"For god's sake. Stupid thing. Why won't you fit?!"
Aura muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She tugged at the waistband of her soccer shorts, trying to hitch them higher over her hips, but they drooped awkwardly despite her efforts. With a frustrated huff, she rolled her eyes and yanked them off, tossing them onto the growing pile of discarded clothes at her feet.
Aura managed to snag her way onto the girls soccer team. Despite her secret wish for an injury, she got exactly that when one of the girls broke her ankle during practice, Aura was first called up for a replacement.
Dropping into a crouch, she rummaged through her overflowing laundry basket, pulling out another pair—then another—and trying each one on. The result was always the same: too loose, too baggy, hanging limply like she was borrowing someone else's gear.
A soft groan escaped her as she flopped backwards onto her bed, sprawled across the mattress, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. A swirl of thoughts buzzed in her mind, but she was too drained to chase them. The door creaked open suddenly, and her head lolled to the side just in time to catch Jackson and Harper strolling in after school, mid-argument.
"I want Chinese!" Jackson barked as he kicked his shoes off toward the corner of the room.
"Well, I want Indian. You got to pick last time, so shut up." Harper snapped, dropping her cheer bag with a thud and pulling her sweatshirt over her head.
"Why do you always get to pick? That's not fair!"
"It's called balance, idiot!"
Their bickering was loud and familiar, but Aura barely reacted. Harper glanced over at her younger sister, instantly noting her stillness and the cluttered pile of clothes surrounding her.
"What's wrong, Aura?" Harper asked gently, walking closer.
"Nothing." Aura mumbled, sitting up slowly. "Just... my kit doesn't fit me anymore."
Jackson raised an eyebrow from where he was leaning near the bathroom doorway, glancing over at the sportswear strewn across the floor. Harper gave a small laugh, tossing her letterman jacket onto her bed.
"Gained weight? That's normal after the holidays. We all probably packed on a few Christmas pounds."
Aura shook her head. "Nope. I've lost it."
"Oh?" Harper paused, blinking. "Well, that's probably 'cause of all the sports you're doing, right? Totally normal. Just ask Coach for a smaller size."
Jackson, who had heard Aura vomiting in the bathroom at Thanksgiving, stiffened slightly. Her defensiveness back then hadn't sat right with him—and this, he realized, just added more weight to the unease he already felt.
Harper began changing into comfier clothes while Jackson disappeared into the bathroom. Aura stood up and walked over to her dresser, pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and slipping them on, followed by a loose sweater over her gym tank.
"This'll have to do." she muttered. "I'm heading to practice."
"What about dinner?" Harper asked, still tangled in her hoodie.
"I don't know. You two can fight it out. Just get something decent." Aura chuckled softly, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before slipping out the door.
Downstairs, the living room was filled with quiet chatter. Cody was lounging on the sofa, Millie's legs draped lazily across his lap. They looked up as Aura passed by.
"Hey, Aura. You doing okay? Where you off to?" Millie asked, her smile warm but observant.
"Hey Millie." Aura replied, flashing a quick smile. "Just heading to soccer. I'm good. See ya."
As she slipped out the front door, Millie turned her head and looked at Cody with a frown.
"Don't you think she looks a little... skinny?"
Cody looked puzzled. "Skinny?"
"Yeah, Cody. Like, a lot skinnier than usual."
At practice, the winter air bit at Aura's skin as she dropped her gym bag by the sidelines and jogged over to the other girls, who were huddled in small groups. The cold didn't seem to bother them as much as the murmurs of curiosity and concern.
"Hey, girl. You okay? You look kind of tired." one of the girls asked, squinting at her.
"Do I?" Aura gave a light laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I feel fine."
The group exchanged glances, eyebrows raising slightly, before their attention shifted to the coach—who stood at the front with her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets. The whistle around her neck glinted under the field lights.
"Alright, ladies! Listen up!" she called out, her voice crisp against the winter breeze. "Before we begin, I've got an announcement. Your captain, Beth, is out for the season—nasty injury, poor girl. But don't worry, I've brought someone special back. Some of you might recognize her. Honestly, she's probably the best athlete Glenwood's ever had. Girls, say hello to your new captain—Leah Picketts!"
Gasps rippled through the team as a tall figure strode confidently across the field. Leah was striking—her presence commanding attention as if the field itself bowed under her footsteps. Clad in the school's navy blue kit from head to toe, she looked every bit the champion she claimed to be.
"Hey girls." Leah said, her voice smooth and self-assured. "Nice to be back. I see some new faces here—so, a quick intro. I used to captain this team, but I got scouted for an elite sports camp out of town. I completed it and now? I'm back, better than ever. Ready to bring this team back to a winning streak. Never lost a game, by the way. Go Tigers!"
Aura stared, captivated. Leah was everything she strived to be—bold, skilled, admired. The way she carried herself, like she owned the entire field, was magnetic. Aura didn't realize how long she'd been watching until Leah appeared in front of her, snapping her fingers with a smirk.
"Hey, space cadet!" Leah teased. "Earth to...?"
Aura jumped slightly, blinking. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I wasn't, like—staring, I just—"
Leah laughed. "Relax. I'm Leah."
"I'm Aura. Aura Baldwin. I'm new—joined recently."
"Well, Aura Baldwin, how're you finding the team?"
"I love it. Heard good things. I really like winning."
Leah grinned. "Same here. You play anything else?"
"Everything." Aura replied with quiet pride. "I'm pretty good."
"Oh yeah? I've never lost, so you'll have to go up against me sometime."
Aura chuckled awkwardly as Leah gave her a playful nudge before striding off toward the others. Still a little flustered, Aura walked over to Coach and tapped her lightly on the arm.
"Hey Coach—can I ask something?"
"Make it quick, Aura. What's up?"
"Could I get a new uniform?"
"Why? What's wrong with your current one?"
"It's too big..."
Coach raised an eyebrow. "Too big? It fit just fine a few weeks ago. Lost some weight or something?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
Coach gave her a once-over, her gaze lingering just a second too long before she nodded. "Alright, I'll put another order in."
"Thanks."
Aura turned back toward the field, her breath clouding in the air as she joined the others. But deep down, something twisted inside her—a silent echo of the words she hadn't said.
The sky was a blanket of grey as the Glenwood High girls' soccer team spread out across the practice field. The winter air was sharp and biting, nipping at exposed skin and turning breath into steam. The field had been marked out for a scrimmage, and today's drill was simple: a full-speed, high-intensity internal match — red vs. blue.
Aura tightened the laces of her cleats as she stood on the edge of the pitch, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet to keep warm. Her grey sweats were gone, replaced by the freshly ordered smaller kit that now clung to her more tightly than she would've liked. She tugged at the waistband for the hundredth time, pretending it wasn't digging into her hipbones. Her teammates called out around her, laughing, shouting strategies, hyping each other up — but her eyes were fixed on one figure across the field.
Leah Picketts.
Confident. Commanding. Effortlessly strong.
Aura watched as Leah jogged across the field, the captain's armband snug around her bicep, her ponytail swinging like a war flag. Leah was all fire and presence, leading warm-ups like she'd never left, barking encouragements that somehow didn't sound bossy coming from her lips.
Aura's heart raced — and not from excitement.
"All right!" Coach barked, clapping her hands. "Two teams, thirty minutes. Let's see who's been slacking and who's been working. Play clean, play hard."
Aura nodded, swallowing the tight knot forming in her throat. She took her position as forward on the red team. Leah, of course, stood at midfield for the blue team — the general in her rightful place.
The whistle blew.
From the first touch, the game was fast. Aggressive. Leah took control instantly, slicing through the midfield with deadly precision. Aura ran hard, pressing, tackling, weaving between defenders. She scored a clean goal ten minutes in — but the celebration was brief. Her chest burned like fire, and her legs felt heavier than usual. Still, she pushed on.
She couldn't look weak. Not in front of Leah. Not in front of Coach.
Another pass. Another sprint. Aura intercepted, dribbled, spun out of a defender's reach — but her vision swam slightly. She blinked fast and shook her head. The cold air didn't feel cold anymore. Her skin was clammy.
"You good?" a teammate called out.
Aura nodded, giving a weak thumbs-up.
Then Leah was in front of her again. The two locked eyes — and for a moment, Aura felt an overwhelming wave of dizziness crash through her. She charged forward anyway, colliding into Leah as they fought for possession. Leah won.
Aura stumbled back, disoriented.
"Come on, Baldwin." Leah called with a grin. "That all you got?"
Aura tried to laugh but it came out thin and forced. She chased the ball again, legs trembling, vision blurry at the edges. The sidelines felt a hundred miles away.
Then everything tilted.
She slowed mid-run, gripping her knees. Her lungs weren't catching up. A sharp ringing filled her ears.
"Aura?" someone shouted.
And then she dropped to her knees.
Everything dulled around her — the shouts, the crunch of cleats, the whistle blowing furiously. Aura heard her name again, but it sounded far away, like underwater. She blinked slowly as the sky spun above her, cold grass pressing against her palms.
Coach knelt in front of her a second later, grabbing her shoulders.
"Aura? Hey, look at me. What's going on?"
"I-I don't know.." she whispered, voice trembling. "I just... I feel dizzy."
Coach studied her closely — her pale skin, the dark shadows under her eyes, the slight tremor in her fingers.
"All right, you're done for today." she said firmly. "Carly, help her to the bench. Get her some water."
Leah hovered nearby, eyebrows furrowed, her usual smugness gone. She looked at Aura differently now — not like a rival, but like someone trying to figure out a puzzle.
Aura didn't meet anyone's gaze. She just kept her eyes down as she was helped off the field, feeling the weight of stares on her back. She hated how her legs wobbled beneath her. She hated how her hands shook when Carly handed her the water bottle.
But mostly, she hated how Coach looked at her — not angry, not disappointed.
Worried.
The rest of practice carried on, but Aura barely noticed. Her vision had cleared, but the heaviness in her limbs remained like a warning — a whisper that something was not right. She sat quietly on the bench, clutching the water bottle Coach had forced into her hands, though she hadn't taken more than a few sips.
The girls eventually filtered off the field, voices buzzing with energy and post-game adrenaline. A few cast glances her way — curious, concerned, or maybe just confused. Aura kept her gaze on the ground, tapping her cleats together, pretending she didn't feel like she was unraveling at the seams.
"Hey."
She looked up.
Leah stood a few feet in front of her, arms folded across her chest. She wasn't smirking this time. Her expression was unreadable — guarded, but not unkind.
"You scared the crap out of everybody." Leah said, walking over and sitting beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. "You alright?"
Aura forced a small laugh. "Yeah. Just... dizzy. Maybe didn't eat enough today."
Leah tilted her head. "You sure? 'Cause that wasn't just a little dizzy. You were pale as hell. I thought you were gonna pass out in my arms for a second there."
Aura gave a weak smile and shook her head. "That would've been dramatic."
"You okay now?"
Aura hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just embarrassed, mostly."
Leah leaned back, resting her hands on the bench behind her. Her eyes scanned the field like she was still analyzing plays, but her voice softened.
"You were keeping up with me pretty well before all that happened," she said, a hint of admiration cutting through her usual cocky tone. "You've got speed. Good instincts. Coach wasn't lying when she said you're one to watch."
Aura blinked, surprised. "Thanks. That... means a lot coming from you."
Leah glanced at her, lips twitching into a lopsided grin. "Don't let it go to your head, Baldwin. I still plan on outplaying you."
Aura let out a genuine laugh, then winced slightly as the dizziness flickered again. Leah caught it — the way Aura's face tightened, how her hand subtly gripped the edge of the bench.
"You been feeling like this a lot lately?" Leah asked suddenly, her tone shifting — gentler, more serious.
Aura froze. "What do you mean? I'm fine. Really."
Leah didn't push. But she didn't pretend to believe her either. She looked down at her hands for a second, then back up at Aura.
"Look." she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I know what pressure looks like. I've seen it in mirrors and teammates and girls trying to prove something to people who don't even show up for them."
Aura swallowed hard, eyes stinging.
"If you need someone who gets it..." Leah continued, her gaze steady, "I'm around. You don't have to pretend with me."
Aura nodded slowly, her voice caught somewhere between gratitude and fear. "Okay."
Leah stood, brushing dirt from her leggings. "Rest up. You've got game — I'd hate to beat you when you're not at your best."
She walked off without waiting for a response, tossing a wave over her shoulder.
Aura sat there in silence, Leah's words looping through her mind like a song she didn't know she needed to hear. She stared at the water bottle in her hand for a long moment.
Then, quietly, she took a sip.