Skating on Lies

DON'T GET ATTACHED

~~TIANA~~

My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I gripped the bag on my lap tighter, like that would help, and stared out the window at the campus coming into view. Red brick buildings and wide fields, completely indifferent to the fact that I was about to walk onto it as someone I'd never been before.

The doors slid shut.

"Oh — wait, stop!"

I was on my feet before I finished the sentence, shoving my arm into the gap and wedging my shoulder through before it could close completely. The doors jerked open and I stepped out onto the pavement, breathing hard.

Then my stomach dropped.

My voice. I had used my actual voice — higher than I'd been training it, the one I'd spent weeks trying to bury. Out loud. On a public bus.

I stood there on the pavement and pressed my hand over my mouth, scanning the faces around me. Nobody was looking. A girl walked past with headphones in. Two guys behind me were laughing out.

Nobody had noticed. I let out a slow breath through my nose and adjusted the strap of my bag. Okay, Tiana, I thought. First crisis of the day. Not much of a problem.

Inside, the corridor was already loud. Two boys just ahead of me were debating swim strokes like their lives depended on it. I was still trying to find the Principal’s office to pick up my schedule and student ID when—

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder out of nowhere. I flinched hard, my whole body reacting before my brain could catch up.

“Yo, new guy?”

I turned. A tall boy with messy brown hair and a cocky grin leaned against the next locker. His hoodie was tied around his shoulders by the sleeves.

He said something first. I missed it completely, too busy calculating exactly how many ways this conversation could go wrong.

“Name, bro?” he repeated, waving a hand over my face.

“Uh… Tiana,” I blurted.

He burst out laughing. “What? That your name?

Shit. My eyes suddenly caught the exit sign at the corner of the hallway. Oh how I'd love to leave right now. “Nah, I said… Tian. It’s Tian.”

“Ohhh, cool." He nodded, still grinning. “I’m Tyler. Welcome to the jungle.”

He slapped my shoulder, a little too hard. I forced myself not to flinch this time.

“You play any sports? The school needs fresh blood for the teams.”

“No sports,” I muttered, eyes on my bag. “Just here to study.”

Tyler chuckled. “Nerd alert. Anyway, if you change your mind, hockey team is always looking. The star player, Kieran , is a beast — but his grades are trash, so their coach’s riding him hard this semester.”

I didn’t give an answer. Just surviving was enough.

I headed toward the exit, but loud shouts and the sharp scrape of blades on ice pulled me toward the big glass windows overlooking the outdoor rink. Pucks were flying around, and players slammed into the boards. Cold air streamed in from the rink doors.

I just stood there for a moment, watching them. It looked free... maybe. One of the players spun on the ice and another tried to copy him. They seemed to be challenging each other. I leaned forward, my hands pressing on the cold glass.

The vibration of it did something to my chest.

I stepped back immediately and shook my head. No. I couldn’t let myself get invested. I was here to study, keep my head down, and leave this school without anyone ever knowing the truth about me. Getting attached to anything, especially sports would be dangerous.

I turned away and kept walking. Past the rink doors, through the main corridor. My hand went to my pocket to check the time but it wasn't there. I stopped mid step, checked my bag quickly — nothing. My phone was somewhere back in that building.

I turned back, hoping the hallways had emptied. They hadn’t.

As I approached the locker area near the rink exit, raised voices stopped me. I pressed myself against the wall, out of sight, and peeked around the corner.

A boy stood by the bench with his helmet hanging from one hand, sweat in his dark hair. He kept slightly shifting his weight off his left leg. A stern man with a clipboard stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“It was a clean hit,” he said, voice low.

“It was your second game misconduct in three weeks.” The coach stepped closer. “The scouts were up there tonight, Kieran. Three of them. You want to know what they saw?”

So… it's him.

Kieran said nothing.

“They saw a boy who plays like he’s trying to punish someone. And I’m starting to wonder who.”

The words landed hard. He turned away, yanked off his helmet, and dropped it against the bench with a loud c***k.

“My GPA,” he muttered. “You've already pulled my eligibility report.”

“Two point one.” The coach said. “One more incident. One more grade like that in Morrison’s class, and I can’t protect your place on this team. You understand what I’m telling you?”

Kieran 's jaw clenched. “I’ll fix it.”

"You have three weeks before the next academic review. After that it goes to the review board and it’s out of my hands.”

He picked up his clipboard and headed for the door, then stopped. “Fix it. Or everything you’ve been killing yourself for on that ice disappears. And you’ll be left with nothing but the same empty house waiting for you every night.”

Kieran slammed his fist into the nearest locker the second the door closed — the loud metal bang resonated through the hallway which made me jolt back. He stayed there with his forehead pressed against the cold locker, breathing hard.

I backed away, heart racing. I shouldn’t have heard any of that and definitely shouldn’t care.

I retraced my steps, found my phone face down on the floor near where I'd stood watching the rink, and walked out without looking back.