Chapter 12 - Shadows at the Academy
The following morning, I tried to bury the terror of the note under a mountain of routine. It was Mia’s first official day at the Apex Para-Athletics Academy—the elite regional training center that had scouted her after her regional exhibition race. For months, this had been her ultimate dream: real coaches, a specialized carbon-fiber track, and an opportunity to earn a spot on the National Junior Paralympic Roster.
The facility was breathtaking. Sunlight poured through vaulted skylights onto an immaculate indoor oval, echoing with the rhythmic *clack-clack-push* of racing chairs and the squeak of specialized athletic rubber. Mia’s eyes shone with unbridled excitement as she strapped her gloves onto her hands.
"Look at them, Mom," she whispered, pointing toward three teenage racers flying around the far curve like sleek, low-slung rockets. "They’re so fast."
"And so are you," I said, crouching beside her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Remember what we practiced. Form first, power second."
"Look who decided to roll in," a sharp voice cut across the track entrance.
I turned to see Coach Gary Strickland walking toward us, a clipboard tucked beneath his thick arm. Flanking him was a girl about Mia’s age, sitting in a custom emerald-green racing rig that looked like it cost more than my entire car. Her name was Chloe Vance—my estranged sister Brenda’s daughter, Mia’s first cousin.
Brenda strolled up right behind them, carrying an oversized designer purse and a cold, condescending smirk. "Well, isn’t this cozy? I warned the board that letting charity cases into Apex would dilute the prestige, but Gary insisted on giving everyone a 'fair shot.'"
"Mia earned her spot with her times, Brenda," I replied coldly, rising to my full height. "She doesn't need family money to buy talent."
"We'll see how far talent gets her when the pressure starts cooker," Brenda sneered, crossing her arms. "Apex only takes one junior racer to the European Invitationals. Chloe has been training with private biomechanists since she was five. Mia’s just a girl in a chair trying to run away from your mistakes."
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Mia didn't shrink back. Her hands tightened on her pushrims, her jaw setting into that fierce, immovable line I knew so well. "Save your breath for the track, Chloe," Mia said evenly. "Let's see who crosses the line first."
***
