Chapter 4

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I needed to talk to someone. No, not someone, I needed to talk to Wesley.

            I called him. His phone went straight to voice mail. Just his voice was comfort enough, “Wesley’s cellular phone. I’m probably in an UN conference, but feel free to leave a message after the beep! Just kidding I’m probably in the stinking gym, peace.”

            Tears trickled down my cheek. I longed for his voice, caress and touch. I continued drowning my sorrows by watching some of his interviews online on YouTube. I smiled at his witty jokes.

            Nearly half an hour passed when my phone buzzed. It was Wesley, “Anna.”

            I bawled, “Wesley, I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep it a secret. That was my best, a day! A freaking day!”

            “How?”

            “My roommate dragged me into cheerleading practice and the captain was a bitch. She kept teasing me when I refused to do a cartwheel.”

            He scoffed, “She asked you, Anna Greene, to do a cartwheel?”

            “She was pissing me off since I arrived,” I shrugged.

            “What did you do?”

            “Double Arabian pike,” I couldn’t help giggle. Tears were still streaming down my face.

            “Atta girl! That would’ve been enough to scare her off! Did you do it on spring floors? It’s dangerous if you don’t, Anna.”

            “Relax Wes, it was cheerleading mats. I wouldn’t have done it on concrete.”

            “How’s it like there?”

            “I’d much rather be in training,” I grumbled miserably.

            “Since you left, Lee has upped his game and increase nearly everyone’s degree of difficulty on all apparatuses. His lead girl MIA, I’ve got massively packed routines,” he said.

            “Wes, I’m miserable here. Fly here and get me home, please,” I sobbed into the phone.

            “There there. I wish I were there, I really do. You know your parents—mum especially—would go ballistic if she found out I pulled something like that.”

            “I know,” I sighed.

            “You know I still believe in you right? Your career isn’t over, I can feel it,” his voice was filled with confidence and assurance.

            I sniffed, “I’m not ready to give it up either.”

            “Stop crying, Anna. God I wish I were there with you right now,” he said. I could tell he just ruffled his hair just by the tone of his voice.

            “Wes, I miss you.”

            “Anna, you have no idea how much I miss you.”

            “What am I going to do?” I sighed.

            “You could do college gymnastics next year if you want,” he suggested.

            “I’m not eligible for a scholarship. I had to sell my eligibility when I was 14 for a sponsor to Junior Nationals, remember?”

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