“What the—” Our coach raced across the room while Courtney and I emerged from behind the lockers.
The two other girls had come out of their showers, dripping wet and clutching their towels. They gaped in horror at Emma, writhing in torment between their feet.
Gigi and Beth were crouched around Emma on the floor. In the eleven years I’d known Emma, I’d never seen her cry—until now. Her face was beet red, twisted in pain. Tears streamed down both of her cheeks. She cried out, forcing her eyes shut as she reached for her ankle.
That’s when I saw it. I gasped while Coach Kelly got to her knees, inserting herself between Gigi and Emma.
“Don’t touch it!” Emma screamed.
The side of Emma’s ankle jutted out at a horrifyingly unnatural angle, and her foot lay limp on its side.
“There’s soap on the floor,” Gigi exclaimed, lifting her hand off the concrete.
Beside me, Courtney drew in a sharp breath.
Coach Kelly’s head whipped in our direction. “You were the only other two in here. Did you do this?”
“No.” Courtney shook her head. “But we saw who did. Two guys. They had hoodies on, so it was hard to see their faces. But they were tall, like Bryson and Jake. I’m almost positive it was them.” Courtney gestured to me. “We heard them snickering before they ran out the fire door. I thought they were just being pervs.”
Emma gritted her teeth. The color had drained from her face, which was now nearly as white as her towel. “I didn’t hear anyone.”
Coach Kelly frowned. Her eyes shifted to mine. “Is that true, Palmer?”
Emma’s tear-filled eyes locked with mine. I looked away, afraid she would read the guilt on my face. I knew I should tell the truth, but I sensed Courtney’s ice-cold stare in my periphery.
I swallowed, hating myself. “Yeah, I saw them too.”
“Come on in, girls.” Emma’s mom swung the door wide to Emma’s private hospital room in Port Angeles when Beth and I arrived. “Thanks for coming,” she said, leading the way to Emma’s bed by the window. “You know, Gigi’s mom was the one who treated Emma in the ER. She was wonderful,” she said over her shoulder. “Sweetheart, your friends are here.”
Emma opened her eyes, looking groggy. She wore a blue-and-white hospital gown, and her right ankle was elevated, concealed in a protective splint.
“She just got out of surgery,” her mom told us. “So she’s a little drowsy.”
Beth went to Emma’s side. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Emma said.
“Emma Grace ...” Her mom frowned. “Watch your language.”
Emma’s gaze traveled to her ankle. “I’ll be out for the rest of the season. So much for playing in our division championship this weekend.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed when she spotted me standing behind Beth. I swallowed.
“Hey, Emma.” I felt horrible, knowing Emma was hoping to get scouted by the Elliott Bay University coach who was rumored to be coming to the division tournament.
Emma was hands down the best player on our team. While the rest of us had aspirations of other careers, Emma’s dream was to play in the Pro Volleyball Federation after college. Playing for Elliott Bay University would help her chances a lot.
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but her mom’s phone rang. She dug through her purse as the ringing grew louder, then checked the caller ID on the flip phone.
“It’s my boss. I’ll be right back.” She exhaled, lifting the phone to her ear as she left the room. “Hi, Dr. Campbell,” she said as she stepped into the hall.
“Where’s Courtney?” Emma asked.
Hearing her name made me feel sick to my stomach.
“And Gigi?”
Beth bit her lip, looking at me to answer.
