Chapter 3

The coach laughed when my dad explained it.

One email from a teenager's hijacked account didn't end anything, she said. Send the clip to compliance, let them see the timestamps, and the spot was mine. The "it's gone forever" line was just something Lila made up to box me in.

So I had my spot back by Tuesday. I told no one. Not Cole, not Wes, not a single person at school. As far as Lila knew, I was finished.

I wanted her to keep thinking that.

She texted me all week from wherever the three of them had gone — beach photos, the boys carrying her bags, Wes feeding her fries off his own tray.

Hope it's not too lonely watching the guys you wanted fall all over me 💅

They told me they'd rather sit on a bench next to me than start anywhere with you. Kind of embarrassing for you tbh.

I didn't answer. Her clock was already running; she just couldn't hear it yet.

The school had set Signing Day for that Friday in the gym. Banners, a stage, a folding table with pens, the local paper sending someone with a camera. Every committed senior would sit down and sign for real in front of the whole town.

The mom group chat lost its mind two days before.

Cole's mom posted first. Big day coming. So proud of my Duke boy 💙

Wes's mom replied in under a minute. Funny, I thought the table was for UNC families. Carolina blue looks better on a winner anyway.

Wes peaked at JV. Everyone knows Cole's the real recruit.

My son had three coaches in our living room. Yours had pamphlets.

They went at it for forty messages. Neither of them had any idea their sons had quietly backed out of both schools weeks ago. I read the whole thing twice and didn't type a word. Watching two people fight over a prize that no longer existed was its own kind of entertainment.

Friday came. The gym was packed — wall to wall, standing room along the baseline, because half the town had seen the group chat and wanted to know whose kid was the real thing.

Lila found me before it started, the boys flanking her like always.

"Last chance, Margot." She kept her voice low and kind, for the people nearby. "Apologize to me, in front of everyone, and tell your parents the foundation keeps paying my way — a little more than before, since I'll have expenses now. Do that and we go back to how things were."

"The foundation's done with you," I said. "You won't see another cent."

Her eyes went glassy on command. Cole leaned in. "You're really going to humiliate her in public? After she gave us a way to stay together?"

"Worry about yourselves," I said. "You're going to need it."

The athletic director tapped the mic and called the first name. Mine.

I walked up, sat down at the table, and signed with the program every kid in that gym would have killed for. People clapped. The photographer crouched at the edge of the stage. The AD shook my hand and said the booster club had something special for me after.

Both moms shot up out of their seats.

"That's lovely, but let's keep things moving," Cole's mom called out, beaming. "Some of us have signings of our own."

Wes's mom was already smoothing her son's collar from across the aisle.

The AD checked his list and smiled. He waved toward the boys.

"Cole. Wes. Come on up — let's make it official."