Sierra is still muttering to herself. “Audrey Lee, she’s going to the ’lympics!”
“Shh!” Jaime says as I struggle to get her up the stairs, Sierra hopefully following behind. “Don’t wanna get caught.”
“Why not?” Sierra shoots back, her voice rising with every word. “What’re they gonna do? Kick us off the team? Not even on the team.”
The light is on upstairs, but there aren’t any sounds from the other rooms. Sierra and Jaime are at the end of the hallway. I haven’t been in their room yet, but it looks a whole lot like mine and Emma’s—white fluffy bedding and a nautical theme, except sea-foam green paint adorns the walls.
I carefully unwind Jaime’s arm from around my shoulder and sit her down on the bed.
Sierra stumbles into the room. “See, Jaime, Audrey’s perfect— that’s why they picked her instead of me. She hates us, and she helped us anyway.”
I want to correct her, tell her I don’t hate them, but right now that’s not exactly true.
Jaime just giggles again, flopping back on the mattress as I unlace her sneakers for her.
“It’s not funny, bitch,” Sierra bites out but curls up into her bed. “Should have just said something last year. None of this would have happened.”
“Last year?” I ask, moving to undo the straps of Sierra’s sandals.
“Yeah, when we saw Gibby and that slut at worlds,” Sierra says, her words still slurring but coming through crystal clear.
“Gibby and Dani?” I ask sharply, my voice rising, but I bring it back down to a whisper. “You saw Gibby and Dani last year at worlds?”
“Yep, in the trainers’ room, down on her knees making sure he wouldn’t tell about her doping. I know it.”
The last part’s BS. Dani wasn’t doping; the USOF and FBI already proved that. That’s how Gibby got arrested in the first place—forging the results—but my brain is trying to catch up with what Sierra just revealed.
“You saw Dani and Gibby together at worlds last year, and you didn’t say anything? You didn’t tell the FBI?”
Sierra rolls her eyes and then groans. I imagine it made the world spin. “What do you care? Fuck you, Audrey Lee,” she croaks out, not making any sense, and I want to shake her, wake her up, dump black coffee down her throat until she sobers up and tells me everything she knows, but instead I watch her fall back onto the pillow.
Jaime is softly snoring behind me, but I stare hard at Sierra. Her mouth is open, but her breathing is starting to come slow and easy. She’s falling asleep.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
I don’t sleep. Back in my room, I drift in and out of consciousness, butsleepis not the word I’d use to describe it. All I keep thinking about is Gibby and Dani and how there are two eyewitnesses to the abuse he put her through. I’m going to tell the FBI and Mrs. Jackson and Janet. First thing in the morning, I’m going to tell them what Sierra told me last night, and they’re going to make it right. They have to.
Bam!
My eyes fly open at the noise, and I sit up in bed. My heart is ricocheting against my ribs as the room comes into focus. Sunlight trickles through the window. It’s morning.
The door slammed. That was the noise.
Glancing over, Emma’s bed is empty except for a pile of covers, and Sierra is at the foot of my bed, eyes bloodshot, skin pallid and tinged with green, but clearly sober.
“How much did I tell you?” she asks, her arms folded over her stomach like she’s holding back her vomit.
My eyes narrow at her. “Everything.”
She considers me for a long moment, her breathing slow and even. “Then I’ll tell them everything,” she says finally.
A wave of relief washes through me. She’s going to do the right thing.
“On one condition.”
Or maybe not.
“God forbid you just do the right thing.”
