Perfect 10.0 (Part 1)

I can’t freakin’ believe that he did just did that. He thinks he can just disappear for a few months then call me up on my cell and order me around? I toss my backpack onto the couch like always and glance up quickly to make sure it landed. It did, of course; I had taken up basketball in my spare time recently and found out that I was pretty good. Not that I’d be joining any teams or something crazy like that. On the way to my room I pass by the picture. The picture. He was in it; that lousy man that I have to call my father. He’s more like a man that comes in every few months to hook up with my mom, whom I have to call "sir". He’s in the middle of the picture with his arms around me and my mom; with my two sisters and brother standing in front of us; well my sisters are sitting, but still. We all have fake smiles plastered onto our faces for the camera. I shuddered at the photo and kept walking down the hall.

Turning into my room that I share with my two sisters, Lucy and Tiffany, I walk straight into Tiffany and her boyfriend Jack making out and being all touchy-feely. I give them the evil eye and Tiffany looks up.
"Go away Isabel." I re-direct my route and start to head back to the front door. "And close the door so mom doesn’t see us when she gets home." I stomp back and slam the door shut. Mom would go ballistic if she saw that.

I grab an apple on my way outside and start jogging. If I jog the whole way, I should be back by dinner; but I wasn’t taking any chances and I pushed myself faster. My sisters are twins, but couldn’t be more different if they tried. Lucy is extremely conservative with her clothes, but she is so amazingly pretty that it doesn’t matter. All the boys seem to be after her anyway. She’s still with her first boyfriend and they’re going steady. The most I’ve ever seen them do is hold hands; but you can never know what happens behind closed doors. His name is like Peter or Joe or something, he doesn’t talk much and I don’t like him; so honestly, I don’t give a damn what his name is.

Now Tiffany is a totally different story. Like, you know the type that has a different boyfriend every week. Yeah, that’s her. As far as I know, she’s still a virgin, but hell, with her it’s all a mystery. So far, Jack has the record for the longest relationship with her. It’s been about one month and now they’re getting pretty serious. Lucy and Tiff are identical so they both have the amazingly perfect body: big boobs and butt, huge lips, (but not disgustingly huge) and a skinny little body. Plus, they’re both 19, so they get all the college boys looking at them. The only down side to their build is that they’re both stuck at 5’ 1 ½’’, and they hate it. Well, at least Lucy does, Tiffany doesn’t care because you can make out with a tall guy even if you’re short, you just have to lie down. No problem there.

I contemplate going on the back roads, but decide against it. I’m gonna have to go there soon enough anyway. So I continue on the main road and soon I can see the building looming up in front of me. ‘JGP- Takes beginners!’ My father owns the place; it stands for: James’ Gymnastic Paradise. How disgusting is that? Okay…I admit it. I used to get butterflies in my stomach every time I went there. But I would get them just because I was going to see him; no, not my father, but rather the coach that every girl was after. For some odd reason he picked me. I was so happy at the time, but I was young and foolish. I didn’t realize that he was such a pervert and creep. I have bad, bad memories coming from there.
For some unknown reason, I decided to take a quick look inside.

My father said that it had been completely redone and there was a whole new staff. Even the teams were different, so none of the girls that hated me were gonna be there. That’s why he said that I had no reason to say no to his offer. So I would get to go in there and use all the equipment for free. Plus any lessons that I needed were already paid for, thanks to my mom. Sounds perfect, right? Wrong. It’s not perfect when you’re being forced to go there just because you skipped school a few times. So, in my dad’s way of thinking, going back to gymnastics is going to teach me "discipline" and "control." Yup, okay dad you can think like that.

I take a look around the gym. From the front doors, you walk into a viewing area. It has benches and chairs and tables; along with a microwave and refrigerator. Off to one side, there are doors to lead into the gym. I check to make sure no one is in the gym. There isn’t. It’s Saturday so the gym is closed for the day. Walking into the gym, I see that my father has told me the truth. The gym has been completely redone. Even the equipment and mats are new.

As I step out of the doorway, I see a spring floor right in front of me. It’s a deep blue color and has black Velcro strips to keep the separate pieces together. To my right is a 60ft vault runway with a new springboard and vault at the end. Just behind the vault is a foam pit that you can chuck new moves into without getting hurt. You can also tumble into it on the other side. I look to the left and see a trampoline and another mat. This one has no spring, I can tell. It’s more of a competition floor. Also there are some beams set at different heights, and a set of parallel and un-even bars. A mushroom and horse are placed near the p-bars for the guy gymnasts. A water fountain for drinking and small cubbies for the gymnasts finished off the room. Good job decorating Dad. I thought to myself and left the building; making it home just in time for dinner.

It was a chilly Saturday morning, around 10:00 AM. I was watching my little brother’s baseball game, like I had been for an hour already. I slid my hands into my back pockets to keep them warm. Suddenly I yawned really big and loudly. Ugh, I thought, why did I come? I could have slept in! My brother was the short stop for this inning (Okay, for all you non-baseball players out there, the short stop is between second and third base. I think…) Anyway he had just made an amazing play (for a six year old) and my family were congratulating him. Someone grabbed my wrists and took my hands out of my back pockets. I felt strong calloused fingers intertwine with my own fingers.
Now, let me tell you something. At school, I’m kind of known for my cool personality, so just in case this was one of the boys from school messing with me, I wasn’t gonna freak out.
I casually look over at who it is. I’m absolutely positive that my jaw dropped, because he starts laughing (yeah, it’s a he).

"I hope I didn’t scare you." God, he had the sexiest voice ever! I had never noticed it before. It sent shivers up my spine.
"Nope," He’s completely and totally off limits Isabel. Don’t even think about how he looks right now with his hair all messed up. "But what are you doin’?" I ask, looking pointedly down at our intertwined hands.
But right as I said that he puts something in my hand, and gently removes his from mine and steps away.

"That’s from your father." He said with that voice of his. He runs off with his friends that I hadn’t noticed before. Still running, he turns around and points at me. "Hasta luego Isabella!" He spins around and catches up with his friends, and then he was gone. I stick the piece of paper in my back pockets without even looking at it. My mom looks at me and smiles. "He’s cute" she mouths to me. I give her a half smile and look away. He’s also completely off limits. First of all, he’s new; he’s only been here a few months. Everyone knows you don’t date the new guy. Second, I hear he’s a total geek. I’m not failing or anything, but I don’t get straight A’s so I can’t date someone that’s gonna be all crazy ‘bout my grades.

Thirdly, he’s Latino, so I’d get shit from everyone at school if I went out with him.
I went to go sit on the bleachers. I was painfully aware of the piece of paper waiting in my back pocket. I slowly take it out, and carefully open it; fully expecting it to explode or something. Instead, inside there were a time and date, in my dad’s sloppy handwriting.
8:00 AM, every Saturday and Sunday. Right after school Monday-Friday. Eight o’clock in the morning? He’s ruining my life. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have skipped school, but I was bored listening to Mr. Mazone talk about math. But sending me to the gym everyday wasn’t the way for punishment. I’d rather write an essay, or do detention.