He saw all the hands coming up to hide whispers. Everyone knew by now that Baat had a problem with alcohol and that Sara had stayed quiet about it. He wanted to protect her, to explain her side of things, but the only real explanation was that she’d messed up. He’d punished her because he had to, because he couldn’t move past the choice she’d made without venting his fear and frustration, his anger that she hadn’t confided in him. Since then, he’d tried to buoy up her spirits, but she had a long way to go to regain everyone’s trust. As she walked toward him, she received more than a few judgmental looks. He asked the gymnast team to break for a moment and jogged over to meet her by the wall. “Sara, I’m busy. Things are crazy here.” She looked pale, wrung out. Her eyes were rimmed in red. “What happened?” he asked. “What did Lemaitre say?” “He didn’t say anything bad.” She paused and rubbed her forehead. “He just said...” “What?” he prompted when she hesitated.
