Denise turned the laptop up toward her. You should see this. I've seen it, not the fight. Denise moved to the footage after the injury. You Maya reluctantly watched on the screen.
Her younger self stood at the edge of the mat, ignoring applause, waiting for news about Tessa. The image was almost unbearable because she had remembered only the injury. She had forgotten the rest. The waiting, the concern, the fact that even in the worst moment of her competitive life, she had not become careless. Maya looked away.
Denise did not push. After a moment, Maya said, "Someone threatened me last night." Denise's expression sharpened. Maya showed her the screenshot. Denise read it once, then again.
Did you report it? I'm going to. You're doing it now. Maya looked at her. This is no longer schoolyard cruelty.
I know. No, Denise said. I don't think you do. She stood. Your scholarship is under review.
Someone edited evidence now. Somebody is contacting you anonymously and telling you to withdraw a complaint. Denise picked up her coat. We document everything. Across campus, Evan Bradford was sitting in the student center when Lauren dropped into the chair beside him.
Kyle was across the table scrolling through his phone. Lauren looked irritated. Professor Walker's asking questions. Evan glanced up. What questions about Maya?
Kyle stopped scrolling. What about her? Lauren lowered her voice. She found something. Evan's face changed.
What? Lauren showed him an archived competition page someone had already begun circulating privately. Maya Carter, for one, adult national champion. Evans stared at it for once. He did not laugh.
Kyle leaned closer. "That's her." Lauren nodded. Evan scrolled through the results. A photo appeared.
Maya in a black belt, metal around her neck, Daniel beside her. Evan looked toward the entrance of the student center. As if Maya might walk in at any moment, the person he had shoved socially for weeks had been capable of putting him on the floor the entire time, and she had never tried. That realization did not humble him. It frightened him, which for Evan Bradford quickly became anger.
He stood. Where's my dad? Lauren looked at him. Why? Evan was already dialing.
Because walkers digging. He walked toward the glass doors. Outside the Bradford Performance Center gleamed across the quad, his family name stretched across the stone in polished metal. Grant answered on the third ring. Evan?
Evan lowered his voice. We've got a problem. What kind? The girl. A pause.
Evan looked back at the image on Lauren's phone. 23 wins, zero losses. She's not who we thought she was. Grant said nothing. Evan's jaw tightened and Professor Walker knows.