Chapter 5 – Mother Knows Something’s Up

“Rae?” My mom’s voice was sharp, her eyes flicking between me and… well, me.

“I—uh—hi, Mom,” Lucas stammered, clutching the hem of my hoodie like it could protect him from incoming doom.

She folded her arms. “Why are you dressed like that? And why is Lucas Park in your room at—” she glanced at the clock, “—seven-thirty in the morning?”

My real body—me—stood frozen in hockey gear, mouth dry.

And Lucas—wearing my face—looked like a deer about to be run over by an emotional minivan.

“We’re, uh…” I scrambled for words. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Which, in hindsight, was the dumbest thing I could’ve said.

My mom’s eyes narrowed further. “That’s usually what people say when it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Lucas tried to laugh. “We’re just—uh—working on an art project!”

“...While wearing hockey gear?”

“Performance art?”

I shot him a really look.

He elbowed me. “Go with it.”

My mom looked absolutely unconvinced.

But then, mercifully, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen, sighed, and gave me a firm look.

“We’ll talk about this later. You still have school. I’m already late for work.”

She walked out muttering, “Performance art, my foot…”

Lucas slumped in relief. “That was close.”

“No kidding,” I groaned. “One more second and she would’ve grounded me in your body.”

We looked at each other, and for the first time that morning, we laughed. Genuinely. Tired, nervous, but still.

It felt weirdly good.

After surviving my mom’s early ambush, we got through the morning with a hastily drawn-up plan:

I’d do my best to avoid Minji and survive another hockey practice.

Lucas would go to my classes, keep his head down, and NOT flirt with anyone—especially not anyone I had to see every day.

We’d meet at lunch to swap notes—literally and figuratively.

Easy, right?

Nope.

Turns out, pretending to be the ice hockey team’s captain is only slightly less dangerous than jumping into a shark tank.

“Park!” Coach Hwang’s whistle cut through the rink like a bullet. “That was slow! Again!”

I groaned inwardly and skated back to the line for another sprint. My thighs were already burning. My balance still sucked. I’d fallen twice during warmups, and Jake had given me a side-eye like he was trying to figure out if I was drunk or possessed.

Spoiler alert: Possessed.

I was starting to realize how much Lucas worked to keep up his image. Every movement on the ice was supposed to be precise, confident, calculated. But with me fumbling in his body like a lost duckling on skates, the illusion was cracking.

By the end of practice, Coach pulled me aside.

“You’re off,” he said flatly. “Is something going on?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What could I say?

“I’m actually your team captain’s inner dork trapped in his body, please don’t kick me off the team”?

Instead, I said, “Just tired. Pushing through.”

He eyed me. “We’ve got scouts coming next week. I need you sharp.”

“I’ll be ready,” I promised, even as my legs trembled.

He nodded, but I knew I hadn’t convinced him.

Meanwhile, Lucas had his own challenges.

When we met at lunch, he looked pale.

“You okay?” I whispered as he slid into the seat across from me, my sketchbook clutched in his hands like a lifeline.

“I was almost outed in Chem,” he hissed. “Mr. Lee asked a question, and I said photosympathesis.”

“You mean photosynthesis?”

“I know that now, Rae.”

I bit back a laugh.

He scowled. “Also, why is your math teacher so angry all the time?”

“Miss Yoon? She’s not angry, she just hates joy.”

Lucas rubbed his temples. “I had no idea school was this brutal. People expect you to remember things. Like daily.”

“Shocking,” I deadpanned. “Meanwhile, I almost got murdered by a hockey puck.”

He sighed. “We suck at being each other.”

“Total disaster.”

We were quiet for a second.

Then Lucas glanced at my sketchbook. “I doodled during history. Hope you don’t mind.”

I took it, flipping through the pages—and blinked.

His drawings weren’t bad. They were… actually kind of great. Quick, sure, not refined—but expressive. Confident.

“You drew this?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I used to draw a lot. Before sports took over.”

I looked at him, really looked, and realized something strange.

Lucas Park—the Ice Prince, the captain, the perfect poster boy—had layers.

And I was just beginning to see the first crack.

Unfortunately, the universe wasn’t going to let us bond in peace.

Because right as lunch ended, I saw her.

Minji. Standing by the vending machines, arms crossed, watching me.

No. Watching Lucas. Me. Whatever.

I froze.

Lucas followed my gaze. “What’s she doing?”

“Waiting. She wants a confrontation.”

“Should we avoid her?”

“No,” I said, straightening. “We need to control the narrative. I’ll talk to her.”

Lucas touched my arm—his own arm, really—and said, “Be careful.”

I nodded and walked toward her, heart pounding.

Minji didn’t say anything at first. Just handed me a can of lemon soda.

“I remember it’s your favorite,” she said, voice neutral.

“Thanks,” I said warily.

“You’re still lying.”

I sighed. “You’re relentless.”

“Because I care. And because you’re not acting like you.”

“What do you want from me?”

She stared at me for a long time. Then said, “I want to help. But I need to know what’s real.”

I looked away. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She stepped closer. “Try me.”

And in that moment, something shifted.

I almost told her. Almost everything.

But then—

A voice cut through the air.

“Hey! Park!”

It was Jake, waving me over.

“Coach wants you. Now!”

Minji’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not done.”

She walked away.

I sighed and turned toward the gym—but something caught my eye.

A girl I didn’t recognize was standing near the lockers, holding a phone.

And she was recording me.

Her screen showed me and Minji talking.

And worse—

She was sending it.

To someone named:

“📌 THE ICE RINK CHAT 💀🔥”