January 1989

"Ladies, listen up!" The coach said as me and the gymnastics team of Bayside High School were turning our backpacks in for leotards. "State finals are coming up. We are going to whip your little butts into shape and you're gonna give me first place. Anything less? Don't bother coming back. That goes for you too." She pointed at me.

"Will do, coach," I said as I tightened a support brace around my wrist.

"Anyone who wasn't made aware, Michelle— was transferred in this week," Coach Lily announced to all the other girls. "She's won state three times in her high school career, so give her a big welcome."

"I am happy to be here," I said to everyone, "I do want you guys to know that I only focus on my routine for floor now."

Fuller decided to put me on this case about the gymnastics coach mentally abusing her gymnasts because I am the only one on the team with tumbling experience. It was the first time since Christmas where I had to take off the necklace that Tom gave me.

I used to play around at a gymnasium back when I was a kid, but no one could ever make me swing around on the uneven bars or flip on the terrifying balance beam. However, floor was where I was a professional because of my limited time as a cheerleader.

"What's your pass?" One of the gymnastics asked me. "I'm Cassandra, by the way."

"My pass?" I asked.

"You know, your tumbling pass," she answered like it was a dumb question.

"Oh," I chuckled and tried to think of an answer quick on my feet. "My routine has a front and a back pass."

"Yeah... what are they?"

I scrambled in my head what my passes would be. I remembered a random cheerleading routine I was forced to memorize when I was in high school and decided to play off that. "My front is a... front handspring front pike and my back is a round off flick-flack layout full, with a toe touch."

"What's a flick flack?" Bessie, one of the other gymnasts asked.

"What's a toe touch?" Another, Carol, asked.

"Sorry, back hand spring and straddle jump," I corrected. I forgot that cheerleading and gymnastics have different terms for the same exact thing. It's dumb.

Carol laughed, "I'll believe that when I see it."

Me, being petty, squinted at her as she walked away. Did she not think I could do it? I'm too stubborn so I immediately planned to prove her wrong.

Coach Lily started clapping her hands to get our attention. "Ladies! Move! Don't make me ask again!"

I walked alongside Bessie as we walked to the corner of the floor and asked, "what's up her ass?"

Bessie giggled but said under her breath, "don't swear around her, she hates it. We are just under a lot of stress is all."

Coach Lily was yelling at us with every tumbling pass we made. She never gave any positive comments as we went through our warm ups. Right off the bat I could sense tension among the team that stemmed from the drastically high expectations of the coach.

Finally, it was time to pay the piper. I did my proper back tumbling pass, but I accidentally over turned and did not land straight. My one twist turned into one and a half. My eyes widened when I was not facing the way I should have, and I hoped that no one saw that.

"Wow, you oughta be in the Olympics!" Bessie said, mesmerized.

Carol rolled her eyes and said, "oh please. Her feet weren't pointed."

Bessie stood up for me. "You say that but you can't even do a back layout!"

Coach Lily called me over and said once I got off the floor, "that was a decent pass. But, your toes weren't pointed. Here, when we don't do a correction, we do exercises. Give me 25 push-ups."

I raised my eyebrows. "25 push-ups?!"

"Make it 50." She glared at me.

"50?"

"That's what I said." Lily raised her eyebrows back at me. "Want to make it 75?"

I slowly got down to my knees and I assumed the push-up position. I should have just kept my mouth shut.

Coach Lily put her foot under my chin and I asked her what she was doing. I leaned to one hand and looked up at her, and she looked down at me with crossed arms and flared nostrils.

"Touch your chin to my toes. If I don't feel your chin, it doesn't count. If you stop at all, you start over. If you rest your knees, you start over. Got it?"

"Got it," I responded and started doing the push-ups.

"Keep going!" Lily yelled at the girls.

I finally finished my push-ups and sat back on my heels. I used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat that was gathering at my eyebrows and Lily asked me if I have ever done a double twist in my tumbling before. When I answered no, she said, "well, today is the day," and ordered me to get back in line.

When it was my turn, I did my tumbling pass and Coach Lily called out, "yes! Finally! It's about time."

"About time?" I whispered under my breath. "It was my first try."

I had not done any tumbling or extreme exercise like this in almost four years, and my knees were already shaking and my joints were aching. My arms were tired after all those push-ups. I was already visualizing taking an ice bath when I get home.

"Don't sweat it," Bessie said to me softly. "She's hard on all of us."

"A little more than hard," I said.

"I guess."

"Does she do anything else?" I asked while using my thumb to rub at my sore shoulder. I was trying to get Bessie to confess that her and her teammates getting abused but it wasn't going to be easy.

"You'll see."

"I'd rather you tell me."

Bessie's eyes grew wide and she looked down and cracked her knuckles instead. Then I saw her eyebrows furrow and she pointed to my leg. She asked, "is that a scar?"

I looked down and you could easily see my scar from the bullet wound in my thigh. I couldn't tell her that I got shot, because that could snowball into her figuring out that I'm undercover as a cop. I was quick on my feet and said, "I fell off monkey bars when I was a kid. It's a scar from a compound fracture."

"Holy shit," she whispered. "Gnarly."

A few more girls took their turn before Lily started yelling, "no! No! No!"

"Uh-oh, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Just wait," Bessie gulped. "They were talking when we aren't supposed to."

Lily came over and yelled at two girls who were talking amongst themselves. She yelled, "girls! Hollow! Now!"

The two girls slowly got down to the floor and held a hollow position. This exercise focused on their abdominal muscles, and I immediately stood up straight and stopped talking to Bessie. Lily yelled at them to keep their arms by their ears and threatened them if they came down.

Lily took a breath, "Carol— go!"

Carol ran out onto the floor and did her tumbling pass. Then, Lily called us all off the floor and started making everyone perform their floor routines one at a time. Everyone besides me, since I did not have one yet. While the girls were watching their teammates, they were instructed to think of two positive comments to note from their routine, and one constructive criticism for them to work on.

Coach Lily called me over to the edge of the floor and started asking me what days I was free. She wanted me to stay back an extra hour every day that week to work on making a floor routine to use for the state championship. I tried to talk her into letting me use the one I supposedly already had, but she wanted me to memorize a fresh one.

After we set a schedule that was incredibly hectic and required me to be in the gym for 25 hours that week, I nodded at the girls who were still holding a hollow position and asked, "how are those girls doing?"

Coach Lily looked over at them and a wave of horror rushed over her face. The girls were sobbing silently in their position, shaking violently as their muscles were spazzing. Lily kept her chin up and told them to hold it a little while longer.

"They've been holding it for over an hour." I looked at the clock. "They should come down."

"Do you want to join them?" Coach Lily asked. I shook my head no and Lily barked, "then do not tell me what to do."

Lily called out for another girl to start her routine and finally let the girls come down from their hollow. She had obviously forgot about them, and played it off like it was not her fault. She told them to go upstairs and get some water and to not come down until they were done crying.

"Babies," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" I asked, the big-sister in me was coming out.

"What?" She looked at me with cold eyes. "Nothing."

Her coaching ways are very intense, more intense than I was picturing this sport to be. I needed a break to recollect my thoughts about my time today, but I still had another hour of practice. I started rubbing at my shoulder and Lily frowned at me.

"What's this you're doing?" She asked, her eyes grazed down to my shoulder.

"My shoulder has been bugging me for a while," I lied.

"Probably just needs a rub down," Lily said, "go to Alex after practice. He is our athletic trainer."

"Okay," I said. I gave up the act and went back to practice.

After practice, the sky had already grown dark and parents were picking up their daughters who could not drive yet. Lily locked up the gym and walked me over to the athletic trainer and asked how my first day was.

I was wearing grey sweats and a sweatshirt over my black leotard to cover up and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I was out of breath, my muscles were aching, and my hair was in a very messy ponytail. I took a much needed sip from my water bottle and said, "definitely more work than my old school."

"Then I have high expectations from you," she said, "as you can see— my girls have no discipline."

"Well, I think they're trying."

"Not hard enough."

"They're just kids."

"They are gymnasts."

I almost snapped back, but I remembered that I was undercover and I needed to be on her good side. I agreed with her, and she definitely liked that. I guess those girls are machines, which was honestly a great descriptive word.

She knocked on a thick blue door in the school and a man opened the door. He was wearing a black athletic track suit with sneakers, and Lily introduced us.

"Alex, this is Michelle and she's a transfer. Her shoulder's been hurting her, can you give her some exercises? She's the best on the team and I need her in tip-top shape before tomorrow's morning practice."

"Morning practice?" I turned to Lily. No one said anything about morning practices.

"Yeah, before school. 5:45am-7:45am, don't be late," she said before she left us alone.

"Come on in, Michelle," Alex said and he led me to a giant room full of medical equipment. It smelled like cleaning supplies and socks. He told me to sit on the bed that looked like a bed that you would see at a doctors office, and he put hand sanitizer on his hands. "So, your shoulder has been bugging you, huh?"

"Yeah, a little." I tried to play it off. I hoped this wouldn't take long so I could go home.

"Let me see what we are working with here," he said in a soft tone. He walked up behind me and put his cold hands on my shoulders which made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He asked which one, and I shrugged my left one. He started rubbing his thumbs deep into my muscle in circles, which made me wince. I was definitely sore, but I just wanted to go home.

"Where'd you transfer from?" He asked me, trying to make conversation.

"Up in New Hampshire," I said, "the old man got a job over here so we had to move."

"Tough break," he said. He paused and suggested that I take my sweatshirt off.

I froze, not really wanting to because I was only in a leotard but I trusted him, since he is the gymnasts athletic trainer. I pulled my sweatshirt off and he got back to work.

He asked me more questions, trying to personally get to know me. After a bit I noticed that his deep tissue massage to help my shoulder muscles had turned much lighter, and not seeming to focus on my physical health. My heart was beating rapidly as his hands drifted down my back and he started massaging my lower back.

After telling him that my lower back was fine, he said, "your back feels very tight. Here, lay down."

Every instinct I had told me to leave that room, but my sixth-sense told me to stay and investigate. I agreed and laid down on my back and he kept massaging.

"How was your first practice?" He asked me.

I was still on high alert when I answered him, "good. Sore though."

"Sore? Where?"

Without thinking, I answered, "mostly my wrists and my knees."

"Roll over," he instructed. I rolled over and he began massaging my knees. I held my breath at the pain, but I eventually relaxed. I came to the conclusion that he was just doing his job, and I closed my eyes as he was working out the painful knots in my muscles.

I eventually realized that his hands started creeping up to leg. Once he got to the middle of my thigh, I opened my eyes and immediately sat up. I grabbed my sweatshirt and started to put it on when I asked, "are there any exercises you recommend I do when I'm home?"

He seemed caught off guard but told me about little exercises I could do to strengthen my shoulder and some stretches I could do to help the tension in my back. I quickly thanked him and left as fast as I could.

I called Fuller from a payphone by the parking lot and told him about the surprise team practice early in the morning. I tried to get out of our daily meeting to check into Jump Street, but Fuller told me to get there early.

In the morning, I was one of the first to get to Jump Street, with my school clothes shoved in my back pack. I was wearing another leotard with black sweatpants over it and a zip-up sweatshirt. I went into the bathroom to put my hair up in a tight ponytail, and my arms were so tight and sore that I could barely lift them.

Everyone else started filtering in, looking tired and miserable. Everyone gave me the stink eye, and I knew it was because Fuller called everyone to come in at 5 o'clock in the morning just for me. My only saving grace was the daily iced chai I've gotten from Booker ever since he insulted me after a sting.

We all gathered at the table and Doug decided to announce what was on the front page of every newspaper this morning.

"Hey, Ted Bundy fried yesterday," Doug announced.

"Finally," I said with a sigh of relief.

"He was executed?" Tom asked.

"Yup." Doug tossed him the newspaper. Tom caught it and scanned the front page while I leaned over to read it too. It even included a photograph of his head just after the execution, with his hair buzzed and staples all over his bare scalp. I made a face and settled back into my chair.

Ted Bundy's trial was a decade ago, where he confessed to killing young women and girls in Seattle, Olympia, Ellensburg, Granger, Aspen, and Tallahassee. His crimes spanned through Evergreen State, Washington, Oregon, Colorado, Utah, and Florida. He was wanted by the FBI and somehow escaped police custody twice.

Doug added, "he was fried in the chair."

"I've never felt good about executions," Tom stated. "What if he didn't do it?"

"He did it," I stated flatly.

"I'm relieved that he's gone. He would have definitely escaped again, and killed more women. He was real close to here at one point," Judy said.

"Mick would have been in big trouble if he came around these parts," Booker pointed with a slight chuckle.

I furrowed my eyebrows together. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You just fit his victimology," Booker explained.

"Yeah, you'd be dead," Ioki added.

"You guys don't think I'd be able to stop him?" I asked.

"From killing you?" Doug thought for a moment then shrugged. "Can I be frank?"

"Go for it," I said.

"No."

"Thanks."

"I'm just being honest. I love you but my money would be on Teddy."

"I appreciate the support," I said sarcastically.

"I've heard a lot of girls would write him love letters and stuff like that because they thought he was dreamy," Booker said, changing the subject. "I'm just curious what you guys thought about him."

"That's not a very appropriate question," Judy said.

"What? It's just a question," Booker defended. It definitely was something that he would be curious about.

"He murdered dozens of girls," Judy argued.

"I'm not talking about who he is on the inside, I'm talking about who he is on the outside," Booker stated.

"I'm not playing this game," Judy said snootily.

"Bundy was never that fucking smart," I stated. "I'm glad he's dead. He was a monster who deserved to die."

"How did he get away with it for so long, huh?" Doug asked, trying to stump me.

"He was just sort of charismatic, and white," I answered. "I mean, he is not special for playing and winning a deadly game with someone he knew wasn't playing."

"Fair," Doug concluded.

"I've never understood the fascination," I said. "He's creepy looking and ugly. I watched the trial when I was a teenager and he was really weird. The glamorization of serial killers is insane. It's so romanticized, it's nauseating."

"Yeah, he's not my type," Tom joked.

"Yeah? What is your type Hanson?" Judy asked, chiming in on the joke.

"Someone who doesn't kill others for enjoyment," Tom said.

"So, not Jackie?" Doug snickered. "She is where fun goes to die."

"Ha-ha, laugh it up," Tom snapped in annoyance.

"She's a b-i-t-c-h," Doug spelled out in a loud whisper.

"I know how to spell bitch," Tom hissed.

I spoke up and said, "I love that the bar for you is on the floor."

"I'm not hard to please," Tom chuckled a little.

I smiled back at him, and Fuller came out of his office and started with me to give our reports.

"How's it going over at Bayside?" Fuller asked me and downed an entire mug of coffee.

I made eye contact with Tom as he looked up at me, I did not realize that I was still looking in his direction until we made eye contact. I felt my cheeks grow hot and I looked down at my paper. "I am definitely noticing tension between the gymnasts and the coach," I reported, "she is very tough on the girls."

"She has to be if she wants them to be good," Doug said.

"I know, but it's excessive. I can understand why visitors aren't necessarily allowed... It's hard to tell after one practice though," I said, "and another thing... the athletic trainer."

"What about him?" Fuller asked.

"He— I might just be reading too much into this but he gives me a bad feeling."

Fuller looked up at me, knowing exactly what I meant and asked, "are you sure?"

"I'm not sure sure, but I think I will start giving him some more attention," I said.

"Good idea," Fuller said, "I need you to find out if there's any abuse coming from the athletic trainer."

"Is that really a good idea, Fuller?" Tom asked.

"She's an adult, Hanson," Fuller said, "she will be fine."

"I am a trained police officer, Hanson," I said teasingly as I stood up from my chair. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah. And maybe we can watch her practice," Booker spoke up.

"Not gonna happen," I told him.

"Anything else?" Fuller asked me.

"No, sir." I shook my head.

"Okay, you are free to go. Have a good practice."

"Oh, I will," I said sarcastically as I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

I heard Fuller ask, "Hanson, give me a status report," as I was leaving. I walked down the steps of the chapel and ran to my car, and hopped inside.

I turned my key in the ignition and the car chugged before dying. I tried again, and it died. I desperately attempted one more time, but it died. I smacked the wheel in frustration, and bit my lip as I tried to think of what I should do. I finally grabbed my backpack and headed back up to the chapel.

I opened the door and the group had moved onto Ioki to talk about his findings at the school he was assigned to, and Fuller looked up at me which made everyone turn to me.

"Need something, Gregg?" He asked.

"Yeah, a ride. My car won't start."

"I can give you a lift. Bayside High, right?" Tom asked as he stood up and grabbed his jacket.

"That's right," I said to him when he reached me.

He turned to Fuller and asked if it was all right.

"Yeah," Fuller agreed.

"Are you just being this nice and driving her to get out of being here at five in the morning?" Doug asked.

"Absolutely. Ciao, babe." Tom winked and made a kissing noise at Doug before he slipped through the door.

Judy yawned. "Not fair."

"I can take a look at your wheels," Doug offered while lifting his hand up in the air.

I grabbed my keys from my pocket and tossed them underhand to him, and he caught them. I thanked him, and I headed out the door. Tom was waiting for me by the bottom of the stairs, and when I got down we walked together to his Mustang. He walked with his hands in his pockets, something I somehow love that he does.

Tom drove me to the school and I told him where to drop me off at.

"How is the assignment really going?" He asked. Sometimes we lie to Fuller about the difficulty of an assignment, especially when it's as physically or mentally demanding as this one.

"Let's just say, if I do not have a solid six-pack of abdominal muscles by the end of this assignment, I'll be very disappointed," I joked. My stomach was too sore to laugh.

"Okay," he chuckled. "I'll pick you up?"

"That would be great," I said as I stepped out of the car and grabbed my bag, "I end at 6 o'clock."

"Isn't school out at 2:45?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said, "I have to stay back an extra hour after practice."

"Man. Twelve hour school day?" He asked, "that's tough."

I nodded, even though it was a little longer than that. And five hours of it being strenuous physical activity made me want to go crazy. "Good thing this is temporary. I'll see you tonight."

"Bye," he said. I shut his car door and walked to the gym. I hit the door with my hip and turned back to Tom. I waved at him and he waved back, and drove off after I disappeared into the gym.

"Hustle, ladies, hustle," Coach Lily yelled as we were all taking off our clothes in the locker room.

"What are you going to do while we are at vault, or beam, or bars?" Bessie asked as she grabbed her grips.

"I'm staying on floor," I said.

"Four hours of just floor? My joints hurt for you," she chuckled and we walked out onto the floor.

Five. Five hours.

Coach Lily instructed everyone to put the bags that held their grips in a pile and commanded us to start our warm up. It consisted of twenty running laps around the gym, five while doing only tuck jumps, another five of jumping squats, and another five of sprinting as fast as we could. After a quick stretch, she told everyone to put their grips on.

I came up to her to ask what she wanted me to do and she looked at me like I had five heads. "I want you to get on bars."

"I don't have grips. I'm only competing floor," I reminded her.

"I'm aware," she said, "but you have to warm-up with everyone else. You're not special, so you don't get to skip out on it."

Once everyone was at the bars, there were three sets of a low bar and a high bar. Two girls on each bar. The gymnasts that were hanging on the low bar, had to keep their knees up to their chest. I was hanging from a high bar, my shoulders up to my ears and my hands were already burning against the friction of the wooden bar.

"You all know the rules," Coach Lily said to us, "ten pull ups with your fingers facing you. Ten pull ups with your fingers away from you. Ten pull ups with alternating hands, and another ten. After that, ten pull-overs. Then, 10 skin-the-cats. If any one of you touch the floor, you will all start over. Got it? Go."

My jaw almost dropped to the ground. These girls really are machines.

"Up!" Coach Lily shouted. Immediately, everyone pulled their chin up to the bar and froze. Lily yelled at me, "we are waiting for you, Michelle!"

I frantically brought my chin up to the bar and Coach Lily waited a second before she yelled, "down!"

"One!" Every girl called out at the same time.

"Up!" She sounded like a drill sergeant.

I was prepared this time. I brought my chin to the bar at the same time as everyone and when Lily called us down, I joined the chant, "two!"

Once we got to ten, she yelled, "switch!"

I looked around and all my teammates were changing the direction of their hand position on the bar so their fingers were now facing away from them. It was the same up-down pattern as before. My muscles were beginning to shake and my palms were burning.

On number seven of our forth set of pull-ups, my hand slipped and I fell off the bar. I winced and looked at my palm which now had a giant purple bubble blister in the middle of it. All my teammates began groaning and dropped to the floor after me.

"What?" I asked.

"You fell," Carol snapped at me, "now we all have to start over."

"From the first set," Bessie added.

I exhaled roughly. I really do not want to go through all that again.

"Up!" Lily shouted and we began the pull ups again from set one.

We finally got through all of it, and I was definitely struggling the most. By the end, my palms were on fire and my arms were shaking uncontrollably. How do they do this every day? The girls started to put chalk on their grips, and got started on their uneven bar routines.

Coach Lily called me over and said, "look, sweetheart, I know you are new and everything... but what were they feeding you up in New Hampshire?"

I frowned and looked down at myself.

She continued, "you have the balloons of a woman in her late teens."

I frowned. "I am in my late teens."

"That might fly in college gymnastics, but not high school. That's why you fell. From now on, I want you to start writing down everything you eat and give it to me at the end of the week."

I was completely baffled by her audacity to talk about my eating habits. I have had one day with her, and she was already talking to me with such disrespect. I looked around at the other girls, seeing how small they were and quickly realized that it is probably because their coach shamed them into unhealthy diets that were not good for their development in the slightest.

My decision to stay undercover was incredibly tough, but I stuck with it. The amount of eating disorders in the sport is astronomical, but I forced myself to agree with her, and her tone changed drastically when she told me to work on floor by myself.

Coach Lily wanted me to figure out what skills I wanted in my routine, and she would check-in on me later. I was later told that morning practices were always dedicated to the bars and beam routines, while the evening practices were geared toward floor and vault.

After practice, we all changed into our school clothes and went about our business. I ran into a few of them throughout the day and asked them if they had similar experiences throughout the year, and they did. Multiple times. Not only was the coaching style and the hours physically and mentally draining for the athletes, but she was also pushing them into eating disorders.

It was the only time I have ever not wanted school to end. When that final bell rang, I knew that I would have to go back to that dreaded practice.

I changed into my leotard again and we did running warm-ups before everyone headed to the vault and I stayed on floor.

Coach Lily was duel coaching, getting me to complete skills I had only dreamed of when I was younger. I was too anxious of the lecture I would receive if I did not do the skill she wanted me to do. However, when I completed them, I felt invincible, like I could fly as I twisted and flipped in the air for hours.

Everyone moved onto floor with me, and one girl did a front hand spring but landed on her toes. Her high pitched scream made me jolt, and I watched her collapse to the ground. Lily approached her slowly as the girl cried into her elbow to keep herself quiet. Lily squatted down next to her and talked to her softly. Then, I saw her push the girls dislocated toes back into place and told her to do her pass again.

"Oh my god," I said to Bessie, "is that normal?"

Bessie shrugged and said, "usually." Then she grimaced, "I'd hate to be her right now."

The girl stood up and started limping to the corner of the floor to do her tumbling pass again. Tears were streaming down her face as she hyperventilated to try to stop crying.

"No limping, you look like a baby," Coach Lily snapped at her.

The girl straightened up, but was still crying. She got to the edge of the floor and did her tumbling pass perfectly.

"Good, now let's tape you up," Lily said and escorted the girl off the floor. She called out, "next!" And forced the girl to sit on her butt while Lily used white athletic tape to tape her toes and foot tightly.

"Michelle! Let's see what you've got," Lily called out.

I walked to the edge of the floor and looked down at myself. I had white chalk marks on my hands and my feet, carpet burns on my elbows, and painfully sore muscles and joints. I blew a raspberry between my lips before I started running full speed into my tumbling pass, executing it perfectly. I saluted at the end of it, because Coach Lily had been yelling at me to remember.

I walked backward to the edge of the floor and Lily corrected me, "keep your head level, you're throwing it back a little."

"Will do," I said and wiped some of the sweat off my forehead and tightened my ponytail.

I heard behind me, "I thought it was pretty good."

I turned around and saw Tom standing there with his hands in his black coat pockets, smiling up at me.

"What are you doing here?" I was so giddy and tired, I fell into his arms and he gave me a hug. I really needed that hug.

I noticed Tom peer behind me and I could feel Lily's eyes staring at the back of my head. He answered, "just wanted to see my girl at practice, that's all."

Lily's voice came up to us and said, "Michelle. Floor. Now."

I widened my eyes toward Tom and left. Lily turned to Tom and told him that visitors were not allowed at practice.

"I'm sorry. I'm going, I'm going." Tom put his hands up in surrender and turned around to leave.

Bessie leaned to me. In a low voice she asked, "is that your boyfriend?"

I nodded to water the seed that Tom planted for us. "Yeah."

"He's cute."

"He is, isn't he?" I chuckled. She wasn't wrong.

"Michelle!" Lily yelled, "I want to see you do your back pass, then your front pass, then your back pass all in a row. Go."

I rushed to the front of the line and frantically did as I was told. I did my back pass, and took a few steps back before I did my front pass. Then, I went to do my back pass again. Back to back to back. I noticed that Tom was leaning back against the door, watching me as I tumbled.

During my last back tumbling pass, I was so exhausted that I began twisting too early which caused my flip to not be as high. I was not expecting to land on the ground so soon, and I heard a sharp crack sound followed by a severe pain in my ankle that made me gasp and I fell to the ground.

"Michelle!" Tom called out and I could see him running as fast as he could to me. He slid on his knees when he reached me and started to put his arms around me.

"Walk it off." Lily approached us.

I started to push Tom away, and I confidently said, "I'm fine."

Tom's arms hovered around me as I tried to stand up. The numbness that tingled my foot quickly subsided to pure pain and I collapsed back to the ground with a painful hiss. I thought I was going to pass out. Not only was my foot in a tremendous amount of pain, but my chest was cramping and my throat felt strained. I need my inhaler. Tom caught me and wrapped his arms around my back and my legs and held me close to him.

Tears were spilling out of my eyes, and my stomach was churning aggressively. Every pore in my body began to sweat from the pain. I bit my lips together because I thought I was going to puke, and my vision momentarily faded to black before coming into focus again.

Tom carried me like a fireman in his prime off the floor and to the door, trying his best not to bounce me too much. Coach Lily was having a field day yelling at me, but Tom kept biting his tongue as he tried to ignore her. I rested my head against his chest, absolutely drained from my few gruesome days on this case.

Tom carefully opened his car door and set me in the passenger seat. I grabbed under my knee to keep my foot from touching anything, and Tom reassured that he would be right back. He ran over to the payphone by the parking lot, and made a call.

Tom's POV

It took everything I had not to scream at that vile coach. I kept my jaw clenched as I walked Mickey to my car and I set her in the passengers seat. Her foot was definitely broken, and the sound of the crack kept echoing in my head.

"Are you okay?" I asked her once she was settled. She nodded, but I could tell she was trying hard not to cry. Her face was terribly pale, and I thought she might get sick.

"Don't answer that," I said. I remembered her inability to breathe on her own, and how she left an extra inhaler in my car a while ago after the case where I was on the football team and she was a cheerleader. I whipped open my glove compartment and fished around until I found her inhaler. I gripped it in my hand and shook it vigorously and helped guide it to her lips. I verbally guided her into taking a deep breath while I squeezed the medicine into her lungs, and she held her breath for ten seconds before letting out an exhale.

"Deep breaths, good job. In, one, two, three... out, one, two, three." I continued to try to help her calm down a bit and she gave herself another puff of her inhaler. Once she exhaled again, I asked, "feeling a little better? I'm going to call Fuller, all right?"

She nodded, and I kept the door open as I ran to a nearby payphone and called Fuller.

"Captain Fuller, it's me, Hanson."

"How's it going Hanson?" Fuller asked.

I explained the entire situation to Fuller and finished with, "I think we should pull her off this case."

"Yeah, I think so too," he said, "but we have no one else. I want you to take her to that athletic trainer."

"What?!"

"We have to protect the students."

"We have to protect Mickey!"

"If she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to."

"Fine," I said, "let me call you back."

I hung up and walked back to Mickey, knowing full well that she was going to that horrible athletic trainer.

Mickey's POV

Tom came back and relayed to me the entire conversation he had with Captain Fuller.

"But, you don't have to if you don't want to. I will take you to the hospital right now," he said, trying to talk me out of it.

I shook my head. "Take me to Alex. This might be the last chance we have at busting this guy."

Tom sighed and scooped me back up in his arms again. He looked at my foot and his eyes went wide. It was tender, swollen, and colorfully bruised. 

"Feels like someone dropped a dumbbell on it," I said.

"Looks like it too," he said.

We got to the athletic trainers office and he welcomed us in. Tom set me down on the doctor bed, and Alex asked him to leave the room. Tom was very hesitant, but I told him to go. Tom finally agreed, and he left the room while shutting the door behind him.

Alex first began by examining my ankle, then he asked how my shoulders were doing. Then, he moved on to complimenting my body and finally commented how with my broken ankle, I couldn't run away.

Tom burst back into the room after I shouted his name. I pulled my sleeve back over my arm that Alex tried to rip off, and Tom promptly arrested him. He had already called for back up while waiting for me, and an officer from the Metro Station came by and took him down town.

Tom came up to me and asked, "are you all right?"

"I'm just spooked is all," I said. I was completely overwhelmed and exhausted. "I just want to go home."

"Do you want me to call you an ambulance?" One of the other officers asked us.

"No," Tom said, "I'll drive her."

Tom carried me back to his car and was careful to make sure I didn't get anything to touch my foot. He drove to the hospital carefully, and later he drove me home with a pair of crutches, a cast on my left foot, and a bottle of pain medication. He never left me, and I really appreciated that.

Fuller told me to take that day, and the next day off from work. Tom had visited with dinner both days and we watched television together until midnight when he finally went home after I forced him.

Once my short break was over, I went back to work and was put on paperwork duty until my ankle was healed. It took Tom some convincing that I did not need him to pick me up to get to work. Fuller told me that a lot of the girls had come forward for being abused by their athletic trainer. He thanked me for my diligent observation. The gymnastics program was promptly shut down at that school and was put under further investigation.

I hope you this liked this one!
Sorry it was long, I almost made it in 2 parts lol
I wrote this before I realized that there is a gymnastics episode, and that episode irks me 😂😂
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Stay tuned for the next update!