Born That Way Read Free

takes two calls on his BlackBerry while we’re on the way to the rec center, something he wouldn’t be allowed to do if Mom was there. She thinks it’s not safe to drive and talk on the phone at the same time and Dad says if she didn’t multi-task on the phone all the time no housework would get done. But I agree with Mom on this—there’s not much chance of being hit by a speeding truck while talking on the phone and dusting—so without saying anything I give Dad’s cell phone an evil stare and he puts it away but then he wants to know how school was today. He wants to know if I’ve got a boyfriend. These are things I don’t like to talk about and he’s usually not interested, so I know it’s the long arm of Mom at work.
    Ms. Hackney, the gymnastics instructor, says I can stroll around watching everybody and notice if anything in particular appeals to me. I recognize a few kids from school, but there’s no one from my class. Some people are tumbling on mats, some are walking on the balance beam. There’s a set of uneven parallel bars at the back of the gym that no one is using so I wander over. I feel more comfortable with fewer people around.
    I look up at the tallest of the two bars and stretch, but it’s out of reach. It’s perfect.
    I jump, grab the bar and hold on. My fingers barely make it around the bar. I lift myself up for a few seconds and rest my chin on the bar, adjust my grip then I hang down again until my palms sweat so much I lose my grasp. That’s when my dad comes over, sent by Ms. Hackney, who insists that everyone must have a spotter.
    I look at the lower bar.
    â€œHey, Dad, help me up here.”
    â€œDo you really think? I mean, shouldn’t you be learning by watching the other kids?”
    â€œNo, Dad, really. Help me here, lift me up, I want to hang from my knees.”
    He stuffs his BlackBerry in a pocket and lifts me up so I get my knees hooked over the bar, then he lowers my shoulders until I’m hanging upside down.
    â€œNow what?” he says.
    â€œNothing. It’s perfect.” I can feel my face throbbing from all the blood running to my head. I let my hands hang down and my fingers brush the floor. I look at my dad, who is upside down now and standing on the ceiling.
    Ms. Hackney slides in beside him. “Well, Sylvie, you’ve gravitated to a very challenging apparatus. Do you want to see what else you can do?”
    â€œNo, this is just fine,” I say, because it is.
    â€œWould you like to try a flip over the bar?” I see her look at Dad who shrugs his shoulders.
    â€œNo. This is all I want to do.”
    â€œWell maybe next time, no sense rushing things,” says Ms. Hackney.
    â€œThis is all I’ll ever want to do,” I say, to be perfectly clear. I don’t want any misunderstandings. I don’t want anyone getting their hopes up that I’m going to turn into an Olympic gymnast. I want to hang and stretch. If they let me do this, I’ll be fine.
    â€œThere’s a lot more to gymnastics than hanging off a bar,” says Ms.Hackney. She doesn’t sound pleased.
    â€œNot for me,” I say.
    Ms. Hackney turns to Dad and says, “She’s a strong little thing—girls of her stature can do very well in gymnastics as long as they are sufficiently flexible. And I’d say Sylvie’s as strong as some of the boys.”
    Strong as a boy? Well I don’t mind that as long as I don’t smell like one.
    They turn their backs to me and have a little confab. Ms. Hackney will be saying something like she’ll work on me and I’ll come around. My dad will say no, she won’t come around, because he knows me. He’s known me a long time. He’s known me since I was born, and along with my mom he knows everything about me. Well, almost everything. There’s one thing they don’t know, and even though it’s only one thing