TMD; The Mighty Ducks; Preferences and Imagines

𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕋𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝔽𝕦𝕝𝕥𝕠𝕟

I always figured being Fulton Reed's little sister meant I had an invisible shield around me. Nobody would mess with me because they knew who my brother was — big, tough, scary-looking, "silent but deadly" type.

But I guess that only works when he's actually there.

At school, I was just me. Quiet. Pale. Loner. Not in a cool, mysterious way — more like invisible. I guess that made me an easy target.

Troy Masters and his buddies — Jace and Riley — noticed me sometime after Christmas break. I don't know why. Maybe they were bored. Maybe I looked weak. Maybe they were just jerks. Whatever the reason, they latched on.

"Hey Reed!" Troy would call from behind me in the halls. "Looking like a walking paper towel again today!"

"C'mon Troy," Riley would laugh. "She can't help it if she was born with negative melanin."

"Probably thinks she's better than us. Little Miss Vampire."

They didn't stop at words. A shove into the lockers here. A tripped foot there. Once, Troy smacked my books out of my arms in front of the entire cafeteria. I didn't cry. Not in front of them.

But I stopped eating lunch. Started taking longer routes to class. Sometimes I'd fake being sick just to stay home. I thought I could just ride it out.

I was wrong.

Friday. Last period. Gym.

I didn't even see it coming.

We were supposed to be playing basketball. I was doing my best to avoid everything, head down, eyes low. But Troy wasn't having that. He passed the ball to Riley — hard — and right as I turned the corner under the hoop, Riley "accidentally" elbowed me. Right in the ribs.

I hit the floor.

"Oops," he smirked.

The teacher didn't even notice.

That night, I came home late. I'd taken the long way again. Tried to breathe through the ache in my side and hoped no one would notice how stiff I was moving.

Fulton was on the couch, taping up his hockey stick. Dean Portman was there too — half-asleep with a bag of chips on his chest.

"You're home late," Fulton said without looking up.

"Library," I lied. "Group project."

He glanced up — narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you limping?"

"I'm not."

"You're walking like you fought a grizzly bear. What happened?"

Dean sat up, alert now. "Someone fought you?"

"Drop it, guys," I mumbled, trying to get to my room.

But Fulton stood up and blocked the hall.

"Who. Touched. You."

His voice was low. Calm. But deadly.

I froze.

Dean stood too. "You didn't tell us anyone was messing with you."

"I didn't want to start anything."

Fulton crossed his arms. "Tell me their names."

I shook my head.

"I swear to God, if you don't tell me, I'll go down to that school and shake the names out of every mouth in that hallway."

Dean cracked his knuckles. "You're not alone, okay? We don't let stuff like this slide."