All Chapters of Ice Between Rivals : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

“That’s not happening, Coach.”Merritt looked at me with the amused patience of someone who has decided not to take this personally. “You’re so cold, Noah. But fine — you played beautifully. That’s what matters.”I moved away from Kai’s side and settled near Miller without looking back. The rest of the session resumed around us — pairs running their sequences, the puck moving, the familiar cold of the rink doing its work — and I focused on the ice and nothing else.Then I touched my neck.My fingers found the chain’s usual place and found — nothing.I pressed my fingers to the spot again. Then moved them, searching the collarbone, the hollow of the throat, further back toward the nape of my neck.Nothing.The necklace was gone.My mother’s necklace. The one I had worn every single day since she died — the last physical thing I had that had been hers, that had touched her skin, that existed in the world as proof that she had existed in it. I had worn it so consistently that I had stopp

The principal’s office smelled like old paper and mild authority.I sat in the chair across from his desk and tried to look like someone in possession of a reasonable amount of composure.“How can I help you, Noah?”“It’s about Kai Bennett, sir.” I held my hands still in my lap. “He’s been missing for a day. His phone is off. I’m worried something has happened to him.”The principal looked at me for a moment with the particular expression of an adult encountering something they find both concerning and endearing.“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he said — and there was a small, genuine warmth in it, the kind that arrives when someone is surprised by a person’s decency. “It says something about you, that you’d come here for someone else.” He leaned back slightly. “But you know how boys are. Stubborn. He likely left without asking permission, which means he’s in trouble — because Coach Merritt wouldn’t have authorised a day off for anyone right now.” He reached for his phone. “Let me ca

I walked into class feeling lighter than I had in weeks.Ken arrived at my seat with the punctuality of someone who has decided this is simply where he sits now, extending himself into the chair beside me with the ease of long habit.“You look happy,” he said. “Relaxed. Did you sleep well?”I looked at him. “You’ve made it a personal project to monitor my moods, haven’t you?”He smiled without apology. “I just notice things. You look really happy, Noah. It’s worth noting.”I turned to face the board and let the observation go unaddressed.The lesson began. I followed it with the easy, present attention of someone whose mind is not currently staging a competing argument somewhere in the background. The teacher’s voice, the board, the familiar structure of a class — uncomplicated, manageable.Then something tapped my shoulder from behind.I turned. A folded paper, passed through two sets of hands, arrived in mine. I looked at it. Looked up. Unfolded it.I’m hungry. What are we eating to

I pinned the exam timetable to the wall with the focused energy of someone who has assessed a situation and decided the only way through it is preparation.“Are you actually serious right now?” Kai’s voice came from his bed, where he was lying with the unhurried ease of someone who has not yet allowed the timetable to become a personal problem.“Completely serious.” I stepped back and looked at it. “If we fail we don’t play. It’s that simple. The nationals qualification requires graduation — we knew this.”He stared at the ceiling. “Oh God.”“Can you teach me?” He sat up. “For the remaining days — just go through everything with me?”I looked at him. “What do I get out of it?”He stood. “Since you want to negotiate so badly—” He crossed to his wardrobe with the purposeful movement of someone who has been waiting for a specific moment. “I have something for you.”He turned around holding a box. Wrapped carefully, covered well, the deliberate effort of someone who wanted it to look righ

I sat at my exam desk and stared at the paper in front of me without seeing it properly.Yesterday had passed entirely without Noah. He had moved through the room, through meals, through the corridor with the focused invisibility of someone who has decided not to be available, and I had let it happen because I had pushed him off a bed for no reason I was prepared to explain and I deserved whatever distance he needed.I missed him. That was the simple, inconvenient fact of it. He was sitting somewhere behind me right now and I could feel the specific quality of his absence — the way a room feels different when someone you’ve gotten used to is turned away from you.Focus, I told myself. Pass this paper. The rest can wait.The questions weren’t hard. We had spent hours on this material — his voice, patient and thorough, going through each topic with the care of someone who actually wanted me to understand rather than just remember. The studying had worked. I moved through the first half