Icing on the Cake

By Paula W. Graham • Illustrated by Susan Spellman

Marcie lifted the ice pack and peeked at her bruise. Brown, purple, and blue swirls covered her leg just inside her right knee.

“Feeling any better?” asked Coach Jaremko. She sat down on the bench next to Marcie and handed her a towel.

Marcie pressed the center of the bruise with her finger. She winced. “A little.”

“What happened up there?” asked Coach.

“I’m not sure. It happened so fast,” said Marcie, shaking her head.

Marcie closed her eyes and imagined a slow-motion movie of herself going through her balance-beam routine. “I had good power on my throw and a tight tuck position,” she explained. “First I heard a crack, and then I heard a thud—the crack when my knee hit the beam, the thud when I hit the mats.”

Coach Jaremko nodded. “Best thing to do is get right back up there,” she said. “When a gymnast quits, it’s usually because of fear.”

Marcie stared at the hard wooden beam. It looked like a stranger or an enemy, not her favorite piece of equipment. The thought of getting back up there made her stomach scrunch.

“Come on, I’ll spot you.” Coach Jaremko started toward the balance beam.

Marcie tried to stand up. She couldn’t move. She felt as if a thousand steel ropes were keeping her tied to the bench.

“I can’t, Coach,” she called, shaking her head. It wasn’t the pain in her leg; it was the pain in her stomach. She was afraid to get back on the beam. And she knew that if she couldn’t do the backflip, she would lose her chance to compete in the state finals.

Marcie watched her teammates practice their routines. Nikki pounded the springboard and vaulted over the horse. Amanda cast off the high bar and finished her uneven-bar routine with a back-twisting somersault.

“Great dismount,” Marcie called to her friend. She held up ten fingers to indicate a perfect score.

Amanda poured a cup of ice water from the jug and offered it to Marcie.

“Wow!” she said, looking at Marcie’s bruise. “Reminds me of the chocolate icing on my birthday cake.” She giggled.

Marcie forced a laugh.

“Sorry. Does it hurt?” asked Amanda.

“Not really.” Marcie sighed.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“I can’t get back up there. I’m too scared.” Marcie chewed her bottom lip.

“Come on, Marcie. You’ve done that flip a zillion times,” Amanda said.

Marcie blinked back tears. “I can’t,” she said, choking on her words.

When practice was over, her teammates wiggled into their sweat clothes and zipped their duffel bags. One by one they called out good night to Coach Jaremko.

“Ready to try again?” asked Coach when everyone was gone.

Marcie looked around the empty gym. She felt that the vaulting horse and the uneven parallel bars were daring her to get back up on the balance beam.

“Coach, where’s that little beam? You know, the low one.”

“The practice beam? It’s in the storage closet,” said Coach.

“I need it.” Marcie felt like a beginner, but she didn’t care.

Marcie and Coach slid the practice beam onto the gym floor and laid thick tumbling mats at each side of it.

Marcie stepped onto the beam. She skipped, then turned and skipped in the other direction. Slowly arching her back, Marcie leaned into a backbend and kicked through a back walkover. Her left foot landed on the padded beam and then her right foot. Being this close to the ground, she wasn’t frightened at all.

Marcie went through the routine three more times on the practice beam. Then she ran over to the regulation beam and pressed her hands along its hard wooden edges. Vaulting onto its end, Marcie mounted the beam. She balanced herself with outstretched arms as she walked to the middle and gripped the beam with her toes.

“Spot me.” Marcie looked down into Coach Jaremko’s springy black curls.

A rerun of her terrible fall flashed into Marcie’s mind. “Fear . . . quit. Fear . . . quit.” Coach’s words pounded in her head.

Marcie took a deep breath and calmed herself. “I’ve done this flip a zillion times,” she thought. She grabbed Coach’s raised hand and closed her eyes. Instead of seeing herself fall, Marcie pictured herself at the state finals. In front of her teammates, coach, and judges, she saw herself doing a perfect backflip.

Marcie opened her eyes. “Now,” she yelled, freeing her hand. Pushing off hard with her legs, she flung her arms backward into the air. Tucking her body into a ball, she flipped. Both feet landed securely on the beam at the same time. In a split second, Marcie uncurled her body from her knees to her chin.

“Piece of cake,” she shouted out loud to the vaulting horse and to the uneven bars.

“Piece of cake?” Coach Jaremko raised her eyebrows curiously.

Now it was Marcie’s turn to laugh. She pointed to her bruise. “To go with the icing on my leg.”