High Flyers Read online

  About the Book

  Being accepted into the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls was all Abigail Rogers had ever wished for. But before her feet can touch the ground, the gymnasts are thrown into their first competition to determine who will make up the Academy team for State Prelims. The pressure is on! Training is harder than ever, and with rivalry growing among the students, Abby begins to doubt if she is, in fact, Academy material.

  Will rising gymnastics star Abby be able to make her dreams a reality?

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHARACTER PROFILE

  OTHER BOOKS IN SERIES

  READ ON FOR AN EXTRACT FROM THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF SPORT FOR GIRLS: LEAP OF FAITH

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  For the real Abby, with all my love

  Do you remember the day that changed your life forever? I sure do. I still get chills when I think back to it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty more days which have freaked me out since then, but this particular day was the one that would make all my future freak-out days possible. Sounds like a bad thing, right?

  I remember the silence – it wrapped itself around me like a blanket. My little finger twitched nervously at my side. That was new. I tried to remain still but it was impossible against the sea of nerves. Suddenly, I heard the music blast through the speakers. I don’t know why it made me jump – I was waiting for it. My body leapt to life like a sleeping cat that had its tail stepped on. I’d heard this music a thousand times before but this time was different.

  I leapt through the air, light and free – like I could fly. My dance elements matched in perfect unison with the music. I remember stopping in the far left corner of the blue matting. I lowered my arms to my side and took a deep, deep breath. On cue, I sprung forwards, sprinting with all my might. I threw my arms out and launched into my first tumbling row. It was a forward tumbling row. I hate forward tumbling. You’d think tumbling backwards would be scarier, right? Not so. There’s a certain amount of momentum to travelling backwards. But forward tumbling always meant I was landing blind. I was never quite sure about where the ground was. And that can be a problem.

  I hurled myself into a forward layout. I then went straight into another followed by a somersault which I landed heavily. But I was on my feet and that is what counted. The crowd cheered. I continued with the routine that I could do in my sleep. I could recite it to you in words without taking a breath – split leap, split change leap, tour jeté with a half twist. Handstand, lever down to splits, push through, V-sit up to feet. The words ran through my head to the beat of the music. They fit like lyrics to a song I had written myself. I leapt towards the corner and took a deep breath, ready for my second tumbling run.

  The second run was a backward tumble, which made me smile. It was my easiest one and I was confident I’d stick it. I pumped my arms as I launched myself into a round-off. The round-off is what gives you the pace and momentum for the following tricks. I pushed hard through my shoulders and added on a backflip followed by a full twisting layout. I landed gracefully and threw my arms to the side, as wide as my beaming smile.

  So far so good. I felt elated and beautiful – this is what I loved about gymnastics. But there was one tumbling row to go and it was the hardest. It was another backward tumbling row (happy days!) but it ended with a double backward somersault. Sound scary? It is. Rotating through the air in a ball two times before landing is no easy task. It required as much height off the mat as possible and a tight, quick turn. I imagined myself soaring through the air and landing it perfectly. The power of visualisation, as Coach Simon would say. I stared down the diagonal of the mat. My vision became a tunnel, focusing solely on the row ahead. The music reached its crescendo and I knew it was time. I could hear muffled voices calling, ‘You can do it, Abby!’ You can do it, Abby, I whispered.

  I threw myself forwards into my round-off. I punched out a fast, strong backflip in the build-up to my final double sommie. I pushed hard off the ground and wrapped myself into a tight ball. I groaned slightly from the exertion. As I finished my second rotation, I could tell I was far too low. I barely opened out of my somersault as I felt the ground below me. I landed with my toes, knees and hands on the mat. I spluttered in shock and exhaustion. That was counted as a fall and I was going to lose a lot of points. I picked myself up off the mat and finished the final twirl in my routine. Tears began to sting my eyes. I presented to the judges with a wavering smile as I tried to swallow the lump of sadness in my throat. The crowd cheered enthusiastically and I could see my mum waving from the gallery. I had given it my all. I straightened out my leotard and shook my hands. I lowered my head and tried to cough the tears away.

  Simon gave me a firm pat on the back and put his arm over my shoulders. ‘Good work, Abby.’ He smiled sympathetically. But I knew he was as disappointed as I was.

  ‘There go my chances,’ I spluttered.

  ‘Nah,’ he said, swiping his hand to the side. ‘You’ve had a great competition, Abs. One fall on floor isn’t going to end it all, you know.’

  I sniffed. Maybe Simon was right. But this was the biggest comp of my life. Every other competition I’d ever competed in was nothing compared to this one. If I stuffed up any of the others, I’d get over it and prepare for the next one. But there was no ‘next one’ in this case. This was it. Make it or break it. I slipped on my tracksuit and gulped down some water from my bottle. The results and presentation would begin shortly, including the big announcement.

  My mum rushed over from the other side of the gallery until she was standing directly above me. ‘I’m so proud of you!’ she squealed.

  I smiled nervously and I could tell she was feeling my disappointment.

  Slowly, the gymnasts gathered on the centre of the floor as the judges arranged the podium. First. Second. Third. This was the first time I couldn’t care less about the podium. All I wanted to hear was the big announcement. I sat nervously bouncing my knee as the presentations were made for each division. I even placed third on bars and second on beam. But that didn’t guarantee me anything. As I jiggled my knee my new medals clinked and chimed around my neck like a soundtrack to my tension.

  ‘And now, the announcement you’ve been waiting for,’ the head judge said as she smiled into the microphone. ‘The following girls have placed high enough to be accepted into the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls,’ she proclaimed. It felt like the list rolled on forever. Name after name, followed by squealing and hugs all around me. ‘Claudia Cox, Mae Choon, Abigail Rogers, Sophie …’

  My heart skipped a beat. Was that right? Could she read it again? Did she say Abigail Rogers? The room began to spin as I whirled around, looking for some kind of confirmation of what I’d heard. I gazed up to the gallery and there was my mum, jumping up and down and wiping tears from her eyes. You did it! she was mouthing.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe it. I knew it was one of those moments. One that would change my life from here on in. I had been accepted into the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls – the most prestigious sports school in the country. I’d been training for this for years and I was finally in. I was in! A school where you did your schoolwork but also where you trained long and hard. National champions came out of this school, not to mention the best coaches in the country.

  Royal Academy – here I come!

  The summer passed in a blur. I remember my friends chattering about starting high school together. I felt left out. They were all going to the same school and here I was trekking across the city to get to my new school. But not even that could dampen my excitement. In just six weeks, I would be at the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls.

  The first day of school came around in a whirl. One minute I was hugging my friends goodbye at my farewell party and the next I was standing nervously in front of the school gates. I felt my mum squeeze my shoulder lightly as we stood gazing into my future. The large sign towered above me at the entrance. The Royal Academy of Sport for Girls – Creating champions for over fifty years. Butterflies danced around my stomach. Creating champions, I mouthed. Would that be me? Was I the next champion?

  Mum gently tugged the sleeve of my school blazer, nudging me through the gates. We walked through the grounds of the school. There were girls everywhere. It was a big school – much bigger than my little primary school. My eyes widened in wonder at the towering buildings among huge open fields. Some girls carried netball bags, others hockey sticks. I even saw girls wearing jodhpurs walking down to the equestrian stables. This school had it all. We followed the arrows which directed new students to various areas of the campus. We passed a sign pointing towards the ‘Boarding Quarters’. Not only was this school a huge sports academy, but it was also a boarding school for girls who lived far away from the city. I’d heard a lot of the boarders came from the country for the equestrian program. I was quietly glad I wasn’t a boarder – it was hard enough starting a new school all by yourself, let alone having to live there.

  New students had been asked to go to the Assembly Hall first. Even though we were all starting Year 7, some of the girls seemed to tower ab
ove me. Basketballers, I thought.

  Everyone seemed to know somebody. But I didn’t. I noticed nobody had their mums with them and I suddenly felt really daggy. ‘Mum, you can go now,’ I whispered.

  Mum turned to me with a look of surprise. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

  I nodded. ‘I’ll be fine!’ But inside I just wanted my mum to wrap her arms around me like a baby. Mum gave me a quick squeeze and headed back towards the school gates. I hovered by the wall, watching as all the other girls chattered happily. I nervously looked down at my blue and white striped summer dress. I gently smoothed my hands over my thighs, even though I knew Mum had already ironed out any wrinkles. I felt hot in the very formal school blazer, which was like a coat you would see on a businesswoman in the city. At my old school, we never had a blazer.

  I turned to my left and saw another girl standing by herself. I could immediately tell she was a gymnast. Gymnasts have such obvious nervous traits. She was standing on one foot, casually stretching out her ankle on the floor. Textbook. She also jiggled her arms as if trying to keep them warm in a competition. She shook out her hands and bounced lightly on her toes as if preparing for a vault run. Clearly petrified. I realised I recognised the girl. She had been in the competition round with me before summer. She had long, straight black hair pulled neatly back in a plait, dark skin and a tiny little frame. She looked over at me and smiled. I picked up my bag and wandered over.

  ‘Hi,’ I chirped. ‘I’m Abby.’

  ‘Abby Rogers, yeah, I know.’ She grinned. ‘Good job on the audition comp. You nailed your beam routine. Amazing!’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ I stammered. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Mae. Mae Choon. Do you know anybody here?’

  ‘Nup. You?’

  ‘Nup. I guess we’re in the same boat.’ She smiled.

  ‘Attention, everyone,’ a voice boomed from the stage. ‘Could you all please come and take a seat so we can begin?’

  Mae picked up her bags and casually linked her arm into mine and pulled me towards the chairs. I smiled lightly. As I sat down, I scanned the room around me. It was vast. There were rows and rows of tiered seats facing a stage. There must have been two or three hundred girls sitting in the room – more than my entire primary school! This was only Year 7 as well. Some of the girls were tall and broad. Others were petite and tiny. But everyone seemed to have one thing in common – a nervous smile and a look of hope and ambition in their eyes.

  As I looked up at the stage, I could see the Academy crest shining brightly on the podium which an important-looking lady was standing behind. It was the same logo printed on our sports t-shirts, our blazer pocket, our school-bags and many other items from the Academy. The crest was in the shape of a shield, divided into four quadrants. In each quadrant was a different icon, representing a quality of an Academy girl. There was a lion, symbolising strength. The second quadrant showed an eagle, which symbolised spirit and nobility. The third quadrant had a plume of feathers, which signified service to others. And the last was the laurel leaves which meant triumph. Underneath the shield was a ribbon which had the Latin words Luceat lux vestra, which means Let your light shine. I felt my heart swell in my chest as I read over the words.

  ‘Welcome to the Royal Academy of Sport for Girls! I am Mrs Brunette, the principal of the college.’ I breathed in deeply through my nose as those words echoed in my ears. It felt like a dream.

  ‘Good mor-ning, Mrs Bru-neeeeettte,’ the girls chorused.

  ‘Now, each of you is here because you earned your place. You have proven to us that you are among the top sportswomen in the country. But this is just the beginning. Now you are here, you need to keep earning your place day by day. Listen to your coaches. Train hard. But do not neglect your studies. You are elite sportswomen and that comes with a unique pressure. Most girls your age only have to worry about getting their homework done on time. But you have to balance your academics and your sport. You will have competitions clashing with assignments. You will face nerves in the gym or on the field, the track or the pool, as well as in the classroom. But managing these aspects of your lives is where the true test will be.’ Everyone sat silently staring at Mrs Brunette. Each girl in the room had the one same dream. To make it as a world-class sportswoman. But we also all knew that that would only be a reality for a select few.

  Next, a tall girl, obviously a senior, stood up to the podium. ‘My name is Elise Goldburn and I am your school captain,’ she said brightly. ‘And, yes, I’m a swimmer,’ she said cheekily. A few girls in the row behind us let out a cheer. I turned around and saw the broad-shouldered girls laughing confidently. Clearly swimmers.

  ‘Now it’s time for you to go off to your various sports and meet your head coaches,’ Elise said. She then listed each sport and directed the students to where they would be meeting. Gymnasts were to gather in the foyer of the gymnasium.

  Mae and I gathered our gear and followed the signs down to the gymnasium. It seemed like the smallest girls had broken off from the main assembly and were headed down to the gymnasium. The swimmers ran off with a cheer and the equestrian girls walked away with a sense of grace and dignity.

  We arrived in the gymnasium foyer and sat down on the floor. Suddenly, a woman with dark hair and dark eyes made her way to the front of the room. A few girls gasped. It was head coach, Ana Petrescue. There wasn’t a girl in the room who hadn’t heard of Ana. She was renowned for her rigorous training programs. She was a hard coach but she was the best. She had produced many of the finest gymnasts in the country, some of whom had gone on to win Olympic medals.

  ‘Good morning!’ Ana said energetically. ‘Welcome to your first day at the Academy,’ she continued. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your sporting career. My coaches and I are tough; I’m sure you’ve heard that,’ she said with one eyebrow raised. A few of the girls giggled. ‘But we are here to make each of you the best gymnast you can be. We are here to make you grow. We are here to make you fly.’

  Something inside my chest swelled. I felt happy and nervous all at the same time.

  ‘Okay, go and find your lockers and get changed. Training session one begins now.’ Everyone looked around slightly confused. We hadn’t expected to be thrown into a training session in the first hour of arriving at the Academy. Nobody moved.

  ‘I said NOW!’ Ana bellowed. ‘Be back here in the gym in ten minutes. Anyone late will be running laps all afternoon. The change rooms are downstairs. GO!’ At that the girls sprung to life. Each girl jumped up and took her bags, running for the locker rooms. Mae grabbed my arm and we raced down the stairs, following the stampede of gymnasts. I suddenly felt a little panicky.

  The change rooms were buzzing like a beehive. Mae and I found an empty spot on one of the benches and dumped our bags down heavily. All around us girls whipped off their uniforms and suddenly the room became a rainbow of colourful leotards. Pink swirls, metallic blues, satin ribbons and soft crushed velvet purples paraded out of the change room as the girls ran for the gym. I reached frantically around my bag, searching for my leotard. Mae pulled her bright green leo over her crop top and looked nervously at me. ‘C’mon, Abby, we’ve gotta run,’ she said, frowning.

  I threw my tracksuit top from my bag. I pulled out my lunch, my water bottle and some notebooks for school. Where was my leotard? I found bike pants, but that wasn’t going to be helpful if I had no top.

  ‘Please wait for me, Mae!’ I pleaded.

  Mae jittered her legs. ‘Abby, I r-r-really don’t want to be late,’ she stammered. I turned my bag upside-down and the final contents spilled onto the bench. But there was no leotard.

  ‘Mae, what am I going to do?’ Mae shook her head lightly and tried to smile sympathetically. My eyes began to fill with tears. My stomach felt like I’d done 100 giants around the high bar in a row.