Jimnastics

When John joined his high school's women's gymnastics team as a spotter in his junior year, it was---believe it or not---neither to meet women nor out of any great love of gymnastics. On the first count, meeting women was not his forte. He was thin, gangly, and had an unfortunate case of acne that rendered him all but invisible to girls. On the second count, he absolutely detested sports. "Ludo Suctus" was his motto (the latin "Ludo" for "Sport", and of course "Suctus" for "sucks beyond all reason").

Unfortunately the Massachusetts Institute of Technology disagreed with his sentiment. They wanted "well-rounded" applicants, he was determined to get in, and that meant adding something sporty to his resume. After a brief but painful process of elimination (note to self: avoid 300-pound linebackers in future), he ultimately found himself in a "support" role on the women's gymnastics team.

It started as just that---a quick resume-builder and nothing more. But over the course of that first year he actually came to appreciate his adopted hobby. For one thing, as a spotter he was required to take up weight training, which almost induced him to quit immediately, but which miraculously turned out to be a refreshing change of lifestyle. Unlike a sport (which he still detested), nobody was scoring him when he exercised alone in the weight room. He could enjoy the sensation of pushing his (admittedly meager) muscles to whatever limit they could take, and it didn't matter how his efforts might measure up against anyone else's. Soon he found himself in the gym at all hours, punctuating his usual cerebral pursuits (Dickens is quite the addictive author) with arm curls and leg presses.

Secondly, the girls on the team actually turned out to be... well... rather nice to talk to and to look at. The "look at" part was completely one-sided of course; none of them ever even glanced at him as a romantic interest. But as a conversation partner he liked to think there was a mutual appreciation. Quite often he'd end up at school late into the evening, lounging on the mats after practice with the girls, chatting about their chances of winning the next meet, what to expect on the chem exam next Friday, or why in the world the theater club had decided to do Music Man AGAIN despite the fact that they had absolutely no decent Harold Hill.

For about a year that was it. No romances. No steamy kisses in the school boiler room. Nada. But then in his senior year three amazing things happened almost simultaneously: (1) he got an acceptance letter in the mail from MIT (Nerdvana!), (2) the team actually won the state championships, qualifying them to compete at the nationals in (gasp!) Honolulu that summer, and (3) he caught both Kate and Ilyana independently staring at him on two separate occasions on the same day. This last development was clearly the most staggering of the three. They both immediately looked away as soon as he noticed them, but they were definitely staring. Or at least he thought so. Maybe. On second thought it was entirely probable that he was completely imagining it, but it was a pleasant little delusion anyway.

That afternoon during practice he was checking off the attendance list as the girls were warming up, and he noticed Kate doing it again. She was definitely staring at him from across the gym when she thought he wasn't looking.