Somersaults and Dreams: Rising Star. Cate Shearwater

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said Nancy who was sitting next to her. ‘Were you dreaming of gym again, Ellie?’

      Ellie felt herself blushing. ‘Yeah. How could you tell?’

      ‘Oh, you were doing funny things with your hands,’ said Nancy with a grin.

      ‘And you were humming your floor music in your sleep!’ added Tam, who was sitting across the table from Ellie.

      Ellie laughed. ‘No, I wasn’t!’

      Tam just shrugged. ‘So what was it this time? Commonwealth Games . . . the World Championships . . .?’

      ‘Olympics,’ Ellie admitted.

      ‘Ooh – I like it. Dream big!’ said Nancy. ‘How did you get on?’

      ‘You realise it was only a dream – right?’ Tam asked her.

      ‘Yeah, but it could be one of those fortune-telling dreams, couldn’t it!’ said Nancy. ‘I’ve had one of those. In it Sasha was telling me I was talking too much during warm-up – and then the very next day she actually did! Spooky, huh!’

      ‘Um – that doesn’t exactly take a crystal ball!’ said Tam. ‘Sasha tells you off practically every other day!’

      Nancy huffed loudly. ‘Yeah, well, it doesn’t take a fortune-teller to know that Ellie’s going to make it to the Olympics either,’ she declared. ‘I mean, she’s so dedicated she even keeps up her training in her sleep!’

      Ellie laughed, and so did her two best friends. It was easy to see they were twins. Even though Tam had dark curly hair, whilst Nancy’s was straight and straw-coloured, they shared the same warm chocolate-coloured eyes and upturned noses – now even more covered in freckles than ever after a fortnight in Cornwall, staying with Ellie’s family.

      ‘Anyway,’ Nancy continued. ‘I want to know how Ellie got on in this Olympic dream! Did you end up on the podium with a gold medal round your neck? I bet you did!’

      ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ said Ellie with a sigh. ‘But it was more of a nightmare. They kicked me out because I hadn’t even qualified for Junior British Champs – let alone the Olympic team!’

      ‘Ouch!’ said Nancy, pulling a face. ‘Classic anxiety dream then. I get them all the time – only usually, in mine, I’m doing a routine in my pyjamas.’

      Ellie laughed at the thought of Nancy taking to the floor at the Olympics in her fluffy, kitten-covered PJs.

      ‘That’s nothing,’ said Tam. ‘I once dreamed I was performing in one of Nancy’s leotards!’

      Nancy shrieked with laughter. ‘Which one? Ooh – I bet you’d look gorgeous in my pink-and-purple comp leo – the one with all the sparkles!’

      Tam rolled his eyes and Ellie glanced at him curiously. Despite being shorter than Nancy – and being born three minutes after her – Tam always seemed like the older sibling. He was calm, patient and a very talented gymnast. Ellie couldn’t imagine him getting worried about anything, let alone competitions.

      ‘I didn’t think you got nervous,’ she said.

      Tam looked serious for a second. ‘Of course I do. Everyone does.’

      ‘But you got selected for GB Junior squad!’ said Nancy. ‘And you already know you’re going to British Champs. What on earth have you got to be worried about?’

      Tam shrugged. ‘I’ve just been really lucky this year.’

      ‘Not lucky,’ said Ellie. ‘You’ve worked really hard. You deserve all your success – you earned it!’

      ‘There’s always an element of luck in any sport,’ insisted Tam. ‘I mean, if you hadn’t got chickenpox last term and missed Grades you’d have qualified for Junior British Champs then. That was epic bad luck!’

      ‘Maybe,’ Ellie said, doubtfully. Privately she still wondered whether she’d have qualified, even if she hadn’t been ill.

      ‘And it’s totally bad luck you keep shooting up like a sunflower, sis,’ Tam added, helping himself to the last of the home-made Cornish pasties Ellie’s mum had packed for the journey. Apart from gymnastics, there was nothing Tam loved more than food, and he seemed to be perpetually hungry.

      ‘It’s true,’ said Nancy, shoving her long gangly legs out into the train corridor. ‘Look at me. I’m officially the Big Friendly Giant of the Academy.’

      ‘Which is bad luck for me because it makes me look like a hobbit,’ said Tam. ‘And worse luck for you because everyone knows a sudden growth spurt can throw a gymnast off her game.’

      ‘Yeah, but it’s not like that’s the only reason I keep failing to qualify for British Champs,’ said Nancy, pulling a face. Then she sighed. ‘Maybe I’m just not good enough.’

      ‘Of course you are!’ Ellie protested. ‘You are an amazing gymnast – ten times more powerful than me. I’d love to be able to vault like you do.’

      ‘Yeah, but you know what Emma says,’ said Nancy with a resigned shrug. Emma Bannerdown was the director of the London Gymnastics Academy. A former Olympian herself, she knew exactly what it took to get to the top. ‘Gymnastics is not just about being physically strong. It requires mental strength too, and that means not falling to pieces in a competition.’

      ‘Yeah, well, Emma obviously thinks you have both kinds,’ said Ellie, firmly. ‘Or she wouldn’t be giving you another chance.’

      ‘Or promoting you and Ellie to Pre-Elite squad,’ said Tam who had polished off his pasty and was now helping himself to a tomato and chocolate muffin – one of Ellie’s mum’s famously bizarre recipes which usually tasted better than they looked.

      ‘Yeah – what’s all that about?’ said Nancy. ‘When neither of us have qualified for the Junior British.’

      ‘Emma must think that you and Ellie will qualify via the Challenge Cup,’ said Tam. ‘Which is definitely not easy, so she must really believe in you! That’s why she promoted you early.’

      Ellie’s stomach did a flip at the mention of the Challenge Cup, the make-or-break competition that took place just before Christmas. It was her last chance to qualify for Junior British Champs next term and become an elite gymnast. ‘It seems like such a long shot.’

      ‘Well, I don’t care why she promoted us,’ Nancy was saying. ‘We’re going to feel so grown up compared to the babies in Development Squad. And we’re going to be training with Oleg!’

      ‘That’s definitely NOT going to be easy!’ said Tam and they all laughed. Oleg Petrescu was the kindly but eccentric gymnastic coach of the Pre-Elite squad. He was Romanian and he was famous for his rather unusual training methods.

      ‘Did you hear he spent the summer in Romania?’ said Tam. ‘He’s come back determined to be much stricter – the way they are over there. So you’d better watch out, girls!’

      ‘Ellie and I can cope with Oleg, can’t we?’ said Nancy with a giant grin. ‘Anyway, I reckon my

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