[Maddie’s POV]

The hotel lobby smells like stale coffee and regret, which feels appropriate for a Sunday morning after your entire life imploded on national television.

I’m meeting Victoria before the drive back to campus, and the part of my brain that still functions knows this is probably a terrible idea.

The other ninety-five percent is too exhausted to care about self-preservation or common sense.

Victoria sits in one of those lobby chairs that’s trying too hard to look sophisticated but mostly looks uncomfortable.

She stands when she sees me, all professional sympathy and perfectly styled hair. “Maddie,” she says, gesturing to the chair across from her. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

I sit because standing feels like too much effort. My entire body aches from yesterday’s performance, from landing every jump perfectly and watching the judges decide perfection deserved sixth place.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Victoria’s voice has this gentle quality that makes me immediately suspicious.

Adults using gentle voices usually means bad news is incoming. “I’ve been speaking with a program. They have incredible coaching, a competitive environment. It could be a fresh start for you.”

The words fresh start feel like bait on a hook. I bite anyway because I’m apparently a fish with poor survival instincts. “What program?”

“It’s about three hours from here. Spring semester enrollment is still open.” Victoria leans forward slightly, and I can see she’s already planned this conversation down to her posture.

“They have an opening, and I could get you a spot. Your technical skills are exceptional. You just need the right environment to showcase them.”

Three hours away. Far enough that commuting would be impossible, that it would mean leaving Lakeview entirely, leaving the team, leaving Emily. The thought should make my chest tighten, and should make me refuse immediately.

Instead, I just feel numb.

“You really think I should leave?” The question comes out quieter than I intended, and I hate how small my voice sounds.

Victoria’s expression shifts to something that might be genuine concern or might be excellent acting. I’ve lost the ability to tell the difference, like trying to determine if someone’s Instagram post is sponsored content.

“I think sometimes we outgrow places,” she says gently. “Staying somewhere out of obligation isn’t healthy, especially when that environment is working against you.”

The words settle over me like a weighted blanket. Obligation. Is that what I’m doing? Staying at Lakeview because I feel like I owe Coach something, owe Emily something, owe the team something even though they barely tolerated me just a few months ago?

“Think about it,” Victoria says, standing. “You don’t have to decide today. But you deserve better than what you’re getting here.”

She walks away before I can respond, which is probably strategic. Leave me sitting here with the seed planted, let it grow while I drive back to campus thinking about fresh starts and better environments.

The drive back takes two hours that feel like two years. I spend most of it staring out the window at scenery that refuses to be interesting, mentally rehearsing conversations I probably won’t have.

Campus looks exactly the same as when we left, which feels wrong. Shouldn’t everything look different when your entire world is falling apart?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify