Frostbite

You know what sucks about being a senior? Almost nothing. Sure you've got college applications to worry about but they pretty much just take the place of homework. One essay pretty much covers it all and then you're free to do whatever you want. It's great, really. 

School let's out at three and Nico is by my side almost as soon as I step foot outside my classroom. He links his arm through mine and starts chattering away as usual. "So. The results were posted today and I got a callback. Can you believe that? I got a callback! How absurd is that?"

"Isn't that a good thing?" I ask. I mean, I don't know much about theater but I watch enough TV, I guess.

"No it's not good! It means they're considering me! They shouldn't have to consider, they should just know! I mean, I was clearly the best." He seethes.

"Conceited much?"

"Okay, Micajah, I'll let that slide because I like you." He comments with a glare. "But seriously, I'm the best person for the part." 

"Well then show them that." I shrug. "There's no use getting upset about it. You were clearly good enough to get their attention, you just need something killer to bring it home, right? Thats what Jennie and I do whenever the competition looks really good."

He taps his chin with his free hand and smiles. "You're a genius!" Nico yells, leaning up and kissing my face. "Cmon."

"Wait, where are we going?" I ask as he steers us towards the computer lab.

"You're helping me pick out a killer song for my callback, duh. It was your idea." He says as if it was obvious. 

"Okay, fine but I can only stay for an hour." I sigh. "What's your vocal range?"

"Oh, I can go as high as soprano and as low as alto, that's why I'm perfect for the part." He explains. "That's Christians vocal range and I sound exactly like him. God."

"Okay, well show them that you are Christian. Maybe do a song from the movie?"

"No! Nonono! That's like, rule number one of auditions! It's so cliche and annoying. No, I need something like Adam Lambert."

Nico sits at a computer and logs in before going to YouTube and typing in the male singers name. We go through what seems like every song the man has ever sang before he declares that his choice is the very first one we listened to. I consider being frustrated for a second before remembering that this is Nico and this is just what he does. And besides, I've got about four hours on the ice ahead of me, one of them I get to spend alone.

Wednesdays are the days that I get the rink to myself for a full hour before Jennie or Uncle Isaac show up. Jennie tutors middle schoolers in science to fulfill her service learning requirement and Uncle Isaac meets with Miss Ella to go over routines and whatnot. 

Usually I have to wait for the hockey team to finish cleaning up from their practice and for the zamboni to smooth over the ice before I'm allowed on but I don't mind much. I mean, it's not necessarily hockey players' fault that their sport sucks. I suppose they have to practice organizing their chaos as well as they can . . . 

I give Nico a ride home and head directly to the rink. I have all my gear already. I always do. Once I get there I note that the hockey team is already done and the zamboni is already on the ice, going carefully around the equipment that hasn't been picked up yet. This isn't uncommon. The rink has a tight schedule to keep.

I pull on my skates eagerly and shove on a hoodie and wait impatiently for the big machine to get off the ice. The second it's clear, I step into the rink and speed out to the middle. I skate widely and throw a few tricks as a warm up. The feeling of just stretching out feels great, though I could have just done some lunges before I got out here. I love the ice so, yeah, whatever. Solid ground can shove it.

I grin and jump, spinning in a double axel and throwing my leg out upon landing. I jump again, this time spinning in a triple axel. The landing on this one goes completely wrong though as the pick on my skate comes down on a cone, throwing me off. I regain my balance shakily but, just as I think I'm stable,  a fucking hockey stick gets in my way, causing me to fall. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell. This is why hockey is so fucking stupid. The sport literally makes it's players so fucking stupid that they can't pick up after themselves. Holy shit.

I sit on the ice for a couple seconds in shock and frustration. God dammit. I roll my wrists to make sure they're okay before dong the same with my ankles. Everything checks out and I move to stand back up but a pain throbs hard in my knee. God fucking shit in holy heaven and hell. I hate hockey so fucking much.

I try to stand again before accepting the fact that it just isn't going to happen. Great. Just great. I hear the unmistakable sound of street shoes sliding on the ice and look up. 

Benjamin. Well, this just got a whole hell of a lot better. Fuck.