because they fear what is to come.
“Your family is ĕne.” Her tone doesn’t reassure me. “Edith. is
isn’t my choice. But I must be the one to tell you that your place on
the Olympic training team will go to someone else.”
I think I might vomit. I feel foreign in my own skin. “What did I
do?” I comb over the rigorous months of training for the thing I’ve
done wrong. “I don’t understand.”
“My child,” she says, and now she looks me full in the face, which
is worse, because I can see that she is crying, and at this moment when
my dreams are being shredded like newspaper at the butcher shop I
do not want to feel pity for her. “e simple truth is that because of
your background, you are no longer qualified.”
I think of the kids who’ve spit at me and called me dirty Jew, of
Jewish friends who have stopped going to school to avoid harassment
and now get their courses over the radio. “If someone spits at you, spit
back,” my father has instructed me. “at’s what you do.” I consider
spitting on my coach. But to ĕght back would be to accept her
devastating news. I won’t accept it.
“I’m not Jewish,” I say.
“I’m sorry, Editke,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I still want you at the
studio. I would like to ask you to train the girl who will replace you on
the team.” Again, her ĕngers on my back. In another year, my back
will be broken in exactly the spot she now caresses. Within weeks, my
very life will be on the line. But here in the hallway of my cherished
studio, my life feels like it is already over.
* * *In the days that follow my expulsion from the Olympic training team, I
plot my revenge. It won’t be the revenge of hate; it will be the revenge
of perfection. I will show my coach that I am the best. e most
accomplished athlete. e best trainer. I will train my replacement so