The rumor mill didn’t die down after the retreat, it got worse. Someone anonymous posted side-by-side photos, me laughing with Leo at a team barbecue last semester, then me in Jax’s hoodie at the game. The caption read, “Maddie Smith playing both sides or just using the coach to cover her tracks?” The comments were vicious, people tagging the dean, the athletic director, even local news accounts. I woke up to my phone on fire again. Jax called me at seven in the morning, voice rough like he hadn’t slept either. “You saw it,” he said, no hello. “Yeah,” I whispered, sitting on my bed, knees pulled to my chest. “They’re saying I’m a liar, a user, that you’re getting played.” He exhaled hard. “They’re wrong, you know that, right?” “I know, but it doesn’t matter what I know. It matters what everyone else thinks.” Silence stretched, then he said, “Administration wants us at the game tonight, halftime field presentation. They want us to prove it’s real in front of everyone.” My stoma
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