A Hockey Player's Guide To Deception

Chapter One

Kayla buried her face in the pillow, inhaling deeply as the familiar scent enveloped her. It was a nostalgic blend of rosemary and sage, tinged with the faint mustiness of dust, a smell that was undeniably Nate. She let out a long, shaky sigh and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The room was exactly as he had left it, frozen in time. The bed neatly made, drawers half-open as if he'd just stepped out for a moment, and shelves lined with trophies and medals from all the competitions he'd won. Each item was a poignant reminder that her brother had once been here, that Nathan had lived, breathed, laughed, and cried. Now, he was simply gone.

The painful truth pressed down on her chest, and Kayla closed her eyes against the flood of memories. Sometimes, she could almost see him in front of her—strands of coffee-colored hair falling into his eyes, that boyish grin with the cheeky dimple in his left cheek, and the playful mischief dancing in his brown eyes whenever he teased her. They had been so different, not just in looks but in spirit. Nathan with his easy charm and natural athleticism, and her, with her dark curly hair, slightly tan skin, and blue eyes. She had always felt like the odd one out, not striking enough to draw attention, but distinctive enough to make people wonder. She was, after all, half black in a family that was otherwise white. 

The circumstances of her birth were stark and undeniable—Kayla was the product of an affair. Her mother, who had embodied the ideal of a devout Christian woman had an affair, and not with a man from their community, but with a Black man. The affair became the scandal of their town, and Kayla was viewed as a living symbol of her mother's carnality. Her family never failed to remind her about the roots of her birth.

Kayla often wondered why her mother had chosen to keep her, why she had decided to embrace the child born from such a union. It was a question that remained unanswered, as her mother passed away shortly after Kayla's birth, leaving her to bear the brunt of the punishment the world thought she deserved. Kayla often wondered if her mother would have showered her with love and affection had she been alive or would she shun her like the rest of her family. Kayla struggled with her identity though out her whole life, she struggled to fit in especially when she was subject to harsh scrutiny, her identity had been the bane of her existence and still was. She never knew which side of her background to identify with. The white side of her resented her for her something she had no control over and her black side she knew nothing about. She was like a lone puppy struggling to understand why she had been left to bear the consequences of a decision made long before her own existence.

Nate had been her anchor her whole life. Amid all the confusion about who she was, Nate saw her as a person, not just a symbol of her mother's choices. He had introduced her to ice hockey, passing on his passion for the sport, and she quickly found solace in it. Hockey became her escape, a way to channel the pent-up shame, anger, and confusion that came with being a social pariah from the moment she was born. Over time, she grew to love the sport—it became her refuge, a world where she could find peace away the chaos of her life. Nate had always been her protector, standing up for her against the relentless bullying and taunting. But now that he was gone, she felt adrift.  She had excelled at the sport, enough so that she was allowed to play along with the other guys on the hockey team, her school didn't have a female team. The hockey team, out of respect for Nate, had left her alone while he was alive, but after his death, being on the team became unbearable. The other players were especially cruel, they didn't hold back with their sexist and racist comments, the constant barrage wore her down. The sport that had once been her sanctuary now felt like a battlefield, and it became too much to bear. Reluctantly, she quit the team for her own sanity. She couldn't bear to associate the memory of her brother with hurt. It would kill her slowly. Kayla was never one to back down—she had learned early on that as a social outcast that she had to stand up for herself because no one else would. But grief had shattered her world, leaving her in a state of numbness and despair. It was as if she had forgotten how to live, how to fight. Everything felt bleak and worthless, and she struggled to find the strength to keep going.