Breaking The Ice

Chapter 1: The Golden Boy’s Secret

The ice rink is the loudest place in the world during the day. It is full of screaming fans, whistling coaches, and the thunder of skates hitting the boards. But at night, it is a tomb. The air is so cold it bites the inside of my nose. Every breath I take feels like swallowing tiny needles of ice.

I pull the sleeves of my oversized hoodie over my hands. I hate this place. I hate the smell of old sweat, expensive cologne, and frozen rubber. Most of all, I hate the people who rule this ice.

My name is Maya Vance. In the halls of Eastview High, I am a ghost. I walk with my head down. I eat my lunch in the library. I have a scholarship here because I am the smartest girl in the grade, not because my parents have a summer home in the Hamptons. My clothes are from thrift stores. My shoes are worn out. To keep my scholarship, I have to work as the student athletic trainer. My job is simple: stay invisible, restock the medical kits, and keep the players healthy enough to win.

I walk down the long, dim hallway toward the locker rooms. My footsteps echo against the linoleum floor. This school feels like a palace for people who don't deserve it. I pass the trophy case. I don't look at it. I know exactly what is inside. There are pictures of the hockey team holding gold cups. In the center of every photo is Jaxson Thorne.

He is the "Golden Boy." He has blond hair that always looks perfect and blue eyes that look like a frozen lake. To the teachers, he is a star. To the girls, he is a dream. To me, he is a monster.

One year ago, my brother, Leo, was the star goalie. He was the only person in my family who had a chance at a real future. But then came the party at Jaxson’s house. Something happened. A fight broke out. My brother was blamed. Jaxson stood there with his perfect face and told the principal that Leo started it. Leo was expelled. He lost his scholarship. Now, my brother works twelve-hour shifts at a garage, covered in grease, while Jaxson gets to be the king of the school.

I reach the heavy metal door of the boys' locker room. It is 6:00 PM. The team left an hour ago. I am here to restock the medical tape before I go home to study for my AP Biology exam. I push the door open. It creaks loudly. I expect the room to be empty and dark.

Instead, I hear a sound. It is a sharp, painful hiss. It is followed by a loud clatter of a heavy wooden stick hitting the floor.

I stop. My heart beats faster. I look toward the back of the room, near the captain's locker. Sitting on a wooden bench, hunched over in pain, is Jaxson Thorne.

He is not wearing his jersey. He is just in a thin t-shirt. Even from here, I can see he is shaking. He is clutching his right wrist to his chest like it is a precious diamond. His hockey stick is lying on the floor. He dropped it because he couldn't hold the weight anymore.

"Thorne?" I ask. My voice sounds small and shaky in the large, tiled room.

He flinches. His head snaps up. For a split second, the "Golden Boy" mask is gone. His face is pale. There is sweat dripping down his forehead even though the room is freezing. I see pure, raw fear in his eyes. Then, as soon as he recognizes me, the fear vanishes. It is replaced by a cold, sharp glare.

"Get out, Vance," he spat. He tries to sound mean, but his voice is thin.

"You’re hurt," I say. I don't leave. I am a medic first and a hater second. My feet move toward him before I can tell them to stop.

"I said get out!" He tries to stand up. He uses his bad hand to push himself off the bench. As soon as he puts weight on it, his face turns gray. He cries out and collapses back onto the wood.

I am standing in front of him now. I don't ask for permission. I reach out and grab his arm. His skin is burning hot. I pull his hand away from his chest.

"Don't touch me," he growls. He tries to pull away, but he is too weak.

I look at his wrist. My breath catches in my throat. It is a disaster. The skin is swollen to twice its normal size. It is a deep, angry shade of purple and blue. I gently press my thumb against the bone. He gasps, his body going stiff.

"You’re an idiot, Jax," I whisper. "If you play on this, you will snap the tendons. You might never use this hand properly again. The championship is in two weeks. The college scouts are coming. You know that better than anyone."

Jaxson looks away from me. His jaw is so tight I can see the muscles jumping. "If you tell the coach, I am finished. My dad... he put everything into this season. If I don't get that pro scout’s attention, he’ll never look at me again. I have to play."

I look at his expensive skates and his custom-made stick. He has everything, yet he looks more trapped than I do.

"You can't even hold a water bottle," I point out. "How are you going to lead a team?"

He leans his head back against the metal lockers with a heavy thunk. He looks exhausted. The silence stretches between us. This is the boy who ruined my family. He is the reason my brother is tired every night. He is the reason I have to work this job. And right now, his entire future is sitting in the palm of my hand.

I could tell the coach. I could end his career tonight. It would be easy. It would be justice for Leo.

But then I look at my own hands. I want to be a doctor. I want to heal people, even the people I hate. And I realize something else. Jaxson Thorne is the most powerful person in this school. If he is my friend—or at least, if he owes me—the people who bully me will finally stop.

"I won't tell," I say slowly.

Jaxson looks at me. He looks like he doesn't believe me. "Why? You hate me. Everyone knows you hate me."

"I do hate you," I say clearly. I want him to know that. "But I want a deal. I will treat your hand in secret. I have the supplies. I know the exercises. I can tape you so you can play without the coach noticing. But in return, you are going to be my shield."

He narrows his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means that tomorrow at lunch, you are going to sit at my table," I say. "You are the King of Eastview. If the King sits with the ghost, the ghost becomes untouchable. No one will throw trash at me. No one will push me into lockers. You make me off-limits, and I keep your secret."

Jaxson stares at me. I can see him calculating. He hates the idea of being seen with me. He hates needing a "scholarship girl." But he looks down at his purple, throbbing wrist. He has no choice.

"Fine," he whispers. "It’s a deal. But if anyone finds out we are talking... if anyone thinks there is something going on between us..."

"Trust me," I say, pulling a roll of professional tape from my bag. "The last thing I want is for people to think I like you."

I sit on the bench next to him. I begin to wrap the tape around his skin. It is the first time I have ever been this close to him. I can smell the mint on his breath and the cold air on his skin. My fingers are steady, but inside, my heart is racing.

I look at his face. He is watching me work. For the first time, he isn't looking at me like I am a ghost. He is looking at me like I am the only person who can save him.

I finish the wrap and let go of his hand. I pack my medical bag with trembling fingers. I have just tied my life to the person I promised to never forgive. I am walking on thin ice, and I have no idea if it is strong enough to hold us both.

"Tomorrow," I whisper, not looking at him. "Twelve-thirty. The center table in the cafeteria. Don't be late."

Jaxson doesn't answer. He just stares at his taped wrist. I turn around and walk toward the heavy locker room door. My heart is finally slowing down. I just need to get home, study, and forget the feeling of his skin on mine.

I reach the door and pull it open just an inch.

Movement catches my eye. Down the long, dim hallway, a shadow ducks behind a row of red lockers. I see the distinct glow of a smartphone screen and the quick click of a camera shutter.

My blood turns to ice. Someone was there. Someone saw us.