McKenna, Ready to Fly Read online

  I smiled and waved at Mom, Dad, my grandparents, and my sisters. Then I turned back to face Toulane and Sierra. There was a definite hum of energy—coming not just from me, but from them, too. We were ready!

  All too soon, warm-up time was over. Coach Chip stepped up to a microphone. Beside him was a pyramid of platforms numbered one through seven—the winners’ podium. On either side of it, tall vases bloomed with bouquets of balloons and glittery stars.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Coach Chip began, as the gym quieted. “Welcome to March-fest, held this year at Shooting Star Gymnastics! Today clubs from the northwest region will be competing. In addition, we’ll be holding open tryouts for Shooting Star’s Level 4 competitive team. By the end of the day, two girls will be joining our team. They’ll be back to compete next year!”

  A round of applause went up from the first row of the audience. No one cheered louder than Toulane’s mom and her sister, Tasha. I glanced at Toulane, wondering how she was holding up. She was looking at me—not at the crowd—and she gave me a thumbs-up, which I figured was a good sign.

  “Go, Sierra!” I heard.

  Mrs. Myers shouted, “McKenna! It’s yours, girl!”

  Mara and Maisey simply screamed my name, “McKenna!!!”

  As teams marched in, Coach Chip introduced them. The cheers from the crowd were earsplitting.

  I used to think that meets focused on only one gymnast at a time, but that’s not how it works. It’s like a big carnival, with every piece of equipment being used at once. And in Level 4, when girls do their floor routines, the same compulsory music starts up over and over again. When I heard the music begin for one of the competitive gymnasts, my heart raced.

  Coach Isabelle signaled to Toulane, Sierra, and me to join her in one corner of the gym, along with four girls I didn’t know.

  “You’ll be trying out on this side of the gym,” she said. “I’ll be taking notes, along with two visiting coaches.”

  And then it was time.

  As instructed by Coach Isabelle, we lined up, ready for vault. I was last in line. Being last is both good and bad—bad because I had to wait and keep my butterflies under control, but good because I could cheer on Sierra and Toulane and watch their routines. That helped me focus on mine, too.

  When it was my turn, I took a deep breath and visualized myself completing the move. Then I ran to the vault and sprang from my arms, landing flat-back on the blue elevated mats, solidly within the yellow boundary mark. Yes!

  It all spun by—and our order kept rotating.

  Uneven bars. I gained good momentum with my front hip circle.

  Balance beam. I tottered once and nearly fell off, but I managed to regain my footing.

  Floor exercise.

  On floor, the routine I was most worried about, I was up first. Being first is good and bad—bad because I didn’t have time to think, but good for the same reason.

  I stepped up to the corner of the floor mat and tried to smile while I waited for a judge to signal me to start. When the man with the silver glasses lifted his hand, I saluted—arms extended upward.

  And then, to my horror, I froze up!

  Spooked.

  My pulse pounded so loudly in my head that I wasn’t sure I’d hear the music when it started. My heart sped up like a racehorse, but my mind moved like a stubborn ox. I couldn’t remember how to begin. I couldn’t remember anything!

  Time stood still, as if I were in a horrible dream.

  Desperate, I glanced over at Toulane and Sierra. The concern in their eyes told me that they knew I was in trouble. But in that moment, Toulane mouthed something. At first I didn’t get it, but then it sank in.

  Breathe! That was it! I flashed back to the Hearts and Horses kitchen, where I’d reminded Toulane to face her fears by breathing. Now she was doing the same for me.

  I smiled and drew in all the sky-blue air my lungs could hold. Then I relaxed my shoulders and blew out the gray—just as my music started up.

  Everything suddenly clicked back into place. I didn’t need to think. My body knew what to do.

  I saluted the judges again and then began. I bounced, hands on hips. With my arms up, I did a straight jump and split jump. I kicked up into a handstand and then a forward roll handstand bridge kick-over…run and split leap…slide and splits. Then, believing I could do it, I ran into the round-off back handspring. Yes! I struck a pose and finally—with confidence—saluted the judges one last time.

  I beamed and drew a deep breath.

  A huge wave of applause rose up from the audience. Then I pivoted, head high, and walked off across the mat to join Sierra and Toulane.

  “Unbelievable!” Toulane said.

  “You were amazing!” Sierra added.

  We hugged one another and then watched another gymnast perform. I wasn’t just having fun, I was flying high! It must have been contagious, because Toulane and Sierra performed well on floor, too, even though Sierra faltered a little on her landings. By cheering one another on, we’d all become better, more of a true team than ever before. I could see that clearly in our routines.

  But the whole time, in the back of my mind, I kept thinking that there were only two open spots—two spots—on Shooting Star’s Level 4 competitive team. I didn’t want any of us to be left out.

  When tryouts ended and scores were being tallied, Toulane, Sierra, and I pulled on our warm-up jackets and then waited on the sidelines.

  “No matter what happens,” I said, “we’re teammates—and friends. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” Toulane agreed, pulling out her friendship bracelet and putting it on as proof.

  Sierra and I did the same, and we caught Josie’s attention, pointing at our wrists. She waved back, lifted her arm, and pointed to her wrist, too.

  But when I turned back toward Sierra, I noticed her chewing on her lower lip. With only two open spots, I knew she must be fretting about her less-than-perfect landings.

  Coach Chip picked up the microphone this time as another coach handed him a list of team scores. We watched for what seemed like forever as he read off scores, club by club. Beaming girls climbed the podium to accept medals. A few clubs took home trophies. As each group stood on the platform, Coach Chip finished his winners’ announcements by saying, “Gymnasts salute!”

  The crowd cheered as the winning gymnasts lifted their arms high.

  “And, finally, for those trying out today for spots on Shooting Star’s competitive team…” Coach Chip began.

  Coach Isabelle handed him a slip of paper.

  He listed our order in reverse: “Seventh…Sixth…Fifth…Fourth…” The girls from outside our club went up and stood on the lower levels of the podium.

  My heart pounded.

  Then Coach Chip announced, “Honorable mention and third place goes to…Sierra Kuchinko.”

  Applause sounded as Sierra walked up to accept her team medal. She stood on the podium by Number 3, a hint of disappointment dampening her smile.

  “Second place,” Coach Chip said, “goes to McKenna Brooks.”

  It took a moment for the words to register. Then I heard Dad’s voice calling, “Way to go, McKenna!” Another round of applause rose up from the crowd as I stepped up and bowed my head to accept my medal.

  I’d done it! I’d struggled to come back from my injury, and I’d succeeded. I blinked back tears of relief and joy. I could still barely believe it!

  “And first place,” Coach Chip said finally, “goes to Toulane Thomas!”

  Toulane hurried to climb the podium to my right. Sierra stood to my left. I reached out and squeezed their hands. Then, without being told to do so, we took a bow together. I think we knew that none of us would be standing there without each other.

  Coach Chip continued, “A big congratulations, Toulane and McKenna, for earning your positions on Shooting Star’s Level 4 competitive team!”

  Coach Chip shook our hands as Coach Isabelle stepped up to the podium. “Congratulations, girl
s,” she said warmly.

  As we left the platform, Sierra raced ahead to join her family. I hung back with Toulane, who was standing still. Suddenly, Toulane pulled the medal up and off from around her neck. “Sorry,” she whispered to Coach Chip, “but I’m not—” She handed the medal back to Coach Chip. “I just don’t want to compete.”

  Coach Chip looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Coach Isabelle looked stunned, too. She stepped up alongside Toulane. “Think about what you’re doing,” said Coach Isabelle. “If you pass on this chance, Sierra will fill your spot.”

  Tears pooled in Toulane’s eyes. “It’s what my mom wants,” Toulane said in a small voice. “But it’s just not…it’s not what I want.”

  As Toulane’s tears spilled over, I reached out and grabbed her hand. “Tell them what you do want, Toulane,” I whispered.

  Toulane shrugged. “I want to have fun again, and…” She glanced at me. “I really want to do rhythmic gymnastics,” she said, sounding more sure of herself. I was proud of her—a little disappointed for me, but happy that Toulane was being honest about what she wanted. That took courage.

  Coach Isabelle leaned into Toulane. “Then, Toulane,” she said gently, “you need to tell your mom that. She needs to know how you’re feeling so that you can make this decision together.”

  Toulane nodded. “I will,” she said.

  I gave Toulane one more hug—long and strong. As I watched her walk away, I didn’t know what to hope for. I’d miss Toulane on the competitive team, but I’d be happy for her, too, if she quit to follow her own dream. And I’d be happy for Sierra, whose own dream of making the team could come true.

  I could barely believe all that had happened.

  I’d made the team…

  I’d made the team.

  I’d made the team!

  Monday night, it was finally time to celebrate my success at the Space Needle with Josie, Toulane, Mom, and Dad.

  We met up in front of the Needle with Josie, who got front-door service when her parents dropped her off with their van.

  “I’ve never been up to the top before,” Josie said. “I can’t wait!”

  “I have,” Toulane said. “It’s incredible! But I’ve never been to the restaurant before.”

  We entered the towering building and checked in at the counter. A man in a top hat greeted us: “Welcome to the Space Needle!”

  Then he gave us a buzzing device. “Take the elevator to the top,” he said. “Explore the observation deck. And when your buzzer goes off, head down one level to the SkyCity Restaurant. Enjoy!”

  This wasn’t an ordinary elevator. The elevator operator told us that it held up to 25 people and that when we reached the observation deck, we’d have climbed 520 feet.

  My stomach dropped as the elevator sped upward. When the doors opened, we stepped out into light-speckled darkness. Stars winked overhead, and lights glittered all around below.

  As Mom and Dad walked, hand in hand, around the circular deck, Josie wheeled beside me and Toulane.

  I leaned against the railing and searched the pinpoint lights of Seattle below. “Over there!” I said, pointing into the speckled darkness. “That’s our neighborhood.”

  Toulane and Josie looked out over the railing, following my gaze. Then Josie glanced upward. “I feel like I can almost touch the stars,” she said wistfully.

  “Me, too,” Toulane said, leaning on the railing, head back.

  She looked so relaxed that I had to ask, “Toulane, how did it go with your mom? Is she going to let you quit the team?”

  Toulane shook her head back and forth and then up and down. “It wasn’t pretty at first,” she said. “But when Mom finally saw that I was working toward a dream I didn’t want anymore—well, things went much better. She said she had no idea I was so unhappy.” Toulane shrugged. “I guess I should have said something sooner.”

  I felt a rush of happiness for Toulane and then a pang of sadness, too, for me. “Toulane,” I said, “I’m going to miss you being with me on the team.”

  “I will, too,” she said. “But we’ll be at the gym together when I start taking rhythmic gymnastics. And a lot will be the same. We’ll all still be friends,” she said, glancing first at me and then at Josie.

  I smiled back. Everything was working out.

  Yesterday, I’d gone to Hearts and Horses to talk with Shannon. We came up with a schedule of my helping out for two hours every other week. It was possible to do both gymnastics and volunteering, with a little creativity. I’d gotten used to balancing the two, and I didn’t want to give up either one.

  I glanced back up at the stars overhead. For a few more moments, I enjoyed simply being side by side with Toulane and Josie. I breathed in the cool, damp air and then gazed across the sound at the mountains beyond.

  When the reservation buzzer vibrated in my hand, I jumped, which made my friends giggle. “Time to eat,” I announced.

  We took the elevator one level down to the restaurant and stepped out into a small lobby. A woman in a belted black dress greeted us and led us through the amber glow of candles on tabletops. “Enjoy,” she said, motioning us to our table, right beside a circular wall of glass panels.

  Mom and Dad must have let them know that Josie was coming, because the waiter had already moved a chair away so that Josie could easily slide in with her wheelchair. I squeezed Mom’s hand.

  “Oh,” Josie said seconds after we sat down. “I can tell that we’re moving!”

  The motion was slow, but the whole dining room floor revolved around the restaurant’s kitchen and lobby.

  “This place is awesome!” Toulane said, staring out the window.

  I couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s amazing,” I agreed.

  “You girls are the amazing ones,” Dad said. “so let’s celebrate your success.” He lifted his water glass. “A toast to an amazing student—and tutor—who have made excellent progress since the start of school!”

  I smiled at Josie, and we all lifted our glasses.

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  “And,” added Mom, “to two hardworking gymnasts, who have helped make each other better!”

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  After a delicious dinner of crab macaroni and cheese, I caught sight of our waiter, carrying a dessert on a silver platter. “Look!” I said, pointing.

  “I believe this is for you girls—to share,” the waiter said, setting the dessert down in the middle of the table.

  The silver bowl was filled with what looked like a mound of whipped cream topped with a cherry. Then the waiter performed some kind of magic and poured something into the base of the silver bowl. The whole thing started billowing. White clouds of fog lifted from the dessert and rolled across the table.

  Josie laughed out loud.

  “Cool!” Toulane said, trying to catch some of the white fog in her hands.

  “Is it alive?” Dad joked.

  We oohed and aahed and then each lifted a spoon to try the dessert.

  “Mmmm!” Josie said. “Hot fudge and vanilla ice cream. My favorite!”

  Toulane laughed. “Mine too,” she said.

  “And mine,” I agreed, reminded again that no matter all the ways my friends and I are different, we sure have lots in common.

  The fog spilling from around the dessert gradually slowed and disappeared.

  “Gray sky out?” Toulane asked, meeting my eyes.

  “Definitely out,” I said, scooping another spoonful of ice cream and hot fudge.

  “And having fun together?” Josie added.

  I beamed. “Definitely…in.”

  About the Author

  Mary Casanova loves to read, but it wasn’t always that way. Though she was good at reading aloud in class, she struggled to comprehend much of what she read. She loved to check out books at the library, but as an “active, can’t-sit-still, adventure-seeking kid,” she found finishing books difficult.

  Now, as the author of over two
dozen books for young readers—including Jess, Chrissa, and Chrissa Stands Strong for American Girl—she’s passionate about writing stories that kids can’t put down.

  When Mary isn’t writing—or traveling for research or to speak at schools and conferences—she’s likely reading a good book, hiking with her husband and three dogs, or horseback riding in the north woods of Minnesota.

  Special thanks to Jeanelle Memmel; Patti Kelley Criswell, MSW; Dr. Laurie Cutting; and Dr. Debbie Staub; Dr. Nissa Peterson; and Dena Duncan of Three Gaits Therapeutic Horsemanship Center

  Letter from American Girl

  Dear Readers,

  McKenna is a determined girl who uses her strengths to overcome challenges—and who encourages others to do the same.

  Here are the stories of five real girls who helped their friends, siblings, and other children overcome challenges. These girls set—and met—great goals with a little creativity and a lot of determination.

  We hope you are inspired by these stories. Every girl has the power to aim high and to help others believe in themselves, too.

  Your friends at American Girl

  Real Girls Who Encourage Others

  365 HATS

  Snowboarding champion Katie W. used her passion for a snowy sport to help a friend. “When I snowboard, I feel like I’m floating through the air,” says the 13-year-old Wisconsin girl. “It’s my happy place.” But Katie felt awful when she found out that Gina, a friend from school, had cancer. Gina was fighting for her life. She also was worried about losing her hair during chemotherapy treatment.

  To help Gina feel more confident about how she looked, Katie decided to collect 365 colorful snowboarding hats. “That way, she could feel good about how she looked every day of the year,” says Katie. She also got out her crochet hook and started making colorful hats decorated with pom-poms and patterns. She wrote to snowboard companies and sporting groups to ask for hat donations. She also set up collection bins at her snowboarding competitions.