Heyyyyyy

Oh my gosh. I feel so guilty. I mean, I haven't posted in almost two months. School started a few weeks ago and it's going great! All of my new teachers are really nice and I'm having fun with my friends. It's been going by so fast and I can't believe tomorrow is the first day of October. The weather is wayyyy cooling down and it's time to start pulling out my long pants. ;) I can't really think of anything else to say..............What should I dress up as for Halloween??? Any suggestions? Comment and tell me!!!

Again, sooo sorry I will TRY to post again soon!!

Louisa

Book review

Hey guys!! What's up? I haven't posted in quite a while. But since my new school is starting soon I will probably be writing some poems about that, not to mention more book reviews. Anyway, I was trying to think of something to post and my friend Rachel suggested that I write a book review. I decided to make comments on Emma, another Jane Austen favorite. I actually read this last fall, but I haven't been reading much new stuff lately, and this is definitely one of my all-time favorites. So here you go.

The scene is set where Emma, a 21 year old unmarried woman who is determined to be a matchmaker, is at her Governess, Miss Taylor's,  wedding. Her mother died years before and Emma and her older sister were left with Miss Taylor. After the wedding she is reflecting with her father about how much her Governess will be missed. They are interupted with the arrival of Mr. Knightley, a longtime family friend. He is six years older than Emma and with the departure of Miss Taylor, sort of takes the place of Emma's counselor, so-to-speak. The book has many ups and downs such as when Emma meets Harriet, a seventeen year old orphan, and takes her under her wing to try to get her married. Harriet falls into many traps of men who she thinks she is in love with, but they turn out to disappoint her. In the end, they all lived happily ever after, but after quite a trial. This is written in a style that you have to get used to, but it is totally worth a shot! This is seriously one of the greatest books ever written. Read it!!!!


Louisa

P.S.
I will be starting Wives and Daughters soon by Elizabeth Gaskell, and I will probably do a review on that when I finish. TTYL!!

The Gym by Night part 7

(Sorry I didn't post this sooner; I just got back from vacation.)

The next morning, I woke up, refreshed, from my “long” night of sleep.

I bolted down the stairs as fast as one can bolt with a broken wrist. Alex and my Mom were waiting for me at the breakfast table. I sat down breathlessly and poured my cereal.

“Kerry, this morning I got a call from the gymnastics coach and he wanted to know how you are doing,” my mom informed me. Fine, Mom. Tell me what the real reason is, I thought.

“He also indicated that you were interested in trying Rhythmic Gymnastics as we discussed. He referred me to the Head Coach at his gym, Ksenia Afanaseyva. She was apparently the 1984 Olympic Champion for the Soviet Union. She sounds excellent.” My mom was a bookkeeper for a manager of Apple, and very exact and precise. “What do you think?”

“Umm yeah I met her. She seems, uh, nice.” I stammered, remembering my exchange with the Coach the day before. “I can’t exactly do Rhythmic Gymnastics in a cast, though….”

“Oh yes you can!” Alex pointed out. “You can always do strength and conditioning. Do you think…. Do you think…. Well, do you think you can climb a rope?”

“Alex, I really think I can’t do it in this cast.”

“I bet you can. It just requires upper body strength.”

“And guess what! I just broke my wrist!!” I exclaimed, as my dog came up behind me and started licking my empty bowl.

“Stop it!” My mom hated when he ate table scraps.

“Anyway,” I said as I went to the kitchen and got a new bowl, “She wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world…. She was really snippy with me and she was like “I don’t have time for you right now,” and she left me stranded.”

“I see,” Mom said slowly, “Maybe we can find a different coach for you. Though I doubt they have any more Rhythmic Gyms in town. And it would be quite a struggle to get you to one gym in the morning and Alex to another one. But with Coach Chip resign-“ She stopped, realizing she had said something that she wasn’t supposed to. I was fascinated. Coach Chip resigning?? That had to be what she meant. What else would “resign-“ mean?

“I’m full!” I announced, “I’m going to Ana’s house. Ta-ta!!!” And with that I sailed out the door without another word. I kept on sailing right down the street to Ana’s house. I rang the doorbell. I did a double take. The doorbell was Ana’s FLOOR MUSIC!!! Ana’s parents were so serious about her gymnastics. Ana flung open the door, scaring me. She saw my open mouth and said: “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, embarrassed. “Oh, by the way, I like your doorbell.”

“Oh, yeah. I tried to keep them from doing it, but they resisted.” She rolled her eyes and then grinned. “So what’s up?” She asked.

“I have some uhh, news.” I was about to tell her and then I realized: Ana would be really upset that the gym was closing. That was probably why my parents hadn’t told Alex.

“SO DO I!!!!!!!” She practically screamed.

“Omygosh what are you so excited about?”

“I qualified elite!!”

“OH!! Congratulations!! I’m surprised Alex didn’t tell me!”

“Well,” said Ana sadly, “She wants to do college; she’s working on a scholarship for UCLA. So we won’t get to go to Nationals together. ;-(

“You made it to NATIONALS?”

“Yes, through the elite qualifier.”

“That’s awesome! Congrats again!”

“Thanks. Now what’s your news?” I decided to tell her. There was one other gym in town.

“I have a new piece to add to our mystery at the gym,” I said reluctantly. “I’m pretty sure Coach Chip is resigning.” I braced myself. Ana’s face crumpled. She ran into her room and I could hear her burst into tears. I just knew I was going to get into trouble with her strict parents.

Great.

Road Trips

Here's a little Haiku that I wrote about the experience of being in the car with siblings for 8 hours a day:


8am: we start
the eternal bathroom stops
8pm: HOTEL!!!!!

I hope you like it and comment if you think it's accurate. ;)

Louisa

John Snyder Poetry Reading

Hey guys! Long time no see!!
I'm just doing a quick post on a poetry reading that I went to a few weeks ago. It was poems by John Snyder, world-renowned for his Haiku. (if you've read my other posts you know that I love Haiku!!) He read Haiku and other forms of poetry. Here's a bio:

John R Snyder's haiku have achieved international recognition. He was an invited poet at the 2004 World Haiku Festival in the Netherlands, where he won first place in the festival competition. His haiku, senryu, renku and longer lyrical poems have appeared in publications around the world, including the USA, England, Romania. France, the Netherlands, and Japan. He has served as a section editor for the World Haiku Review and has twice been a featured poet at the Austin International Poetry Festival.

I thought it was amazing. how he had SUCH a large vocabulary. I mean, he used words that I would never even thought of or heard of. Here's one of his Haiku:

 
open windows –
    from the garden I can hear
    the neighbor’s long shower


I LOVE this poem!!! He is a great poet!


bye 4 now!!
Louisa

The Gym by Night part 6(Finally!)

It turned out I had fractured my wrist. It wasn’t a very serious injury, but as I had never been really injured before, I collapsed from nervousness. I arrived at home that evening, sporting a bright pink cast.  I was enormously drowsy, so I practically fell down on the sofa in my room. What a day it had been. Why had I tried to do that back handspring? Sabrina had clearly warned me to not try it by myself. And now I had this. Ugh. This cast was already getting annoying. BRRRRING! The phone by my couch rang. I sat up weakly.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” It was Ana.

“Oh, hi.”

“Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“I was just calling to check and see how you’re feeling. I’ve fractured my wrist before and it was REALLY painful.”

“It does hurt quite a lot. But mostly I’m just tired. I’m just like, lying on my sofa.”

“I bet. Well, bye.”

“Bye.”

“See you tomorrow!”

“Ana, wait!” I cried. “We need to decide when to go into the gym and search your coach’s things.”

“Oh, can’t we just forget that? It really doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“It does. You just don’t think it does.” I heard a faint voice calling Ana’s voice in the background.

“Well can we talk about this tomorrow? ‘Cause I really have to go now.”

“Ok. Bye”.

“Bye”. I hung up, discouraged. Why was Ana always so stubborn? Didn’t she want to find out what made her coach lose his earnings? And now there was another downside. I was B-O-R-E-D! Not that THAT really fit in with this but…… “Ana! It was Alex, from the doorway. Mom sent you this fan. She said the leg inside the cast will start itching soon and the fan will help.”

Oh, mom. My mom was a nurse and always knew what to do for any health situation. 

“Well, ok. It might.”

“Which it will. When I broke my foot last fall, it itched a LOT during the night.” Being a gymnast, Alex had had lots of experience with casts and boots and things like that.

“Anyway, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” And with that, she left.

Sighing, I turned on the TV, flipping the channels. Boring. Boring. Boring. Boring. Boring.  Boring. Boring. Wait, here was a familiar voice. It was Tim Daggett, the announcer for NBC’s gymnastics. “What competition is this?” I said out loud. Hmm. It looked like…. The Pan American Games? “I didn’t know this was on.” I looked and I looked and I didn’t see any bars, beam or vault. All there was was a big floor mat.

I hobbled into the living room. Alex was sitting there, watching a movie.

“Hey Alex, was there a gymnastics competition tonight?”

“What? Oh well the Rhythmic gymnastics for Pan Ams is tonight.”  

“REALLY?” I have to watch this!” I bolted as fast as I could back in to my room where the tv was still on. “And here we have Julie Zetlin of America. Now this young lady went to the London Olympics last year. She was the only representative of the USA for Rhythmic Gymnastics at the Games,” the announcer was saying. Olympian??? I almost fainted for the second time that day. I watched, enthralled, until midnight, for there was a “Post-game show” afterwards, with interviews with the athletes and replays. “Kerry! You should  in bed, sleeping!” You can probably guess who this was. “Ok mom. I just want to finish watching this competition. They’re having a Post-Game show.”

“Well, if it goes to late turn it off.”

“They’re almost done.”

“Good!” She left the room.

“So we’ll see the Artistic Gymnastics, tomorrow night 7:30pm Eastern Time. We wish you all Good Night.” I switched off the tv.  I sank down in my soft bed and……. I ……. Fell…….. asleep.

Good Morning!

This haiku was inspired by my yard:

the golden circle
peeps over the dewy grass
a rooster is heard

I am posting a bio on Robert Frost. I know, I have not posted in like, weeks, BUT:  I'm just busy.... I know I always give that excuse, but what else can I say?
Anyway, Robert Frost, one of my fave poets.

Robert Lee Frost was born in San Francisco, and after his fathers death in 1885, he moved with his family to Lawrence, Massachusetts, where he became interested in reading and writing poetry while in high school. Frost attended Dartmouth College and Harvard University, but never received a degree. He was a jack of all trades, and had many different occupations after leaving school, including a teacher, a cobbler, and an editor of the local newspaper, the "Lawrence Sentinel". His first published poem was "My Butterfly: An Elegy" in the New York literary journal "The Independent" in 1894. A year later he married Elinor Miriam White, with whom he shared valedictorian honours with at his Massachusetts High School.
In the following years, he operated a farm in Derry, New Hampshire, and taught at Derry's Pinkerton Academy. In 1912, he sold his farm and moved his family to England, where he could devote himself entirely to his writing. His efforts to establish himself in England were immediately successful, and in 1913 he published "A Boy's Will", followed a year later by "North of Boston". It was in England where he met and was influenced by such poets at Rupert Brooke and Robert Graves, and where he established his life-long friendship with Ezra Pound, who helped to promote and publish his work.
Frost returned to the United states in 1915, and by the 1920's, he was the most celebrated poet in North America, and was granted four Pulitzer Prizes. Robert Frost lived and taught for many years in Massachusetts and Vermont, and died on January 29, 1963 in Boston.

And here's my favorite poem by him.......Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy evening. (Very famous poem!)

  Whose woods these are I think I know.
 His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

 My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
 Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

 He gives his harness bells a shake
 To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of the easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
 But I have promises to keep,
 And miles to go before I sleep,
 And miles to go before I sleep.
 

Robert Frost

Robert Frost was born in San Francisco on March 26, 1874. He moved to New England at the age of eleven and became interested in reading and writing poetry during his high school years in Lawrence, Massachusetts. He was enrolled at Dartmouth College in 1892, and later at Harvard, though he never earned a formal degree.
Frost drifted through a string of occupations after leaving school, working as a teacher, cobbler, and editor of the Lawrence Sentinel. His first professional poem, "My Butterfly," was published on November 8, 1894, in the New York newspaper The Independent.
In 1895, Frost married Elinor Miriam White, who became a major inspiration in his poetry until her death in 1938. The couple moved to England in 1912, after their New Hampshire farm failed, and it was abroad that Frost met and was influenced by such contemporary British poets as Edward Thomas, Rupert Brooke, and Robert Graves. While in England, Frost also established a friendship with the poet Ezra Pound, who helped to promote and publish his work.
By the time Frost returned to the United States in 1915, he had published two full-length collections, A Boy's Will and North of Boston, and his reputation was established. By the nineteen-twenties, he was the most celebrated poet in America, and with each new book—including New Hampshire (1923), A Further Range (1936), Steeple Bush (1947), and In the Clearing (1962)—his fame and honors (including four Pulitzer Prizes) increased.
Though his work is principally associated with the life and landscape of New England, and though he was a poet of traditional verse forms and metrics who remained steadfastly aloof from the poetic movements and fashions of his time, Frost is anything but a merely regional or minor poet. The author of searching and often dark meditations on universal themes, he is a quintessentially modern poet in his adherence to language as it is actually spoken, in the psychological complexity of his portraits, and in the degree to which his work is infused with layers of ambiguity and irony.
In a 1970 review of The Poetry of Robert Frost, the poet Daniel Hoffman describes Frost's early work as "the Puritan ethic turned astonishingly lyrical and enabled to say out loud the sources of its own delight in the world," and comments on Frost's career as The American Bard: "He became a national celebrity, our nearly official Poet Laureate, and a great performer in the tradition of that earlier master of the literary vernacular, Mark Twain."
About Frost, President John F. Kennedy said, "He has bequeathed his nation a body of imperishable verse from which Americans will forever gain joy and understanding."
Robert Frost lived and taught for many years in Massachusetts and Vermont, and died in Boston on January 29, 1963.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/192#sthash.9FX6mUAw.dpuf

Robert Frost was born in San Francisco on March 26, 1874. He moved to New England at the age of eleven and became interested in reading and writing poetry during his high school years in Lawrence, Massachusetts. He was enrolled at Dartmouth College in 1892, and later at Harvard, though he never earned a formal degree.
Frost drifted through a string of occupations after leaving school, working as a teacher, cobbler, and editor of the Lawrence Sentinel. His first professional poem, "My Butterfly," was published on November 8, 1894, in the New York newspaper The Independent.
In 1895, Frost married Elinor Miriam White, who became a major inspiration in his poetry until her death in 1938. The couple moved to England in 1912, after their New Hampshire farm failed, and it was abroad that Frost met and was influenced by such contemporary British poets as Edward Thomas, Rupert Brooke, and Robert Graves. While in England, Frost also established a friendship with the poet Ezra Pound, who helped to promote and publish his work.
By the time Frost returned to the United States in 1915, he had published two full-length collections, A Boy's Will and North of Boston, and his reputation was established. By the nineteen-twenties, he was the most celebrated poet in America, and with each new book—including New Hampshire (1923), A Further Range (1936), Steeple Bush (1947), and In the Clearing (1962)—his fame and honors (including four Pulitzer Prizes) increased.
Though his work is principally associated with the life and landscape of New England, and though he was a poet of traditional verse forms and metrics who remained steadfastly aloof from the poetic movements and fashions of his time, Frost is anything but a merely regional or minor poet. The author of searching and often dark meditations on universal themes, he is a quintessentially modern poet in his adherence to language as it is actually spoken, in the psychological complexity of his portraits, and in the degree to which his work is infused with layers of ambiguity and irony.
In a 1970 review of The Poetry of Robert Frost, the poet Daniel Hoffman describes Frost's early work as "the Puritan ethic turned astonishingly lyrical and enabled to say out loud the sources of its own delight in the world," and comments on Frost's career as The American Bard: "He became a national celebrity, our nearly official Poet Laureate, and a great performer in the tradition of that earlier master of the literary vernacular, Mark Twain."
About Frost, President John F. Kennedy said, "He has bequeathed his nation a body of imperishable verse from which Americans will forever gain joy and understanding."
Robert Frost lived and taught for many years in Massachusetts and Vermont, and died in Boston on January 29, 1963.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/192#sthash.9FX6mUAw.dpuf

Robert Frost was born in San Francisco on March 26, 1874. He moved to New England at the age of eleven and became interested in reading and writing poetry during his high school years in Lawrence, Massachusetts. He was enrolled at Dartmouth College in 1892, and later at Harvard, though he never earned a formal degree.
Frost drifted through a string of occupations after leaving school, working as a teacher, cobbler, and editor of the Lawrence Sentinel. His first professional poem, "My Butterfly," was published on November 8, 1894, in the New York newspaper The Independent.
In 1895, Frost married Elinor Miriam White, who became a major inspiration in his poetry until her death in 1938. The couple moved to England in 1912, after their New Hampshire farm failed, and it was abroad that Frost met and was influenced by such contemporary British poets as Edward Thomas, Rupert Brooke, and Robert Graves. While in England, Frost also established a friendship with the poet Ezra Pound, who helped to promote and publish his work.
By the time Frost returned to the United States in 1915, he had published two full-length collections, A Boy's Will and North of Boston, and his reputation was established. By the nineteen-twenties, he was the most celebrated poet in America, and with each new book—including New Hampshire (1923), A Further Range (1936), Steeple Bush (1947), and In the Clearing (1962)—his fame and honors (including four Pulitzer Prizes) increased.
Though his work is principally associated with the life and landscape of New England, and though he was a poet of traditional verse forms and metrics who remained steadfastly aloof from the poetic movements and fashions of his time, Frost is anything but a merely regional or minor poet. The author of searching and often dark meditations on universal themes, he is a quintessentially modern poet in his adherence to language as it is actually spoken, in the psychological complexity of his portraits, and in the degree to which his work is infused with layers of ambiguity and irony.
In a 1970 review of The Poetry of Robert Frost, the poet Daniel Hoffman describes Frost's early work as "the Puritan ethic turned astonishingly lyrical and enabled to say out loud the sources of its own delight in the world," and comments on Frost's career as The American Bard: "He became a national celebrity, our nearly official Poet Laureate, and a great performer in the tradition of that earlier master of the literary vernacular, Mark Twain."
About Frost, President John F. Kennedy said, "He has bequeathed his nation a body of imperishable verse from which Americans will forever gain joy and understanding."
Robert Frost lived and taught for many years in Massachusetts and Vermont, and died in Boston on January 29, 1963.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/192#sthash.9FX6mUAw.dpuf

The Gym by Night part 5(Finally!)

Sabrina helped me learn front and back walkovers, handstands, back handsprings, and even a front flip. (I never did land it!) Rhythmic gymnasts have to be flexible.

“Never do gymnastics if you don’t have an experienced gymnast of coach with you, because you can get seriously injured.”

“Ok!”

“Try getting up on the beam,” Sabrina said, “You’ll be really wobbly at first, but once you get used to it, it’s easy.” I climbed onto the beam and tried to stand up. “Whoa!” I said, as I lost my balance and nearly fell off. I looked around the gym. I saw Alex laughing at me. She tapped Ana on the shoulder and pointed at me. I looked away.  Then I saw it: two girls carrying hoops and ribbons walked through the gym and into a door that said: “SMALL GYM”. “What’s in there?”, I asked.

“Oh, that’s just where the Rhythmic gymnasts practice.”

“Can I go in there for a sec?”

“Sure.”

I trotted over to the SMALL GYM door and went in. I saw Rhythmic gymnasts practicing everywhere I looked. A short lady with a tight bun sauntered over to me.

“What do you want?”
“Ummm….. I-err- I want to learn Rhythmic Gymnastics.”

“Any prior experience?”

“Yes I can do lots of skills, and my sister Alex is a Level 10 Artistic Gymnast.”

“Is it all right with your Mother?”

“Yes she told me to come here with Alex and meet the Coach.” The woman remained motionless. I stood, waiting for her to go get the Coach. I studied her. She had thick salt-and-pepper colored hair, dark brown eyes, and a firm chin. She was wearing a long black skirt and blazer. Just then, a girl in a sparkly yellow leo bounded up to us. She looked out of breath from the energetic training. “Hey,” She said to the lady, “Can you come help me for a minute?”

“Yes. I’ll be right over.” She turned to me. “I’m Coach Ksenia. I was all-around Gold medalist at the 1979 Worlds for Russia.”

“You-you-you’re the Coach?” I had been picturing someone young and energetic, with a colorful Warm-up Suit.

“Yes! Now I have to go help Nicole.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left. And then I remembered: This was Wednesday. I looked at the clock above the door. It was almost 9:30. Ana had told me to be there at 9:15. YIKES! I quickly retreated back to the main gym. Ana was still working in the huge beam area, so I was safe. I passed the time by strolling around the artistic gymnastics section.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Caroline Eugenie!” I jumped. It was only Alex, trying to scare me.

“Alexandria Beatrice! What is it?, I exclaimed.

But my twin had vanished. I decided to try out some of the skills Sabrina had taught me on the floor mat. To me, the coolest looking thing was the back handspring. I jumped back, and TA DA! I did it! I tried several more times, doing better each time. I tried again. I jumped back, landed on my arms, and CRACK! I found myself sprawled on the mat, holding my wrist.

“OWWWW…….” Coach Chip came running over with Ana and Alex close behind.

I heard people chattering excitedly above me.

Coach Chip: “Do any of you know who this is?”

Alex: “She’s my sister and I think she just started gymnastics.”

Ana: “Kerry, are you all right?”

I felt myself being carried out by 2 men. I heard Alex talking on the phone to my mom (presumably)

Then all went black.

New post finally!!!

So as you know, this blog is all about poetry. Unfortunately, I am a really busy person, so I can't post to often:( Please, stick with me!!
Anyway, I was writing poetry today, and I wrote this one called Music. I just thought I'd share it with you:)


                                                                      Music
                                Black and white notes        
                                                                Dancing across the page
                                                                Eighth note and sixteenth notes
                                                                played like lightning


                                                                A wave of applause as the
                                                                pianist comes out.
                                                                Then all is silent as the pianist 
                                                                sits down.


                                                                 He dusts his hands, and lowers 
                                                                 the bench, then he carefully
                                                                 places his hands on the keys.
                                                                 He presses them down and the music begins.


Bye!!!!! 

Louisa
             

 

It's been so long...

Hello! It's been soooo long since I've made a poetry post, so I'll just show you my recent poems. All of these are written by me. Did I mention that I love to write poetry?

Texas February Mornings
Cinquain

Winter
Mornings: Texas
Freezing! 30 degrees!
Below zero? No way! Think of...
Iceland!

Math
Senryu

Math, I detest it.
Fractions, Decimals, Square Roots
Plus signs everywhere

The fate of Spring
Limerick

There once was a baby named Spring,
Who wanted to go see the King.
So she sent him a letter,
asking "Please, would he let her?"
But the king said "No, You poor thing!"

Hope you like them!! (I know they aren't great) :(
Louisa

The Gym by night Day 5

That night, Alex took me aside to her new bedroom. We had only recently been given our own rooms, for our 12^th birthday. As I walked and Alex walked in a backbend position, I thought about tonight. We were going to meet in front of my house at 10:00 and then we would walk to the gym.

“Kerry!” This was Alex, speaking urgently. She kicked over, landing perfectly.

“KERRY! EARTH TO KERRY!” I came to with a start.

“What?”

“You can’t go out tonight! You’d get in big trouble if you were caught. Believe me, I know Coach Chip. Also, you don’t have a key to the gym.”

“Well-“

“Kerry!”

I sighed. “I guess you’re right, Alex.” She almost always is.

After dinner, I called Ana. I told what Alex had said.

She totally understood.

“Actually, I just thought of that myself. I was about to call you. I wasn’t too sure about that plan, anyway,” She said, “So I thought of a better plan. Every other Wednesday is Mrs. Kingsley’s, the lady who works in the office, day off. So maybe after Wednesday Workout, we can sneak in there and look through the office. “

“Great idea. I can come then. What time?”

“Well, Summer Wednesday Workout goes from 7:30 in the morning to 10:00. You might want to come around 9:15, ‘cause my 8:45 Beam coach lets me go early a lot.” I heard someone calling Ana’s name in the background.

“Gotta go. See you on Wednesday?

“Right. Bye!”

“Bye!”

                                                                                        ***

That night in bed, I was thinking about what sport I should try to replace ballet. I’d already tried basketball, and decided it wasn’t for me, being really bad at it. Swimming? No, I’d never been a super strong swimmer. Softball and soccer were out of the question, I couldn’t really think of any other types of dance I wanted to do, and definitely NOT handball. What then? I had a growing idea inside me.

The next morning, I woke up at 5: 00 A.M. I went across the hallway to the computer, went on YouTube, and searched Rhythmic Gymnastics. I had heard Ana and Alex talking about it, and it sounded fascinating to me. A whole bunch of videos of Worlds and Nationals popped up and I clicked on one that said “Team Russia Hoops and Ribbons 2010 Worlds”. I waited breathlessly for the ad to finish, and then gasped as I saw 5 teenage girls in super fancy leotards walk on to the podium, each carrying either a purple ribbon on a stick or an ivory colored hoop. Some music started, and they started half dancing, half gymnastics, to the music. I was transfixed from the moment it started to the last moment of the video. I watched it 3 more times, and each time I sat spellbound watching them. ‘I could totally rock this’, I thought, and I knew this was what I wanted to do. After the 5^th time, I googled ‘famous rhythmic gymnasts’. While it was loading, I thought about how I sometimes felt left out, because my best friend and my twin sister both at the gym every day. A bunch of articles came up about famous Russian rhythmic gymnasts, all in Russian. I retyped and added ‘American’. Here were some articles about Mary Sanders and Julie Zetlin. Hmmm… they were the only American ones who had gone to the Olympics in a long time. Well, I would change that. I would go in 2016! I resolved to talk to my mom about it, and go to the gym with Alex as soon as she got up to go, in more or less 1 hour, and have a conversation with the teacher. But maybe I should retry Artistic Gymnastics first. I decided to ask Ana to show me some skills; perhaps some bars jump, or something.

                                                                                           ***

That morning at the gym, I asked Ana to show me some skills. She told me to go to one of the elite gymnasts because they were more experienced than her and Alex.  She pointed to a teenage girl with dark brown hair and braces. “That’s Sabrina. She did the Olympic trials in June, but missed by this much.”

“Okay!

“But you need to warm up and stretch, first. That’s really important, ‘cause if you don’t, you can get seriously injured.

“OF COURSE! I was only in ballet for 10 years!”

I jogged around the gym with her 4 or 5 times, and then she showed me some basic gymnastics stretches for your wrists, ankles, neck, feet, and arms.

“Next you have to do muscle-building exercises.” She grasped a thick rope. “See if you can climb this rope. Race you to the top!!!” And with that, she jumped onto the rope, and started to shin up it towards the green bell. I lightly touched the cord and tried to hold myself up on it. I did it! I started pulling myself upwards just as Ana rang the bell. Oh, well. Climbing a rope is harder than it looks. You must first hold yourself up with your legs straddled around it.  Then you must let go with one hand, in order to reach higher. You have to do the same thing over and over and over and over until you get to the top.

“YAY!” I thought, as I reached the top. Then the thought struck me: How was I going to get down?

By then, Alex had reached the ground. “What’s taking you so long?” She called up to me.

“I can’t get down!” My muscles started burning, because I had been holding myself up with them for so long.

“Just try to take it one step at a time.”

I tried. FAIL! Ana looked desperately up at me. I could tell she was nervous that her coach would come over.

“Maybe I could just jump. I’m not that high up anymore…”

“I guess. But be careful!”

I took a deep breath, and flew down. I landed perfectly. A stick! I held up my arms, saluting. TA-DA!

“Great. But now you need to go talk to Sabrina.”

“Okay!”

I approached the teenaged girl in a pink tank leotard. She was talking to another girl, an Asian girl who looked to be about 14.

“Excuse me, I said, “My friend Ana said you would help me learn some new skills.”

“Oh! Your name is…”

“Kerry.”

“All right, what kind of stuff do you want to learn?”

Continued story Day 3

“He raised it so high that many of the people that had been with him forever quit. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it, you know with Alex and everything.”

“Anastasia! What are you doing? If you want that double twister ready by Pacific Rim, you need to practice! You hear me? Practice!” A bald man with a stubbly beard and an earring came up to us, shaking his fist. ”And Visa Championships are coming up, too. You want to be on the National Team, don’t you?”

”Y..yes. I’m sorry, Coach Chip! I was just trying to talk to my best friend that I haven’t seen in FIVE YEARS!”

“Well, talk to her later. You need to get to get working. Alex, what are you doing? You botched that tumbling pass again!” He ran over to where Alex, my twin sister, was practicing.

Ana saluted and stood tall. “Yes Sir!” We both giggled. Ana went back to practicing.

I was identical to Alex, and she had been in gymnastics since she was two years old with me. I quit after the first year because I wanted to do ballet, which I ended up doing for nine years. I had been forced to quit last year because I tore a ligament in my arm. Right now I was kind of bummed, because I was out of my favorite thing to do. I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do next.

Ana came jogging over. “How did that look?”, she asked.

“Ummm…fine”, I said, feeling guilty for getting lost in thought and not watching Ana’s routine.

“Oh, no!”, Ana said,.

“What?”

“Here comes Hannah, the coach’s daughter. She’s a lot like her dad. I haven’t seen her in five years. You’ll recognize her.”

I remembered seeing her at Alex’ gymnastics meets. She was tall and plump with blonde curls. She was always bragging that, although she was a year older than us, she was a level 4. Most 7-year-olds are level 4’s. She sidled up to us now.

“Well, look who’s back. Little Miss Level 2.”

Ana tightened her ponytail.

“Well, actually, while we lived in Romania, I was advanced up to level 10.”

“Mmm-hmm. I’m sure, Hannah said tartly, as she jumped up on the bar and fell off, “that if I was seen with a girl who had to compete for Romania, I would go to bed without dinner.”

And with that she crisply walked away.

                                                                                       ***

That night, I walked home from the gym with Alex and Ana.

“Ana, I said as we walked around a puddle,“If you don’t tell me something, I’ll call you Stacy.” It was an old joke. Everyone knew that Ana hated that name.

“NO! What should I tell you?

“Keep telling me about why your dad went missing.”

“OK. So where was I? Oh, yeah. So I said he raised his tuition. The next thing he did was accept a lot more people, so the gym was really crowded. But that didn’t matter as much. Anyway, because he raised the tuition, we couldn’t pay for it any more. So my dad went to California to try to find work, and for some insane reason, he didn’t want anyone to know why he left.”

“I can understand that,” Alex said quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“So this was all before we moved, and of course he couldn’t find any work, and so we moved to Romania because he wanted me to be at a cheaper gym, and because he heard that there were good jobs there.” Ana paused, pondering the thought. “We got to Romania and we lived in a really crummy apartment because they couldn’t pay for my gymnastics otherwise; He never did find a job there, and when you emailed me that he lowered his tuition, my parents practically got on the next plane here.”

I laughed. Ana’s parents were very eccentric sometimes, I imagined it was sometimes embarrassing for Ana.

“The thing is, no one knows why he had to make it more expensive, and everyone at the gym is practically sick with curiosity. I wish there was some way to find out.”

“Ana, there is! All we have to do is go there at night, and look through his stuff!” This was I, unflinchingly suggesting this although I barely knew him.

“Well…I guess it could be a start. But if anybody sees us, we’re done for.”

“Meet at my front door at 10:00 tonight?”

“Sure. You too, Alex?

“No Way.”

See, Alex is really cautious. She and I are twins, but we couldn’t be less alike. I like adventure, while she only does what is absolutely necessary. By then we had gotten to Ana’s new house, and we bid her goodbye.

“See you tonight?

“I guess. Alex, don’t tell anybody, okay?

“Okay…”

“Bye!