All Is Fair On Ice And In Love

Brown should already be with the team, instead he turns away from the locker room and heads toward the equipment wing. I slow. Where’s he going? Coach will skin anyone late before a championship game. Brown glances over his shoulder, then again. My stomach tightens. He specifically told me not to come to the arena today. That should’ve been enough to make me leave. But I want to surprise him with a goodluck kiss before the Conference Championship final. I follow him, I shouldn’t have. Most of the athletic wing has emptied as players and staff make their final preparations for the championship game. I’m probably overthinking this. Voices drift from the equipment room as I get closer. I wonder who’s in there with him. “…he’ll finally know what losing feels like.”Brown says. I curiously edge toward the doorway. My sneaker catches on a loose strip of rubber matting, it scuffs slightly. The voices stop, my stomach drops. “Did you hear that?” A female voice asks. Brown appears in the doorway so suddenly I almost yelp. I throw myself behind a row of equipment lockers just before his eyes sweep the hallway. For several agonizing seconds, he just stands there, looking and listening. “Probably one of the staff.” The female voice says from inside. “Yeah.” He mutters and disappears back into the room. I wait almost ten seconds. Only when I hear them talking again do I creep toward the doorway. When I peer in through the glass pane. My smile dies. Brown kneels beside an open hockey bag, Winston Cleaver’s number 9 stitched boldly across the side. Grace Tyra stands over him, her brown straight hair cascading down her shoulder. They don’t notice me. Brown pulls one skate onto his lap and loosens only the top few laces. Grace leans against the equipment shelf, arms folded. “You’re taking forever.” Grace huffs. “If I rush it, he’ll notice.” Brown slides a razor blade beneath the leather reinforcement beside the top eyelets. Instead of slicing through, he makes a careful, shallow cut beneath the outer layer. A tiny weakness, almost invisible. Grace squints. “That’s it?” Brown doesn’t look up. “That’s enough.” She rolls her eyes. “I still think slipping something into his water bottle would’ve been easier.” “And risk getting caught the second they test it?” Brown mutters. He turns the skate over, making another small cut beneath the opposite eyelet before threading the lace back through. “No.” He pulls the lace tight. “It has to fail while he’s playing.” Grace watches him relace the skate exactly the way he’d found it. “So what happens?” “He plants hard for a stop or a turn.” Brown tugs the knot once. “The weakened support tears, the lace loosens, and his ankle rolls.” Grace lets out a low whistle. “Ouch.” “Could be weeks.” Brown shrugs. “If he’s unlucky… months.” I go cold, unable to take in what I’ve heard. I despised the haughty Winston Cleaver, clearly not enough to be okay with this. A slow smile spreads across Grace’s face. “No captain, no Winston Cleaver, no hero.” Brown slides the skate back into the bag exactly where it was and zips the compartment halfway. “For once,” he says quietly, “people are going to stop talking about Winston. They’re going to talk about me.” A book slips from the mound in my hand and drops to the floor with a thud. Brown and Tyra whip around to see me peeping in, the colour draining from their faces. “Jasmine…” Brown says my name. I open the door, and walk in unsteadily, knowing they see the accusation on my face. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, voice already hoarse. “Nothing that concerns you!” Grace snarls, taking a step forward. I flinch, Grace Tyra terrifies me. I call her Tyrant Grace for a reason— The most popular girl in Bell University, from a wealthy family and Winston’s on and off girlfriend. Brown’s jealousy I understand, but it surprises me that she’ll work with my boyfriend to sabotage hers. She and her friends— Jill and Debby worked at making my life miserable ever since I started seeing Brown. He’d always dismiss it as girl drama or me throwing tantrums when I talk about the sick things Grace would do to me. “That’s a crime you’re committing.” I say incredulously. In a second Grace crosses the space between us and shoves me back into the wall. I bump the back of my head a bit too hard and it hurts. Her expensive perfume and hairspray now makes me want to throw up. My eyes water as I try to refocus my gaze. “You’re going to get the hell out of here and act like you saw nothing, or else I ruin you!” She says, a dangerous scowl on her face. I look past her at Brown, hoping he’ll intervene. He looks at the skate, then at me. For one second I think he’ll choose me. He doesn’t. My heart splinters. “This is wrong.” I whimper. “He’s your boyfriend, Grace, why do thi–“ The slap that shuts me up makes me bite my lip, I taste blood "I don't have explain myself to you...You’re a scholarship student, right?” She coos way too close to my face. Ice floods my veins. “I’ll have you kicked out. It’s your word against ours after all. Right, Brown?” “She’s not wrong, Jasmine.” He steps forward. “Just try to understand.” I know how much struggle it took to get the Bell scholarship, losing it will shatter me. I begin to cry. “Brown please. Just get rid of the skates so he doesn’t use them. I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He throws his head back laughing and suddenly I don’t know the boy before me. “Jasmine, I need it to work. It’s not like we’re killing him. You hate him too.” “No I don’t! Maybe he’s a bit unruly, arrogant even, but this is too far.” I ramble, mortified. The whole school adores Winston, but I believe he’s a proud jerk. The worship gets to his head. I always say that much to Brown, but it’s still not enough reason for this. “This isn’t you, Brown. You’re going to ruin his career over envy!” Brown’s blue eyes darken, his jaws stiffen. He pushes grace out of the way and yanks me by the collar. I’m afraid and shaken. “Watch your mouth!” He grits out. “I don’t envy him, and you’re going to shut up about this!” I gulp and shake my head nervously. “No, I’m going to tell him, Brown.” I knee him as hard as I can in the gut. He groans and lets go of my collar. I shove Grace out of the way, yank the door open and begin to run. I crash into a cleaning cart, but I scramble back up and keep running. The pounding footsteps behind me, alert me that they followed. “Jasmine!” Brown bellows behind me. The stretch of hallway is completely empty now. I pray someone, anyone will stop this. Tears stream down my face. My lungs are burning, my sides ache and my legs feel like wool. The footsteps behind are getting closer. I burst into the main corridor. The sound of voices and laughter reach me, so many of them. The locker room is only twenty yards away. If I can reach it… “Help!” I scream, my throat tearing. The arena speakers crackle to life. “Testing… one, two…” My voice disappears beneath the feedback. Brown grabs the back of my shirt, tackling me to the floor. I thrash around beneath him to no avail. He hauls me up like I weigh nothing, Grace reaches us panting. “You don’t listen!” Brown shakes me. “Why won’t you just listen.” I whimper and shiver, tendrils of fear creeping up my spine. “We have to do something about her.” Grace says, eyeing me in contempt. “What do you suggest?” Brown asks? “Lock her up until after the game.” She points toward the maintenance room. “ Nobody goes down there during games.” The man I spent a year loving nods in agreement. I try to scream but he clamps a hand over my mouth, so hard I can’t even bite. Grace joins him to grab me away. Brown lets go of my mouth when he believes we're far from earshot distance. “Please!” I beg, lips quivering. Grace yanks a door open and shoves me forward, I realize it’s the maintenance room beneath the rink. “Should’ve listened.” She hisses. “The tank.” She says to Brown. My eyes nearly pop out of their socket. Brown hesitates, she notices. “Relax. The tank’s empty.” She raps it with her knuckles. “That could fill up anytime!” I yell. “Better hope it doesn’t while you’re in there.” Panic floods me and I begin to fight out of Grace’s grip, but Brown grabs both my arms. They drag me towards the tank. Against them I’m helpless, I can only cry. I’m shoved inside and the lid is shut, my fingers are almost caught in that process. Darkness swallows me. All I can do is scream till my voice is hoarse and bang the walls. My heart enters my mouth when I hear a trickling sound. A wail of terror escapes me when I realize what it is. Just like I had feared, the tank was beginning to fill up. Freezing water swirls around my ankles, creeping higher with every second. My pulse slams against my ribs. I’m trapped and might die inside a steel tank beneath Bell University’s ice rink. I spin frantically, my palms scraping against smooth steel. I hurl myself against the steel wall until my shoulders ache “Brown!” I scream, panic clawing up my throat. “Please! Let me out!” I pound on the metal with everything I have. “Grace!” My voice cracks. “Don’t do this.” I don’t get a reply, neither does the lid open. Water has almost reached the top, I’m flailing to stay afloat, while I sputter and cough liquid from my lungs. I don’t know which is more painful, dying this way, where i wouldn’t be found for a while, or my boyfriend’s betrayal. I’m losing consciousness, as more water fill my burning lungs. I claw uselessly at the lid in a final attempt for survival. Something pounds above me, metal groans, the latch opens and a hand pulls me out. I surface with a violent cough. Water burns up my throat, my chest feels as though it’s being crushed from the inside. “Easy.” A deep male voice says. Strong hands roll me onto my side, I retch again until my stomach is empty. Everything is blurry, the face above me refuses to stay in focus. “Stay with me.” My eyelids grow impossibly heavy, darkness swallows me.