Page 22 of Dickathlon

It was clear after three events that I was the frontrunner. I couldn’t help but check the leaderboard after each one of my routines. Containing the energy inside of me was taking all my focus. The most I could do was an arm pump and some clapping. Nobody liked a showboat.

I retied my ponytail for the fifth time and took out my phone to focus on something other than the nerves that were still fluttering around in my head. I had texts from Cam, Luke, Quinn, and another one from my parents. They were texting me after each apparatus.

Alex, the alternate from Brisbane, was good. He was close behind me, in fact, but the three events left included my best. The high bar. And unless I colossally fucked up, I’d be one of the top five athletes today who made the national team automatically.

It’d be nice to have the stress of that out of the way.

We were directed over to the high bar as a group. Like the Olympics, we rotated through the apparatus. That way, there was always something going on for spectators to look at, and it sped the competition up. If we did one apparatus at a time, we’d be here for ten hours.

We went in reverse order, so whoever was leading in each group at the time went last, meaning me. I changed out of my shorts and pulled my favorite blue pants up. I started picking at my leotard. I was going to have to get a new one, this one almost felt too tight. Maybe your muscles are just too big. I smiled at the thought, and continued pacing in front of the seats. I stretched my arms four ways and my neck, trying to stay loose. Alex was on the bar now, and I was doing my best not to pay attention to him.

In what felt like three breaths, I was under the bar, staring up at it, waiting for the signal from the judges to begin.

My routine started basic and became more complicated. I had one release towards the beginning, a lot of fancy hang swings with and without turns, and ratcheted up the difficulty towards the end with a series of flight elements.

I started my swing into the first release of the finale, a Kovacs layout. It required a lot of height and I needed some force behind it because I went into another release immediately after. I made two full trips around the bar to get enough momentum. My release was perfect, in half a second the bar was in sight, both hands gripped the bar, and I started to think through the next release.

FUCK!

Before I could ask myself why the bar was so far away, my body slammed into the mat, the air taken from my lungs.

The arena went dark.

“Tyler!”

“Tyler!”

I tried to open my eyes, and despite the intense pain…everywhere…I did. The light came back, and I saw Alex and other people above me.

I felt something on my neck and went to touch it, but my arm didn’t do what I wanted it to.

What the fuck?

“Tyler, you fell,” Alex said. “I think you dislocated your shoulder, and there’s a brace on your neck. You hit your head pretty hard. They’re bringing a gurney over now.”

“Let us through!”

I heard yelling.

“Pierce.” Pierce was here.

“Where’s the fucking gurney? He needs to get to the hospital!”

It was dark again.

* * *

I heard the beeps before I could see anything.

When I tried to cough, it hurt. Everything hurt.

It smelled funny. A hint of bleach and something else.

I opened my eyes.

“Tyler, sweetie. It’s Mom. You’re in the hospital.”

I tried to reach out to her, but…