Me and Ryan, friends. There’s something about the idea that’s hazy and hard to picture, but maybe that’s because nothing about my future feels completely solid right now. I’ve finally saved up enough money to move out of my parents’ house, and I’m going to see an apartment this weekend. The idea of moving makes me feel hopeful.

“I’ll see you around,” I promise Ryan.

He claps his hands authoritatively and calls across the gym, “Hallie, how’s that stretching going?”

For the rest of the morning, Ryan and I stay out of each other’s way. I give him space while he works with Hallie on vault. When it’s time for me to take over on floor, he tells Hallie he’s going to head to the office to answer some emails.

“Tumbling, let’s go,” I instruct.

She warms up and practices each of the four passes we’ve chosen for her routine. After a hard landing, she sighs and rolls out her ankle, flexing her foot in different directions.

“Feeling okay?” I call across the floor.

She takes a few experimental steps, head cocked to the side.

“Yeah, yeah. That landing was weird, but I’m good.”

“Did you get a chance to see that doctor?” I ask.

“Dr. Kaminsky?” she asks. “Yeah. He checked me out.”

“What did he say? How are you feeling?”

She sighs. “Nothing major is wrong, but I can tape it up if it’s bothering me.”

“Did he order any texts? X-rays? MRIs?”

“It’s all fine,” she says. “I’m gonna tape up my ankle.”

She retrieves gauzy prewrap and athletic tape from the supply closet and sits on one side of the floor with her foot in front of her, methodically winding the materials around her ankle and heel to stabilize the joint.

I sit and join her. She silently fumes when the tape is too tough to rip cleanly. I help her pull off a long strip.

She bites her lip. “I know he’s a good doctor, but I don’t know… I kind of got a weird vibe from him. And my ankle really feels fine, anyway. So it’s not like I’d need to go back.”

Something about Hallie’s quiet, fidgety demeanor and insistence that everything is normal raises a red flag for me. She reminds me of Jasmine, back when we were kids, the way she’d pretend like Dimitri’s behavior on bad days didn’t bother her. She always cried later, when it was just the two of us. I remember the pressure to stay tightly controlled and focused on training, the way we would push down our feelings until we could barely notice them anymore. I don’t want that for Hallie.

“If something’s not right, you can tell me, you know,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”