That buzz that Marianne had felt throughout her limbs while giving the team a pep talk didn’t dissipate. In fact, it seemed contagious. Vi was—for the first time in Vi history, Marianne assumed—all smiles. She and Dan even joked around together.

“Addison is going to be so excited,” she said. “I have to tell her. Let’s check our phones.”

All the players’ phones had been confiscated and handed over to each team coach before the competition began.

They rushed to Mr. Garcia, and Vi grabbed the large pouch out of his backpack.

As Marianne took her purple-glitter phone from Vi and opened the screen, she understood her mistake right as she made it.

Notifications. Her phone held each and every notification of comments from kids, a group chat that had been formed of kids watching the livestream, texts from other classmates, all of it lighting up her screen in box after box.

As she read comment after comment, joke after joke, she saw something that she could hardly believe: Julie had written, omg this is going to be HILARIOUS …

And Skyla had liked the comment.

She’d liked it. Skyla_Ray22 had pressed the “heart” button.

Was it an accident? Had she hit it by mistake?

Why would she do that?

Marianne just figured that she and Skyla would get back to normal. Once the school year ended, and Skyla didn’t see those classmates every day, and they headed into high school as a duo, they’d be on the same wavelength again. But maybe not. Maybe Skyla wished she didn’t even live next door to her. Maybe Marianne was a total embarrassment.

Someone ripped the phone from Marianne’s hands, and Marianne was left staring into her palms, her heartbeat on overdrive.

Vi stood before her, her face stern. She tossed Marianne’s phone back in her bag.

“No,” Vi said. “Stop it. Whatever they’re saying? It doesn’t matter.”

“Skyla,” Marianne whispered to Vi. “She—”

“You seem to learn a lot just by scoping people out. Go investigate Remington for us?” Vi asked.

“Okay.” Marianne took a breath. “Okay,” she repeated. “I’m going to take a walk. Be right back.” She turned on her heels.

She had to keep herself busy, she had to try to add something to the team. “Research,” she whispered to herself.

And she stalked the halls for Remington.

A few people gave her a “congrats” here and there, and it hit her as strange after the onslaught of mockery on her phone. Then, by the doors of the auditorium, she thought she saw them.

It was a group of six. They were dressed professionally, like children in grown-up dress-up clothes. They spoke to one another quietly but forcefully, in what might have been a fight.

Then their coach arrived, and they went silent, some of them standing up straighter, arms to their sides, like she was their sergeant.

Their coach wore her hair back in a high twisted braid and shook her head at all of them as if she were disappointed.