She tiptoed farther into the room to take a closer look at the collage of photos housed under a glass pane near Nisha’s bed. Most of the photos showed Nisha in action: hitting a backhand shot, a drop shot, serving, raising her hands above her head when she’d won a match. In the center of the collage, Nisha stood in the first-place spot on a podium, a shiny gold medal around her neck. Sutton stood in the third-place spot, scowling. There was a tan-colored brace on her knee.

Tacked along the border were several group shots of the tennis team: the girls holding a team tournament cup, Sutton standing as far away from Nisha as she could. Charlotte had darker hair in the photo, and Laurel’s hair was cut in a sleek blonde bob. Another photo showed the girls standing at an airport gate. Sutton posed off to the side, jutting her leg up on one of the benches and giving the camera a sexy pout. Emma noticed blinking slot machines in the background. Was that Vegas? Had she and Sutton been in the same city at the same time? For a fleeting moment, she pictured the two of them running into each other at the New York-New York casino where she had worked. Would Sutton have noticed her? Would they have smiled at each other?

A final team shot was pinned in the corner of the bulletin board, overlapping other photos as if it had been hastily stuck there. The tennis team gathered around Nisha’s dining table. Sutton and Charlotte were missing, but Laurel smiled broadly, her hair as long as it was today. BACK TO SCHOOL TEAM SLEEPOVER was scrawled at the bottom of the photo. Emma’s finger traced over the date written in Nisha’s calligraphic handwriting: 8/31. She had to stare at it for a few long beats before she believed it was real.

“What are you doing?”

Emma flinched. Nisha stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. She stalked over and pushed Emma’s shoulder. “I didn’t say you could come in here!”

“Wait!” Emma pointed at the photo. “When was this taken?”

Nisha inspected the photo and rolled her eyes. “Can’t you read?” she asked in a smart-ass tone. “It says August thirty-first.”

Nisha placed her palm between Emma’s shoulder blades and shoved her out the door. She slammed it before turning to face Emma. “Attending team activities is what being on a team means. At least for those of us who care about supporting one another.”

“Even Laurel was there,” Emma said slowly, lifting her eyes to meet Nisha’s.

A haughty grin widened on Nisha’s face as she glanced over Emma’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil! We were just talking about you.”