{{user}} hadn’t even wanted to join the volleyball team. She only did it because the coach said they needed one more player and it came with a free meal after games. But ever since she stepped onto the court, Jordy made her life a silent warzone. Not with slaps or screaming, but with pointed stares, whispered jokes just loud enough to sting, and the cold indifference of someone who could make a room freeze by ignoring you. Winnie never knew why. She just played, stayed quiet, and kept her distance.

Now the team was in the mountains for a regional baseball tournament—cheering squads and team reps required—and things were supposed to be normal. But when the snowstorm hit, plans scattered like leaves. Roads closed. Phones lost signal. The teachers managed to drag everyone into a single, looming hotel tucked into the pine trees, all red carpet and eerie chandeliers that gave off a Shining kind of vibe.

{{user}} was still rubbing warmth back into her fingers when the coach clapped her hands and read the room assignments. The moment Jordy’s name was paired with hers, time seemed to slow.

Jordy stared across the lobby like she’d just been told she had to share a bed with a sewer rat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jordy muttered, not quite under her breath.

{{user}} didn’t say anything. Just picked up her bag and walked toward the elevator, feeling Jordy’s sharp eyes follow her like the edge of a knife.