and he smiled back. He had a very nice smile-white teeth that contrasted brilliantly with his dark appearance. Despite the dark clothing and appearance, he seemed very nice- friendly, caring, and a little shy, not fearsome at all.

They checked in, then went down the hall until they came to a red door with sign over it that read “GYMNASIUM” in block capitals. This was slightly redundant, and the gym was actually one of several at the academy. They stopped at the door. The woman rested her hand on the door handle. “Are you..” The boy sighed, interrupting her. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure about this, mom. I really want to do this.” The woman nodded. “That’s good, but…that wasn’t what I was going to ask you. Will you…Would you… Are you…Are you going to wear…” For a journalist/psychiatrist/professional argument-winner, she fumbled over her words, badly. “What, mom?” The boy’s tone wasn’t annoyed. It was kind, and curious. “Will they make you wear a leotard?” She blurted out. The boy paused in reaching for the door handle, caught off guard. “I…I don’t mind if they do, mom. But I don’t know, mom. I just don’t know. His hand rested on hers, and on the door handle, for the briefest second. He squeezed her hand in that instant. Then, with a quick twist of the wrist, he turned the handle and pushed the door wide open.

“Dari Varrigan!” Silence in the gym. Not one of the girls spoke. “Dari Varrigan!” No answer. Dari Varrigan!” Coach Anna shouted for a third time. No answer, no one said “here.” A shadow of a scowl flickered across Coach Anna’s face. “Well, ladies, it looks like you needn’t be uncomfortable about our backup gymnast, because it appears our backup gymnast hasn’t showed up. Then her usual closed-mouth grin returned. “I’ll call it out one more time, not because I believe Dari will show, but because I’m too naively optimistic to realize the opposite. Dari Varrigan!” No answer. “Just as I thou-“ “Here.” Seventeen heads turned around in shock. The voice had come from behind them, from the entrance to the gymnasium, what was more, it was male.

The boy the voice belonged to was stepping through the doorway with one hand on the door handle and another on the strap of a backpack slung over his shoulder. He was very good-looking, with dark, casually scruffy hair so dark brown it seemed black, a strong chin, a tan, and brilliant green eyes staring intently and intensely at something about waist height-Jenny realized it was her backside. He was dressed- sadly- not in a leotard, but a dark leather jacket and charcoal colored pants. Despite the dark hair, intense eyes and biker jacket, the whole effect was not of fierceness or intensity, but a surprisingly soft, casual, quiet attitude. In fact, as she looked closer, the attitude and appearance started to look almost exactly like that belonging to… “Derek?” She asked. “That’s me.” He smiled his brilliant white smile.