Page 94 of Full Split
I stand for a few pictures, then they push me past the press area. I don’t understand why, though. I’m perfectly able to sit and answer questions. It’s not like I’m in that much pain or anything. Coach doesn’t listen, though.
Weston runs off to find Wyatt when we find Dr. Zem. She says I probably need an x-ray, just to be sure. She goes to set it up, and then I’m alone.
It’s weird, in the wake of all this chaos, two medals against my chest and more contentment and excitement than I’ve ever felt before, and I’m sitting back watching everyone else run around.
Weston returns with Wyatt in tow. Both their faces are pale as ghosts. I don’t understand why no one wants to hug me or celebrate.
They can’t really be that worried about my foot, can’t they?
“I’m fine,” I say immediately. “It’s nothing. Probably just a twinge.”
“That’s not it,” Weston says.
He and Wyatt share a look that worries me. A shiver of nervousness radiates up my spine. An eerie sense of foreboding that I felt before the competition but chalked it up to nerves.
Weston looks unsure, but hands me his phone.
I read the screen, and my world tilts. Everything inside me revolts.
What… How…?
I can’t speak.
Most of its bullshit.
Except… except for Wyatt. And Jeff, technically. Even those are twisted, but they’re there.
Wyatt crouches down in front of me.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says quietly, but doesn’t touch me.
Weston makes a sound, hands balling into fists. He’s furious.
I look down at the screen again, and for the first time today, I don’t feel like a world champion.
I feel like everything I’ve built is collapsing.
Once Dr. Zem gets it all set up, the x-rays are fast. I have a hairline fracture that will put me out for a few weeks at least. They put me in a boot and tell me to stay off it.
I barely notice anything through the numbness that’s taken over.
Coach Harris and the others herd us into a back office where the national team staff is waiting. They let Weston and Wyatt stay, since part of this pertains to them.
No one talks to us directly. They all just argue back and forth over our heads, throwing around words like media relations, investigation, and damage control.
Finally, Weston snaps.
“Obviously this is bullshit,” he says. Someone gasps. “Begging your finest pardon, but there’s no better way to say it. These are more lies that Peter Trenton is once again perpetrating. Other than going after the actual problem here, why does anything need to be done when we’ve done nothing wrong?”
I flinch. Weston’s lying to protect me. If even one part of the story turns out true… that implicates him, as well. He could lose his medals as well.
Wyatt could lose everything.
And me?
I’d be the monster they want me to be. The villain. The big bad trans enemy. The sex pervert. The liar. The manipulator
I can’t let that happen.
