What Goes Around by Denene Millner

it, but that was challenging, considering it was down the hall, in the opposite direction of the doors leading to the gym. Standing in front of the gym doors facing the coach’s office, Lauren pulled outher ponytail holder and fiddled with her hair, like she was getting it ready for practice. Then she retied one shoe…slowly, then the other. And then, there was the imaginary lint on her Nike gym pants that just needed to be removed, right then, at that moment.
    Just when she was about to get a sip of water from the fountain, her iPhone rang—a text from Sydney. The girl had a way with timing. Lauren pulled up the text and read slowly. Her eyes grew larger with every word of the story Sydney had forwarded from an online Atlanta Journal-Constitution bulletin:
Breaking news (Atlanta): Prominent Buckhead businessman Altimus Duke, owner of several of Georgia’s most successful high-end car dealerships, is under federal investigation for tax fraud and tax evasion. Sources say Duke is accused of bilking the federal government of hundreds of thousands of dollars over the past four years. A spokesman for Duke Enterprises, the parent company of Duke’s eleven dealerships, said the businessman would have no comment, except to say that he intended to fight the charges vigorously.
    Mortified, Lauren started to text Sydney back but instead made a detour to YRT. The site was prime time for gossip updates—they always made their way to the sitejust a few hours after school, when all the juicy mess that happened during the day hit the fan. Sure enough, there it was in all its glory; whoever posted the Duke business debacle didn’t even bother to put any spin on it—just posted the AJC story with one simple line following: Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, namaste.
    Lauren’s eyes shot up when she saw Meghan, Elizabeth, and Caroline walking her way, huddled over Caroline’s phone. The three of them were whispering and cackling and acting like fools as they tumbled down the hallway, heading for Coach Piper’s office. Lauren steeled herself for the madness.
    â€œI mean, really, the ’must maintain an unimpeachable reputation’ part alone disqualifies her for the job,” Caroline insisted. She didn’t make any kind of effort to lower her voice. “A father who rips off Uncle Sam? Cavorting with hood rats and pushing them off on friends and family? Really?”
    â€œWell, maybe she was taking the ’being cooperative with guest teams’ part literally,” Elizabeth chimed in, peering into a compact mirror to slather gloss on her lips.
    â€œYeah, whatev,” Meghan snapped as the three walked slowly down the hallway. “I don’t care if this is the house the Dukes built. I don’t see it written anywhere on these walls that Lauren has to be the team captain. That whole Thanksgiving party? Total fiasco. And the gangster taxthing with the dad? Hot mess. And as much as she thinks she’s Beyoncé’s long-lost sister, she could use a little extra direction on how to cheer off some of those hips and thighs.”
    â€œYou ain’t never lied,” Elizabeth laughed as the three walked into the coach’s office, one after the other.
    Not even the slamming door could snap Lauren out of her shock.
    Lauren paced back and forth across the lobby, trying really hard to look like she wasn’t fazed by what was going on. But it was clear to anyone watching that she was a wreck—and best believe, everyone was watching.
    â€œAll right, then, Lauren, um, see you around,” said Eunice Blake as she and her BFF, Chere Baker, tumbled past her and out the door, both of them giggling. Lauren had seen them whispering all the way down the hallway—who were they kidding, like they weren’t talking about her? Lauren wanted desperately to reach out and slap them or else melt into the wall. And just where the hell was Donald anyway? He