The world was a tornado Flynn found herself caught in the center of. Her heart thundered in her ears as she soared across ice, body twisting as she transitioned into Biellman spins. The brunette hadn't even released her leg, the long limb extending up the line of her spine, before she heard applause.

She dropped her leg with a lurch, rotating to find Dakota sandwiched between Jamie and Kaia, both wearing equally amazed grins.

"Sorry we stopped you," Dakota chirped as Flynn skated over to the gate. "These weirdos came in while you were practicing your free skate."

"No worries," she shook her head, breathless as she eyed her new friends. "Why are you guys here though?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were still available for the game tomorrow," Kaia answered, hands shoved in her pockets. "And Jamie wanted to see you skate."

"Hey, don't expose me like that!" Jamie gawked with an open jaw. His expression softened as his eyes landed back on Flynn, a smile spreading over pink lips. "It's true, though. Had to see this shit for myself."

"So? What do you think?" She demanded through a pant, stretching her arms out to gesture at the field of white behind her. Her chest stung with what surprised her to be nerves.

"You were pretty fucking incredible, that's what I think," Jamie declared. "Those spins you were doing in the air? Jesus."

She breathed out a rugged laugh. "Yeah, that's figure skating for you. Tough work. Lot harder than a simple game of 'Don't Let the Ball Touch the Floor'."

The curly-haired boy straightened, shaking his head away from her as mischief lit his face. "Ah, okay. I see how it is."

"I'm just telling the truth, Jamie. I don't know why you're so hurt," Flynn feigned confusion.

"Anyway," Dakota cut in, hands now perched excitedly on the top of the wall. "You're leaving soon, right? To get ready for the dance?"

Flynn hesitated, her staggered pause enough to cause dismay blanket her friend's face. "Flynn, c'mon. You've been at it for hours."

The Wilder shook her head in dismissal, pressing a palm flat against the wall to rest. "I just wanna clean up the second half of my program."

"What's there to clean up?" Kaia asked. "I don't know much about the sport, but from what I could see, you were pretty clean out there."

"Flynn just has this problem of obsessing," Dakota waved a hand, ignoring the gaping mouth of her friend. "She'll skate herself to death, I swear."

"Not true!" Flynn protested.

"Oh yeah? What about all the bruises on those ragged ass feet and legs of yours? Are you even gonna be able to dance tonight?"

"Okay, okay," the brunette exhaled in defeat, pushing through the gate and stepping onto the hard ground with her blades. "Hint taken."

"That was not a hint, that was a call out," Dakota snickered, folding her arm around the girl's shoulders as they headed for the bleachers.

"So you guys going to the dance?" The brunette questioned Jamie and Kaia as she sat down to untie her skates, peering up at them.

"Can't. Gotta watch my siblings tonight," Kaia responded.

"I am, though," Jamie stated, watching Flynn's head shoot up again. "Me and a few of the other teammates."

"Cool," she nodded with pursed lips. "I'll see you there then."  She turned to Dakota as the pair tore off to leave. "I'll FaceTime you when I get home so we can get ready together."

Instead of a reply, she stared at her, inspecting some invisible pattern on Flynn's face. "What?" The skater demanded.

"Just wondering if you're aware that Jamie is into you," she deadpanned. "And that you're into him."

Flynn shook her head feverishly. "Nah," she grunted, sliding her skates off her cramped feet. "I don't think so."

Dakota blinked. "Oh, I know you're not trying to lie to me right now."

"Okay, fine," she huffed, slapping her socked foot on the ground. "Maybe I'm a little into him. But I don't have time for that right now," she tutted, swinging her skates over her shoulder and trudging toward the locker room.

"What, because of this?" Dakota laughed with astonishment. "Flynn, you do know it's okay to prioritize things other than skating?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm doing volleyball manager and maybe some of Miguel's karate."

"Okay, well I mean prioritizing things other than sports," Dakota halted, watching her friends tired steps. "Like having feelings."

Now it was Flynn's turn to laugh, hers coated with bitterness. "C'mon, Dakota. It's not gonna happen. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me like you always do."

The shorter girl's face grew slack with a mix of shock and hurt. "I'm just worried about you, Flynn. I don't like when you get yourself strung out this tight. You're doing too much and you're definitely spending way too much time here. You're losing it, like you always do when a comp gets close."

"I'm not losing it. You don't have to make me sound so insane, you know?" Flynn whirled around like a lash, gaze hardened with exasperation. "We've had this conversation a million times and it's always ended the same way. I'm doing what I love."

Dakota folded her arms over her torso. "You know, I'm starting to think this is way more of a weird obsession for you than actual love."

Flynn eyed her friend in astonishment, hurt by the accusation. She released a sigh through her nostrils and blinked slowly.

"You know what skating has done for me. Or at least, you should. But whatever. I'll see you at the dance. Maybe," she grumbled, spinning around again and disappearing behind the thick door.

Electronic music swamped the gym in a violent wave, Flynn stepping inside warily. Despite how comfortable her ballet flats were for her costume, she couldn't ignore the stabbing pain flaring up from the soles of her feet. Her gaze panned the sea of squirming bodies, eventually finding Demetri's tall head poking out.

"Hey," she yelled over the music as she approached, grinning as they fawned over her costume.

"Jesus Christ," Demetri swore as he observed the painstakingly accurate streaks of black and blue that swept past her eyes. "How the hell did you do all this?"

"A shit ton of practice," she answered. "I was watching YouTube tutorials for days!" She caught a glimpse of Dakota, feeling the stretch of her smile loosen.

The smaller girl danced stiffly between the balls of her feet for a moment before announcing, "I'm gonna get a drink." She floated into the crowd, her pointy witch hat soon concealed by a wall of people.

The two boys watched her disappear with puzzled looks. Flynn ignored it, inspecting Eli's costume with a small, forced smirk. "So I see you took Counselor Morrison's advice."

"What was that about?" Demetri asked, invincible to her attempted distraction.

The brunette let out a terse sigh, shaking her head. "We just had a small argument. She'll get over it."

"What happened?" He demanded.

"Same thing we always fight about," she crossed her arms around her chest. "She thinks I have an unhealthy relationship with skating. I just try to explain to her I'm doing what I'm passionate about."

The taller brunet blinked, his face shaded by his necromancer hood. "You know, you do kinda give off tortured artist vibes. No wonder you picked this costume."

Flynn tipped her jaw with sarcasm. "Ha ha. Real funny guy, aren't you?" A sudden black figure swept into her peripheral, causing the brunette to jerk back. "Jesus!"

"Hey, Flynn," the skeleton spoke, and her heart relaxed when she realized it was Miguel.

"Bro, you cannot do that! You scared the fuck out of me," she clutched the space below her neck.

"That's how you know it's a good costume," Demetri nodded approvingly at the Diaz.

"Thanks. I like your sorcerer costume."

"Sorcerer?" He scoffed. "Please, I'm a necromancer!"

"What?" Miguel muttered.

"Didn't you see the amulet?"

The skeleton boy shifted his attention to Eli. "So are you a regular doctor, or...?"

"Plastic surgeon," he answered, voice muffled by the mask worn around his face. "I...fix lips."

Flynn frowned, a pang from their earlier conversation resurfacing. She didn't have time to process her sympathy, however, as Miguel turned to her.

"And this is just...wow. Another level," he drew back to examine her outfit, a small burst of self-consciousness gripping her.

"Thanks," she smiled meekly, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. "Yeah, the uh, makeup took me forever. I messed it up so many times."

Miguel's invisible eyebrows pinched together, making his face look tighter. "Are those...contacts?"

Flynn blinked, remembering the slight itch from the red lenses in her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Have you seen the movie? Well, basically, at the end she kinda goes crazy and has these red eyes. You should watch it."

"Okay. I will," he nodded. "So where's Dakota?"

The Wilder girl's eyes trained on something else in the crowd, prodding Miguel distractedly with her knuckles. "I'll be right back," she exclaimed over a bad dubstep remix.

The Diaz boy's gaze followed her, worry creeping across his painted face. "Hey, why is she limping?" He called over his shoulder to the two boys.

Demetri did a double take of their retreating friend, his face mirroring the uncertainty sewn on Eli's. "Oh," he sighed, shaking his head. "She's fine. She's just been skating too much. If you see her trying to avoid Dakota, that's part of the reason why."

"This always happens," Eli commented, voice barely audible from behind the mask.

"What...always happens?" Miguel pressed. "What's wrong with Flynn and Dakota?"

"They're fighting because of Flynn's relationship with ice skating," Demetri explained. "Basically she goes through these periods of time where she gets really obsessed, so she overworks herself. And then Dakota usually says some exaggerated stuff to her about it that just pisses Flynn off. There's nothing you can really do but wait it out."

"They always forgive each other anyway," Eli added.

Miguel considered this, pivoting his head over his shoulder and scanning the vast space for any signs of the ballerina again.

Flynn pushed through a mass of dancing bodies, reaching the head of amber curls she'd spotted before. "Hey!"

Jamie's eyes sprang from his friends to her, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. "Hey! Didn't recognize you for a second!" The taller boy donned a Spider-man bodysuit that hugged his body in the infuriatingly right places, making Flynn swallow.

"Yeah, well, I don't always look like a crazy bitch, you know?" She offered a tight-lipped smile at the circle of people surrounding them, realizing they were all from the volleyball team. "Hey guys!"

"Black Swan, right?" Jamie asked, mouth leaning in towards her ear that she angled to hear better. The simple exchange in movement made Flynn's heart rate quicken in ways that scared and frustrated her. "That movie was fucking scary, you know? Especially the part where she ripped her nail off."

Once she got past the shock of him having seen it, Flynn nodded. "Ugh, right? Made me want to throw up. That was the only part that really got me."

"Really? Not the part where you stab your friend but then it's actually just yourself?" His eyes glowed under the dimly lit gym roof.

"Hello? Me?" She choked out a laugh. "You do know that it's just a costume, right?"

"Humor me!" He yelled, his grin making the skin under his eyes crinkle.

"Alright, sure. So does this mean you can shoot webs out of your wrists? Or are you like Tom Holland's Spider-Man instead?"

"Andrew Garfield, actually."

A pause fluttered between them, and Flynn's smile stretched to impossible lengths. "Of fucking course you'd say that."

"What? Cause I have taste?" He taunted. "Seems to me like you're a secret film buff, so are you really gonna tell me his movies suck?"

"What makes you think I'm a film buff?" She challenged.

He tilted his head back, giving her a clear view of his taut neck muscles and Adam's apple as it bobbed with a silent laugh. "Oh, so you're telling me just the Average Joe watches Black Swan and thinks of it for a Halloween costume?"

"You're annoying," she quipped, lightly punching his shoulder and ignoring the way his costume outlined his biceps. "Wanna dance?"

The two danced for a few songs, hands finding their way to each other's and intertwining fingers as they leapt around.

"Hey, who's the guy Flynn's dancing with?" Miguel inquired, spotting them near the center of the gym.

Demetri followed his gaze, snapping with realization. "Oh, that's Jamie. One of the volleyball players. They're friends now, along with her co-manager Kaia."

"Damn," Miguel huffed, head shaking as he continued to watch. "Why can't we be like that? Just ask a girl to dance?"

"What's up?" Dakota popped up, scooping into the punch bowl to refill her cup. "You guys are being losers again?"

"Miguel's trying to convince us to ask some hot girls to dance," Demetri snorted. "Like that's even possible."

"Well, don't sell yourselves short maybe," she suggested, sipping on the bright liquid. "You never know."

"Oh, I know."

The dance was almost coming to a close when Eli and Demetri dashed towards Flynn, nearly colliding with her. Both boys wore fearful expressions loaded with wild eyes and unlatched jaws.

"Hey, I've been trying to find y'all! Woah, what's wrong?" She demanded, her chest tightening with concern. "Where's Miguel?"

"That's just it," Demetri panted. "We were in the bathroom when Kyler and his goons found us. I think Miguel's still in there. I think they're fighting!"

"What?" She reeled, eyebrows rocketing up her forehead. "Are you fucking kidding me?" White hot anger clawed at her thrashing heart, the girl stomping towards the exit that led to the bathrooms. She whirled around to face her friends again, noting their stiff hesitation. "Are you guys seriously not coming?"

Eli shrugged weakly while Demetri shot her a defensive look. "We'll only get our asses beat!"

"God, whatever," she grunted, veering away and storming through the double doors without a second glance. "Fucking wimps."

Flynn heard it before she saw it, the bathroom door swinging shut behind her. The sound of fists colliding against skin. After each strike rang the familiar and painful cries of Miguel.

"Hey!" The brunette clawed open the thin metal gate separating the locker room from the bathroom, deeply horrified at the scene.

Miguel had curled up into a ball against the tile, Kyler towering over him and viciously bringing a lacrosse stick down against his flesh. The tall, dark-haired bully snapped his malicious gaze towards her, the corner of his mouth folding into a sneer. "What's this, Rhea? Had to get your bitch to come save you?"

"I'm no one's bitch," she growled, fingers wrapping around the end of a spare lacrosse stick. "Leave him the fuck alone, Kyler."

He only let out a bemused howl, his friends echoing him. "And what are you gonna do?"

"This," she answered, spearing the lacrosse stick and smashing against the bridge of Kyler's nose. The boy let out an agonized yell as there was an audible crack, his feet staggering backwards.

"Get that bitch!" He demanded, cradling his injury in a hunched position. At the cue, the other three boys lunged at her with hungry, piggish eyes.

Flynn let out a curdled shout as she balled her fist, slamming the brute of her knuckles into a boy's cheekbone. He drew back a few paces with a surprised scream, Flynn preparing herself for another quick strike.

But the other two were faster, Brucks gripping her forearm and using it to pin her against the cement wall. The brunette let out a strangled gasp of pain as the other boy punched her stomach, the iron fist impact knocking the wind out of her.

"C'mon man!" Kyler hissed, charging toward the three of them. "Harder!"

"But she's a girl—"

Flynn screamed as she brought up her right foot, ignoring the searing protest from her waist and using all her mustered strength to kick Kyler in the groin. She had forgotten the soreness in her feet from skating, a curled whimper slipping out as a pain shot up from her toes.

"Holy shit, dude!" Brucks eyed his keeled over friend, a brief stint of shock causing him to loosen his grip.

Flynn snaked her arm out of his fat fingers and elbowed his mouth, sending him spiraling back. It was no use, though, as the third boy she punched earlier had recovered.

He was less chivalrous.

A bony fist collided with the skin just between her eyebrow and nose, the force thwarting her balance and sending her ramming against the lockers before falling to the floor. Flynn could feel herself battling unconsciousness, dark circles lining her vision as she could hear faint echoes of laughing fading away.

"J-Jesus," she mumbled almost incoherently, using her trembling palms to draw herself onto all fours. "Miguel?"

Her only answer was a small, feeble groan. Flynn crawled over to his body, ignoring the throbbing from her face and stomach, as well as the flaring sensation sprouting from her foot and climbing up the entire leg.

"I got you," she murmured to his half-conscious self, not even confident he could understand her.

After several minutes and plenty of agonizing failures, she finally managed to clamber back on her own two feet. Only with Miguel's arm strung around her back, his weight fully leaning against her.

To her surprise, the bathroom door creaked open again. A middle-aged man with white-blond hair appeared inside.

"Thank God. Might giving us a hand, teach?"

The man blinked, his blue eyes warped with affliction and disappointment as they found their way to Miguel's slumped body. Flynn took notice, her eyebrows glued together. "Wait, who are you?"

"I'm his sensei."

The next hour melded into a blur for Flynn.

Sensei Lawrence took the more injured Miguel while she followed behind in her own car, trying to ignore the pain tearing at all of her limbs as she pulled into the apartment complex.

Ms. Diaz let out a caterwaul of grief, opening the door to see Miguel crumpled in his sensei's arms. Flynn swayed on her feet behind them. Miguel's mother tore away from the doorframe, getting the three of them inside and seeing to it Miguel was strewn across the couch.

"Sorry we had to meet like this, Ms. Diaz," she groaned, using an arm to cradle her hurt stomach. "I'm Flynn. A friend."

"Oh my God, look at you!" The woman brushed a frail hand against the brunette's cheek, her eyes watery with emotion. Flynn felt cold shock ripple through her from the sudden affection. "How could they have done this to you and Miguelito? Here, we'll get you cleaned up."

The older woman, whom she assumed to be Miguel's abuela, guided her to the couch beside him as he regained consciousness. Ms. Diaz turned to chew Johnny out, declaring she didn't want Miguel involved with karate anymore. He gruffly apologized before heading for the door.

"No! Cobra Kai never dies!" Miguel called after him, hooking an arm around the back of the furniture to pull himself up.

But the door had already slammed, and Johnny Lawrence was gone.

The energy in the room dampened as Ms. Diaz tended to the both of them, applying bandages and ice where needed. A warm cloth was passed around to wipe off makeup, and Flynn removed her itchy eye contacts. She explained the story to the stressed mother, casting sad eyes over at Miguel occasionally.

"I appreciate you trying to stand up for Miggy," she managed a faint smile of gratitude at her. "I'm happy he has a good friend like you, Flynn."

"Thank you, Ms. Diaz," she nodded, wincing as she adjusted her position and the ice bag splayed against her stomach. "I try to look out for my people."

"Oh, you can call me Carmen, sweetie. Now, wait here while I try to find the Advil bottle for you two."

Miguel waited until his mother shuffled into her bedroom to glance over at Flynn. Nausea overcame him as he noticed the purpling bruises on her brow and the grimace on her face. "How bad did they get you?" He asked softly.

Flynn's head twisted to him in surprise, staring at him for a spell before her expression melted into a half-smile. "Not too bad. Just my eye and my stomach."

Miguel looked up at her, slouched further down the couch. "How's your feet?"

Flynn felt the skin between her eyebrows crease. "Huh?"

"I saw you limping earlier," the Diaz explained. "Demetri told me about the fight with Dakota and how you're pushing yourself too hard."

"Oh, that," she breathed, feeling her cheeks grow hot under his stare. "Yeah, I guess they're a little sore from being in skates for too long everyday. But it's fine. I can still walk and stuff."

Miguel nodded as she met his gaze again, noticing there was a shine to them not there before. "Still. Maybe you should give yourself a break? Cut back a little?"

Flynn sighed through her nostrils, dropping her chin to study the carpet. "Maybe," she mumbled.

Miguel groaned as he dragged himself into a better sitting position, Flynn swallowing the urge to reach out and help him. "I haven't thanked you yet for trying to help me," he uttered, blinking at her. "So thank you. Seriously."

Flynn repressed a shiver as her spine felt cold, surprised by the genuine comfort and gentleness that possessed Miguel and his home. "Um, yeah. That thing I said to your mom, I meant it," she dared another glance, trying not to frown at the marks that battered his face. "You're apart of my people now."

He smiled through cracked lips stained with makeup. "Thanks."

Another beat passed until Miguel's soft smile morphed into a smirk. "You know, if it wasn't such an unfair fight, you might have given Kyler a run for his money."

Flynn laughed, the sound barking out short and rough as her injured stomach retaliated against the jerking movement. "You're the one who's been taking karate lessons. If it was just Kyler, his ass would've been grass."

"Yeah, hopefully I can convince my mom to let me keep training," he muttered, and Flynn didn't protest or judge. She knew that feeling all too well. "Would you ever consider taking a lesson or two? You clearly have a natural born talent for kicking ass."

"Aw, shit," Flynn chuckled, batting her hand at him as though she were waving the compliment away. "Maybe, I don't know. Could be fun."

"I think you should. That way, if this happens again, we'll be the ones walking away laughing."

"Well, regardless of what I do or if you continue karate," Flynn's amber eyes pressed into his. "Just know that I've got your back, okay?"

He nodded again, his smile big enough this time to show her his familiar dimples. "Got it. And the same goes for you."

"Okay," Carmen reentered the room, now brandishing a small plastic bottle of water for each of them. "Here you go. Flynn, honey, do you need a ride home?"

"Oh, no thank you. I drove here. I can make it back."

"Are you sure?"

Flynn hesitated, stunned by the woman's persistence.

It wasn't that she was a stranger to motherly affection entirely. But she did know she wasn't sure if her parents would even be home to see her when she returned tonight. "Um, yeah I'm sure. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Of course. Drive safely, please. And text Miggy when you make it home so I can know. It's probably time you get out of that costume. I know that leotard probably isn't doing you any favors."

"Definitely not," she laughed, hand rising to her gut as she felt the sharp jab. "Thank you for all your help tonight."

"Of course, anytime, hon," Carmen's dark eyes glowed with compassion.

Flynn glanced past her to Miguel, the boy already smiling. "Bye," she waved.

"Bye."