Just Another Day
Michelle’s POV-
I tossed and turned all night long.
Sleep was not happening. After what felt like forever, I finally checked the time—2:00 a.m.
‘Ugh. Just great.’
I sighed and pushed off the covers. No point in lying around — if my brain wanted to stay awake, I might as well give it something to do.
I flicked on the bedside lamp and searched the dimly lit room for my jacket, boots, and skates. Once I had everything, I quietly slid open the window and climbed out — like I’d done a hundred times before.
At this point, sneaking out was basically a skill. Comes with practice.
The frozen lake—Riolin- was always my go-to.
The only place I could actually breathe — blasting pucks into the goal net or skating laps until my legs burned and my mind finally shut up.
It was the only way to quiet my thoughts.________________________________________
I didn’t know how long I’d been there, but I wasn’t thinking about time. I was just skating, faster with every turn and stride, like I was trying to outrun my own thoughts.
Eventually, I slowed down, breathing a little harder, the adrenaline slowly fading.
I was soaked through with sweat when I plopped down onto the wooden bench right outside. ‘Nothing gets you going like a solid four-hour practice session at the crack of dawn…’ I thought to myself and chuckled.
I didn’t notice the birds chirping. Didn’t see the sunrise painting the sky in golds and pinks.
Honestly, I didn’t even realize how late it was until the joggers and cyclists started showing up looking all smug and victorious with their ‘it’s 7 a.m. and I’m already better than you’ energy.
Panicking, I grabbed my stuff in a hurry and practically dove into Aaron’s car. He shot me a grin in the rearview mirror, that usual mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“Ready?” he asked, clearly amused by my whole half-dead, half-freaked-out look.
“Ready,” I said, flashing a grin and pretending like I hadn’t just spent all night skating like crazy, for no apparent reason—at least, none anyone could see.
Currently, I was slightly dizzy, my legs were jelly, and my brain was running on fumes. I reeked of deodorant from the frantic rush when I put it on.
But I wasn’t about to let him see me like that—sweaty, exhausted, and completely burnt out.
Not when he was standing there looking like he’d walked straight out of a movie scene— messy blond hair catching the morning light, that infuriatingly perfect face, right now grinning from ear to ear as he looked at me.
See, here’s the thing: I have the biggest crush on him.
He’s basically perfect. That silky blond hair whipping in the wind as he tears around in his race car, the way his ice-blue eyes glint every time he smiles, and his lips curl up into a smirk— that infuriatingly perfect smirk.
Even the way he talks, walks, eats, sleeps— (Not that I’d know anything about that…Obviously.) is swoon-worthy.
But yeah.
Everything about him screams heartthrob.
He’s the school’s unofficial playboy — the kind of guy who could say ‘Hi!’ to you once, and you'd be planning your future kids' names by the end of the day.
He’s on the school hockey team— just like me.
But, truth be told, he’s not exactly good at it.
Let’s just say he’s got a style — one that involves more flailing than skating. But hey, he’s not a lost cause! With some practice — okay, a lot of practice — he might actually get decent.
That’s where I come in.
See, he needs help with skating and stickhandling and goal-shooting. And I — conveniently — need someone with a car who’s willing to drive me around.
So, we struck a deal:
He picks me up after my secret early-morning venting sessions, and I coach him after school.
I know, I know.
Not exactly the most romantic setup in the world…
But it gets me time with him.
And honestly? I’ll take what I can get.
________________________________________
School is such a bore.
I spend the first four classes of the day (don’t even ask me what subjects) sitting next to Cameron—my best friend and professional in-class doodler.
Then it’s off to Chemistry in the big lab, where we mess around with chemicals (and clearly did not learn our lesson after the first few explosions). We survive just long enough for recess to roll around like a gift from the heavens.
After that comes English—which, for us, is the official cue to sneak out and head to the skate park.
A bunch of people join us, but usually it’s the same crew: me, Cameron, Aaron, Paige, David, Brenda, Alex, Ethan, Skylar, Jake and… Kayden.
Now, Kayden’s not exactly my favorite person. He argues with me over everything. Like, it gets annoying. Then I get annoyed. Because it’s annoying.
UGH! He’s so annoying.
But, apparently, I’m the only one with an issue with him, so… he sticks around.
Anyway, it feels like Aaron and I kind of run the whole ‘skip-school-bunk-class-for-the-skate-park’ thing.
Could be the charm. Could be the popularity.
Probably both.
Not tryanna to brag or anything. (Okay... maybe just a little.)
Being popular does have its perks.
Once we’re done slacking off and accomplishing absolutely nothing productive, it’s time for our extracurriculars.
Skylar runs off for swim practice, David goes away for… lord knows what, and the rest of us — Cameron, Paige, Kayden, Alex, Aaron, and me — head to the school skating rink, where the rest of the team joins us.
We ‘warm up’ (if lazily skating in circles counts), chase each other around, and basically just mess around —Until Coach storms in and snaps us back to reality.
Today we went through hardcore practice:
Three and a half hours of brutally exhausting drills, sweat, yelling, and pushing our limits — the kind of practice that leaves you half-alive and questioning all your life choices.
Just when we thought we were finally free, coach called us back in for a quick talk about an upcoming event.
Spoiler Alert: it was not quick.
He kicked things off with the usual dramatic speech—talking about how the competition could land us spots in university skating leagues, and how ‘all the big champs started here,’ and ‘literally the whole town will be watching,’
So, no pressure or anything…
Then came his favourite part: trash-talking the rival schools, especially Brooklynde High.
He’s got serious beef with their coach—Coach Claire. No one really knows what went down between them, but now they act like sworn enemies in a soap opera.
Sometimes it feels like we’re the kids caught up between two divorced parents fighting over custody. (Kidding!)
We all just kinda stood there, nodding like we were taking it seriously, while secretly wondering if we’d still have time to hit the snack cart before it closed.
Cameron, standing beside me with her arms crossed and one eyebrow dramatically raised, mouthed, “Coach Claire drama again?”
I shrugged back at her, trying to keep a straight face, and mouthed: “I know, right!”
—complete with the exaggerated eyeroll we’d perfected over the years.
Coach was mid-rant, full steam ahead, when he suddenly dropped a bombshell none of us saw coming.
“This time,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect like he was announcing the finale of a reality show,
“It won’t be your typical hockey tournament.”
We all blinked.
Wait, what?
“No,” he continued, clearly loving the suspense.
“This year, it’s going to be a figure skating competition.”
The room exploded — groans, gasps, protests, and “What are you even saying!” reactions bounced off the walls.
Me? I was caught somewhere between shock and uncontrollable laughter.
Because of course—just when things were finally starting to feel somewhat normal—this had to happen.
Now, personally?
I don’t really have a problem with figure skating.
I was actually pretty decent when I was a kid. My mom signed me up—she loved it more than I did, honestly.
But I quit after she… well, after she wasn’t around anymore.
No one really talks about what happened.
Not clearly, anyway.
And eventually, I stopped asking—because there was no point.
Back on the rink, the team was spiraling.
Brenda was pacing like someone just told her we’d be performing Swan Lake in front of the Queen.
Alex kept saying, “There’s no way this is real,” on loop.
I’m pretty sure Cameron was already crafting an excuse to skip every practice until graduation.
And Coach? Completely unfazed.
Hands behind his back, nodding like he was delivering a speech.
“It’ll build control, discipline, elegance,” he said, ignoring the collective identity crisis unraveling in front of him.
And then, he added, completely calm: “The competition will be in six months.”
He went on, totally chill.
“In three months, I’ll pick three pairs—one girl and one boy in each. The last three months will be for choreography, synchronisation, costumes, rehearsals, etc., etc.”
Honestly? I was a little relieved. Six months felt doable.
The others reacted like someone had just murdered their favourite celebrity.
“Ugh! Grow up, people!” I snapped.
“You’ve got time—use it.”
I was already mentally building a practice schedule when a voice spoke up.
“Ugh, who even made you team captain?”
Kayden. Of course.
His voice made me want to eat my own skate.
I turned slowly, raising an eyebrow like, ‘Did you seriously just say that?’
He yanked off his gloves and tossed them like my existence had personally offended him.
I didn’t flinch.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you would’ve made a way better captain!”
My sarcasm dripped like melted ice.
“Too bad you can’t see the logic—I’m practically shoving it in your face.”
Kayden crossed his arms, squinting like he was preparing for Round Two.
“Maybe let people process before you start barking orders,” he shot back.
“You act like you’re better than the rest of us. Like this doesn’t bother you at all.”
I stepped closer, not backing down.
“I don’t think I’m better than everyone,” I said with a smirk.
“Just better than you.”
Now we were just standing there—two petty idiots in the middle of a teenage standoff.
Everyone else had gone quiet, watching like this was the pre-show to the main drama.
Kayden leaned in, smug.
“Better watch that ego, Captain. Might trip over it during your perfect routine.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I practically saw my brain.
“Please. You’d trip over your own laces before I blink.”
He chuckled and walked off.
He’s so irritating.
And so unnecessarily tall!
And smug. Like, for what?
Ugh. Kayden.
The absolute worst.
