Chapter 334 - Every Last Count

Chapter 334: Chapter 334 - Every Last Count

Roxie pushed into the next step and felt another sharp stab tear through the outside of her ankle. This was bad.

The next tumbling sequence was already opening in front of her.

Roxie reached the mark, pulled in one breath, and forced the count back into her head.

Five, six, seven, eight.

She drove into the roundoff and felt the injured leg protest the moment her foot pushed away from the floor. Her hands hit the mat, her body turned over, and for those brief seconds upside down the pain disappeared because there was no weight on the ankle.

Then her feet had to come down again.

She swallowed the curse on her mouth.

The right landed first and Roxie tried to take most of the impact there, but the left still struck the floor hard enough to send pain shooting up her calf. Her leg shook beneath her as she came out of the pass, and she had to tighten everything through her thigh just to stop the knee from folding.

Keep moving.

She pushed forward.

The arena blurred around her while sweat gathered beneath the edge of her hairline and ran slowly down the side of her face. Her breathing had changed too. Every inhale came shorter now, partly from the routine and partly because her body was waiting for the next time the injured foot would touch the floor.

She could feel herself compensating.

If she put more weight on the other feet, the difference would be visible.

Fucking hell.

She’d rather have her foot cut than let herself be the reason why they lost.

Angela crossed toward her in the next transition. For one count, their paths brought them close enough that Angela looked directly at Roxie.

Then her eyes dropped to her ankle.

Roxie knew Angela had seen it.

Roxie gave the smallest shake of her head.

Focus.

Angela’s expression tightened.

Then she turned into the next count.

They could worry later.

Years of practice had brought them to this floor. Early mornings, late nights, bruises, arguments, repetitions until her legs shook, Coach Miller making them run the same section again because one hand had been late or one foot had landed wrong. Roxie had spent years earning these two minutes and thirty seconds.

One twisted ankle was not taking the rest of them from her.

The next stunt group was already forming.

Roxie reached her bases and stepped into position. The moment her left foot pressed against the mat during the load, pain wrapped around the ankle again, and she felt the leg tremble before she could control it.

One of her bases looked up.

Roxie smiled at the audience.

Fine.

Everything was fine.

The count arrived.

One, two.

Load.

Three, four.

Dip.

Five, six.

Drive.

They sent her upward.

Relief came almost immediately when the floor disappeared beneath her.

For a few seconds, flying was easier than standing.

Roxie rose to full extension on her right leg and locked through the knee while the left came free. She pulled the injured leg upward into the next position, and pain tightened around the ankle when she pointed the toe.

Her smile nearly faltered.

She held it.

The audience was screaming.

The judges were watching.

The bases began moving beneath her, and Roxie felt every change through the standing foot. Her body wanted to tense against the uncertainty, but she forced herself to stay long and controlled above them.

One, two.

Step beneath her.

Three, four.

Another correction.

The left leg shook faintly in the air.

Roxie locked harder through her thigh.

Five, six.

Hold.

Seven, eight.

Hit.

She breathed hard as they brought her into the cradle. Then they set her down and pain ripped through the ankle again.

Roxie sucked in a breath through her teeth, but the music gave her nowhere to stop.

She stepped away.

The choreography hit hard.

Roxie turned, dropped levels, rose, and pushed through the next series of movements while sweat gathered along her spine. The injured leg began shaking whenever she had to hold weight on it for more than a count, and twice she felt the ankle threaten to roll again when she changed direction.

Each time she caught herself before anyone else could.

At least she hoped nobody else noticed.

The judges’ table flashed into her vision again.

One judge was writing.

Another leaned toward the person beside him.

Roxie’s stomach tightened.

Were they talking about her?

Had they seen the landing?

Had they seen the limp?

She forced her eyes away.

Five, six, seven, eight.

The count was safer.

The count had always been safer.

The team moved into another tumbling section, and Roxie’s chest tightened immediately.

This would hurt.

She knew it before she started. For one dangerous second, fear almost made her hesitate.

Then she saw Karen already moving into her own pass.

Kendall was crossing center.

Angela was there.

Everyone was still going.

Roxie stepped forward.

Years.

She had given years to this.

She drove into the roundoff.

Her hands hit the floor.

Back handspring.

The injured ankle stretched when she pushed away, sending pain through the leg, but momentum had already taken her.

Up.

Turn.

Land.

Her right foot found the floor.

The left followed.

Pain exploded.

Roxie’s leg shook so badly this time that her upper body dipped with it.

Too much.

She corrected immediately, throwing her chest back up and forcing herself into the next step before the stumble could become obvious.

Her ankle was throbbing now that every heartbeat seemed to pulse through it.

Roxie could feel sweat on her upper lip, across her back, beneath the waistband of the uniform. She had no idea how much of it came from exertion and how much came from trying to pretend that walking did not hurt.

Angela crossed close again.

This time her hand brushed Roxie’s for the smallest moment during the transition.

It could have looked like choreography.

Roxie knew better.

Angela squeezed once.

Roxie squeezed back.

Then they separated.

Something about that tiny contact made Roxie’s throat tighten.

She wanted to finish this with them.

That was all.

Whatever happened afterward could happen afterward.

Ice.

A brace.

A doctor.

A lecture from Coach Miller.

Zac losing his mind when he saw her limping.

All of it could wait.

Right now, Briarwick was still performing.

And so was she.

The next transition came before Roxie had time to think about anything else. The team compressed toward the final stunt section, and she forced herself across the floor with the rest of them.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Roxie stepped into their hands and let them take her up.

The relief of leaving the floor was immediate. The pain stayed, but the heavy pressure disappeared once her weight was off the ankle. She rose through the stunt, locking through her right leg while the injured left came free, then pulled the leg into position and pointed the toe even when the movement sent another ache around the outside of the joint.

The crowd reacted, and Roxie kept smiling.

She could feel the bases moving underneath her and hear their breathing beneath the music. Somewhere beyond the lights, the audience was screaming hard enough that the sound seemed to vibrate through the floor. The formation shifted into the final pyramid, the side flyers rising around her while Roxie stayed high through the center.

Hands connected. Bodies locked into place. The arena erupted.

Roxie held the position while her injured leg trembled behind her. She fought the movement, keeping it small enough that she hoped the judges could not see it, even as sweat slid from her temple and her standing leg started burning from carrying almost all of her balance.

Across the formation, Angela caught her eye.

There was no hiding it from her anymore.

Angela knew.

Roxie could see the worry before Angela forced the competition smile back onto her face.

Roxie smiled back.

Finish.

That was all they needed.

The pyramid shifted through the final transition. Roxie released one connection, caught another, then felt the bases move beneath her again. Her balance pulled backward for a fraction of a count, and panic shot through her chest, but she tightened through her core and corrected before the movement became visible.

Five, six, seven, eight.

The stunt locked.

The audience screamed even louder.

For one brief moment, Roxie let herself look past the judges at the lights, the screens, the crowd, and Briarwick written across the giant display above them.

All those mornings she had wanted to stay in bed, all the nights they had left the gym exhausted, every bruise, every argument with the team, every time Coach Miller had made them repeat something because one hand had been late or one foot had landed wrong had brought them here.

Years for this.

The bases dipped and brought her down into the cradle. Their arms caught her cleanly, but the second they set her onto the floor, pain shot through the left side hard enough that her vision blurred.

Roxie stumbled.

One of the bases reached for her, but she pulled herself upright before the movement could stop.

The final basket section was already coming.

The music gave them no mercy.

Roxie moved into position, trying to bury the limp inside the choreography while her bases reset around her. One of them looked directly at the ankle.

"Roxie."

"I’m good."

The girl did not look convinced.

Roxie met her eyes. "Throw me."

There was no time to argue.

Five, six. Dip. Seven. Throw.

Roxie left the floor.

For a few seconds there was nothing underneath her, and that was the easiest part now. She hit the first skill at the top, opened, and saw the bases waiting below before dropping cleanly into their arms.

The crowd exploded.

They set her feet down again, and pain bit through the ankle immediately, but they were already reloading.

One more.

The final one.

Roxie breathed in.

Five, six. Dip. Seven. Throw.

The bases launched her higher.

The arena dropped away as Roxie turned through the second basket, the lights blurring around her until the rotation finished and she opened into the fall. For one fraction of a second, fear punched through everything else.

Then she saw the hands waiting.

Trust them.

She dropped.

The catch was perfect.

The scream from the arena almost swallowed the music.

Her bases set her down.

The left foot hit the mat, and pain ripped through her so hard that her knee nearly folded completely.

Roxie caught herself on the right leg.

The final formation was already moving.

Angela was several feet away and saw it happen. Her eyes widened, but Roxie shook her head once.

She pushed off the right foot and forced the left to keep up. Every step sent another pulse through the ankle, but the final mark was close. Kendall reached her position first. Karen crossed behind Roxie. Angela snapped into place on the other side.

Roxie reached them just in time.

Five, six, seven, eight.

The music cut.

Roxie hit the final pose and smiled toward the judges while her chest heaved beneath the uniform. The arena erupted around them, but all she could feel was the pulse inside the swollen ankle.

Then everything stopped.

All the girls shouted and hugged each other.

Roxie tried to step out of the final pose but her left leg refused.

She stayed where she was while the rest of Briarwick started breaking formation around her.

Karen turned first, already crying and laughing at the same time. "We did it!"

Roxie tried to move toward her and failed.

Angela noticed immediately.

"Roxie?"

Roxie gave a breathless laugh. "I can’t move."

Karen’s expression changed. "What?"

"My leg."

Angela was already beside her.

"Okay. Stay there."

"I have to get off the floor."

"We know."

The competition staff were already motioning Briarwick toward the exit because the next finalist needed the floor. Around them, the rest of the team was crying, hugging, screaming that they had hit, completely overwhelmed by the performance.

Roxie was still standing in the middle of it, unable to take another proper step.

Karen reached her first and pulled one of Roxie’s arms over her shoulders. Angela took the other side and wrapped an arm around Roxie’s waist.

"I can walk."

"Sure," Karen said through tears. "That’s why you’re standing here like a statue."

Roxie laughed.

Then she started crying too.

She could not tell when it happened. Maybe when the music stopped. Maybe when she realized the routine was actually over. Maybe when Angela and Karen took her weight and she understood that she had finished every count.

They had spent years building toward this.

Now it was done.

Angela was crying openly, mascara beginning to darken beneath her eyes while she kept her arm tight around Roxie.

"Oh my God," she said, laughing through it. "We actually finished Nationals."

Karen made a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"Our last one."

That made Roxie cry harder.

The three of them started toward the edge of the floor together, Karen and Angela carrying enough of Roxie’s weight that the injured foot barely touched the mat. The rest of Briarwick gathered around them as they moved.

Tori came up crying so hard that her face had gone completely red. "We hit!"

"We hit," Karen shouted back.

Kendall appeared beside them with tears running down her face even though she was still trying to hold herself together. Roxie looked at her, and Kendall looked back.

Kendall reached over and grabbed Roxie around the shoulders as much as she could without knocking Angela away.

"We fucking hit."

Roxie nodded, crying too hard to answer properly.

Coach Miller was waiting near the edge of the floor. He looked at the team coming toward him, every girl crying, laughing, and clinging to someone else, and for a moment he seemed unable to say anything.

Then his eyes dropped to Roxie being carried between Karen and Angela.

His expression changed immediately.

"What happened?"

"She rolled her ankle," Angela said.

"When?"

"Middle," Roxie answered.

Coach Miller stared at her. "Middle?"

Roxie gave him a weak smile.

Karen tightened her arm around her. "Apparently she decided to finish Nationals first and tell us later."

Coach Miller closed his eyes briefly.

Roxie nearly laughed.

The next team was already being announced behind them, and another roar rolled through the arena as Briarwick crossed into the tunnel.

The second the competition floor disappeared behind them, whatever control the team still had finally disappeared too.

Tori grabbed Marissa and started crying again. Ava covered her face with both hands. Kendall leaned against the wall, laughing while she wiped tears from her cheeks.

Karen and Angela helped Roxie toward the nearest bench.

The moment they lowered her onto it, Roxie looked back toward the tunnel.

She could still hear the arena, the music, and another team competing where Briarwick had been less than a minute earlier.

It was over.

Their routine was already behind them.

That realization hurt almost as much as her ankle.

Angela sat beside her and wrapped both arms around her. Roxie hugged her back, and Karen dropped onto the other side and joined them.

Nobody said anything for a while.

They simply held each other and cried.

Around them, the rest of Briarwick slowly crowded closer until it became one messy group of sweaty uniforms, loose bows, ruined makeup, trembling hands, and exhausted girls trying to fit themselves into the same hug.

Roxie laughed into Karen’s shoulder.

Her ankle was throbbing.

Her whole body was exhausted.

She had no idea what the judges had written down or where Briarwick would place.

For once, that was not the first thing in her head.

They had finished every last count together.