The Plus-Size Girl's Second Shot with the Hockey Captain

Chapter One—Patterns

Mira’s POV

One! Two!! Three!! Let’s go! Go, Ligkers, let’s go!” I screamed at the top of my voice.

The rest of the girls grabbed their pompoms, their short skirts revealing properly oiled legs as they started the dance we have been rehearsing for the junior tournaments. I stood there at the edge of the court, my notepad clutched to my chest, watching as their short skirts flared as they kicked.

I walked around, my curious eyes checking who wasn’t getting the dance right, and my observation notepad pressed hard against my chest. That’s all I was known for. Seeing errors or things that don’t just sit right. That’s why everyone hates me because when you see too much, people just assume you’re always judging and searching for for flaws.

I wanted to stop all of that, but it’s deep-rooted inside me. It was a skill that brought this far and helped me earn my position as the team statistician and junior sports journalist. Exactly why Damon hates me as well.

I almost let out a loud curse at just the thought of his name.

"Sharp, ladies! You have to throw those legs higher than that!” Coach Ava ordered, her voice cutting through the music playing in the background.

I pressed my glasses up my nose just as my eyes caught it. One of the girls, Chloe, was half a beat behind on the turn. She definitely needs more practice, as we want to deliver the best cheerleading dance. I scribbled on my notepad.

"Great! That’s enough for the day! Same time tomorrow. By two in the afternoon." Coach Ava clapped her hands, dismissing the squad.

The girls dispersed, laughing and chatting about weekend plans. I stayed behind, gathering scattered water bottles and stray hair ties, keeping my head down. If I were useful, maybe I wouldn't be noticed. Maybe I could be invisible for just a few minutes.

"Great job, Whale Girl!" Chloe said, grabbing her purse from the bench close to me. She must have forgotten it. She flashed me a wicked smile before hurrying out to catch up with the rest.

My thumb curled into my palm, my nails digging into my skin. Whale Girl. That name that had followed me since fourth grade, when I'd fallen face-first during an aerial dance routine and the entire gymnasium had erupted in laughter. The name that reminded me that no matter how many statistics I memorized, no matter how many articles I wrote for the school press, I would always be the girl who took up too much space.

I waited until the sound of their footsteps faded before I straightened up. The hall was empty now. I looked down at my notepad, at the careful observations written in my precise handwriting. I wished, not for the first time, that I could stop seeing and just be one of the girls who moved without thinking, who laughed without calculating the social cost. Sometimes I wished I could stop noticing everything. Maybe then I could just sit with the other girls, laugh about boys and makeup, and enjoy myself without wondering who was watching me or what they were thinking.

"Mira?"

I startled, dropping the water bottles and turning around. Coach Ava walked out of the staff corridor, her clipboard tucked under her arm. I stood up, straightening my shoulders.

"Good day, Coach Ava.” I said, feigning a smile.

"How's your brother’s health now? Heard he had a serious injury after falling hard during the last games against Moonhigh Academy. " She settled onto the bleachers, patting the space beside her.

I sat, keeping a careful distance. "He's... he's getting better. The doctors are keeping a close watch."

The lie tasted bitter. The truth was that Matheo, my brother, the hockey prodigy who had been destined for nationals, was lying in a hospital bed with tubes in his arms, and no one could tell me why he had collapsed on the ice. The truth was that I suspected that something was wrong, that maybe someone could have done this to him. But suspicion without proof was baseless.

Coach Ava's expression softened. "Well, I wish him a speedy recovery. I’m certain his teammates miss him already." She paused, then leaned forward. "That's not actually why I stopped you. The school is sending a small group to the junior tournament events. I want you and Chloe representing the cheerleading squad. I want you to make me proud. Is that okay?"

For a moment, the weight of everything lifted, and it felt like I didn’t have a thousand and one worries on my shoulders.

"Yes, Coach," I said, and this time the smile was real. "Thank you."

"Chloe is going; the rest of the cheerleaders and you take stats of the game.” She grabbed me by my hand. "Remember, you can join if you want to, but don't get too carried away and don't keep tabs.”

"Yes, Coach.”

"You can leave this.” She said, pointing at the mess of bottles. “The cleaners would take care of it.”

I was so caught up in the rare moment of triumph that I didn't see him until it was too late. Damon Reyes stepped out from the corridor, a coffee cup in his hand. We collided; the hot liquid splashed across my sneakers, soaking through the canvas to burn my toes.

I froze, staring at the spreading stain, my mind already calculating the damage: my ruined shoes, the burning sensation on my toes, and the humiliation of being clumsy in front of him.

"Oh, you are just going to stand there and act like you don't know you just threw my coffee?" Damon asked in a cold tone.

I looked up. He was staring at me with that familiar mix of irritation and disgust.

"The fat from her face is too much for her to open her mouth to issue an apology," one of his teammates called out, and the laughter that followed felt like physical blows.

At that moment, it felt like I couldn't breathe. I clutched my notepad to my chest and walked out as fast as I could without running. Running would give them more reasons to laugh at me.

I held back the tears threatening to drop just as my phone buzzed.

"Mom: Come to the hospital. The doctor is here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time I reached the hospital, I already knew something had changed.

Mom was sitting in the plastic chair beside Matheo's bed, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned white. My brother looked small in the hospital gown, his usual vibrant energy drained away as machines beeped around him.

“Mom,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “What happened?”

She looked at me, tears tracking down her cheeks.

Then she placed a crumpled sheet of paper in my palm.

"Matheo seems to be drugged," she said, her voice hollow. "Or it must have been using some pills. They flushed the drugs from his system, but we can't put a name on whatever he must have been taking."

I stared at the image, at the foreign substances that had no business being in my brother's body. "Mom, Matheo wouldn't take drugs just because he wants to play hockey. He is talented. Dad teaches him well."

But even as I said it, I saw the doubt in her eyes.

"If I need answers," I whispered, clutching the scan until it crumpled, "I'll have to find them myself."

My mother looked at me then, really looked at me, and for the first time, I saw something in her expression that looked like fear. Not of the drugs. Not of the hospital.

Of me. Of what I was about to become.

I stood up, slipping the scan into my bag beside my notepad. Outside the window, the autumn sky was darkening, the first stars appearing over the city. Somewhere out there, someone knew the truth about what had happened to my brother. Someone had written those files, administered those drugs, and thought they could get away with it because Matheo was just another athlete, and I was just another invisible girl who noticed too much.

They were wrong.

I pulled out my notepad and flipped to a fresh page. At the top, I wrote: Archive 20.

It was time to start seeing clearly.