A private message appeared from Noah. Heard what happened. I have witness accounts that don't match the official story. Would you be willing to talk? No recording.
No quotes without permission. Danielle stared at the message for a long moment before typing back one-handed. Tomorrow. Library. 10:00 A.
M. She set down her phone and struggled to get comfortable on her bed. Sleep seemed impossible with pain pulsing through her body. Just as she found a bearable position, her phone buzzed again. This time, the message was from Sierra.
Coach wants full squad meeting tomorrow. Mandatory. 9:00 A. M. The timing wasn't accidental.
They were making sure she couldn't meet Noah. Exhausted and aching, Danielle finally drifted into uneasy sleep around midnight. She woke just after 2:00 a. M. To use the bathroom.
When she returned, something caught her eye. A paper had been slipped under her door. She picked it up, turned it over, and felt her stomach drop. In block letters, it read, "You should have stayed on the ground." When she tried her doorknob, her fingers slid off. Someone had smeared it with petroleum jelly.
Danielle stood in the dark, her heart pounding. Then, with deliberate calm, she found her phone and took a picture of the note. She photographed the doorknob. She pulled out Nurse Patel's hand-written assessment and photographed it next to the official report. Finally, she awkwardly positioned her phone to capture the bruising pattern on her shoulder and back.
"Evidence," she whispered to herself. "Everything from now on is evidence." The dawn broke with pale light through Danielle's window. She hadn't slept more than three fitful hours. Her shoulder throbbed beneath the sling, each pulse a reminder of yesterday's orchestrated accident. Campus cafe chairs scraped against tile floors as early risers grabbed coffee before class.
Danielle chose a corner table, keeping her back to the wall, and her evidence folder hidden under the table. The place was nearly empty, exactly what she needed. Noah Bennett arrived 5 minutes early, his laptop tucked under one arm, and dark circles beneath his eyes suggesting he'd been up most of the night. He nodded at her sling. "How bad is it?" he asked, sliding into the seat across from her.
"Bad enough to hurt." "Not bad enough to stop me," Danielle replied. Noah opened his laptop. "I've been tracking posts since yesterday's game. Look at this." He turned the screen to show her a collection of screenshots, arranged by timestamp. "These were posted before halftime even started, he said, pointing to messages from anonymous accounts.