The Squeak in the Vault — In the old training hall, Junie lined her toes at the runway tape and waited for Coach Barlow’s whistle. Read the full story →
In the old training hall, Junie lined her toes at the runway tape and waited for Coach Barlow’s whistle. Dust sparkled in the window light, and the vault table smelled faintly of chalk and leather. Junie wanted one clean tuck, knees hugged tight, landing soft enough to hear only the mat sigh.
The whistle stayed quiet. Coach Barlow checked the springboard springs: squeak, squeak, squeak. Junie bounced once in place. Then, from under the board, came a smaller sound: pip-pip-pip. A whiskered nose poked out, followed by a gray mouse wearing a stolen strip of athletic tape like a belt. “You are off beat,” it said.
Junie blinked. The mouse tapped the floor with its tail: pip, pip, pause. The springs answered: squeak, squeak, pause. Junie waited, then ran on the next silent beat. Her hands met the vault, her knees tucked, and for one floating second the whole hall seemed to hold its giggle. When she landed, the mat gave one polite poof. If you spot the springboard, you might guess where Junie’s tiny coach is keeping time.
