All Chapters of Black Ice: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

~AARON~The digital clock on my desk blinks 11:48 PM in bright blue numbers.My small apartment is a disaster area. Financial spreadsheets cover the coffee table, my dual monitor setup casts a cold white glow across the dark room, and three empty espresso mugs sit dangerously close to my keyboard. Outside, the city skyline twinkles through the rain-streaked glass.My heart is pounding against my chest like I've just finished a three-mile sprint. My fingers tremble so hard I almost drop my phone twice trying to hit his contact.I can't wait until morning. I physically can't do it.It rings once. Twice. On the third ring, the line clicks open."Aaron?" Toby's voice comes through quiet, raspy, and immediately on edge. "Is everything okay? It's almost midnight."I lean back in my desk chair, dragging a palm down my face as a heavy breath bursts out of my chest. "You have no idea how okay everything is. Sit down, man. You need to hear this."Silence on his end. In the background, I can h

~ALAN~The locker room smells like old sweat, wet leather, and damp equipment. Loud heavy metal music plays from the speakers near the showers, and twenty guys are shouting over each other while putting on shoulder pads and wrapping their sticks with tape.I'm sitting on the bench in front of my locker, half-dressed in my compression gear, my skates untied. My body is exhausted, but my mind is completely somewhere else.I reach into my bag, grab my phone to check the time, and see a notification from the campus news app.The headline stops me dead in my tracks."ANONYMOUS BUSINESS GENIUS NOMINATED FOR NATIONAL ACADEMIC AWARD"My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I tap it.I read the opening lines, my eyes scanning the text so fast my chest goes tight."The University announced this afternoon that the anonymous student who won the annual Business Innovation Competition—and famously declined to step forward—has officially been nominated for the prestigious National Colle

~TOBY~The ice rink no longer feels like a battleground.A month ago, walking down the long concrete hallway to the varsity locker rooms made my heart race, my jaw tighten so much that my teeth hurt, and I looked at the floor to avoid seeing anyone in a yellow-and-black team warm-up jacket.Now, I push my cleaning cart past the weight room at 3:00 PM, and the double doors swing open.Marcus, the team's starting goalie, steps out into the hallway drenched in sweat, a giant white towel draped around his neck. He's huge....six-foot-two with messy dark curls and a loud, boisterous laugh that usually echoes off the rafters.Instead of walking past me, he stops right in front of my cart.I flinch out of habit, my hands instantly tightening around the metal handles.Marcus doesn't shove past. He doesn't ignore me. He gives me a wide, crooked grin and slaps his palm against the top of my cart."Toby! My man!" he booms, his voice echoing down the hall. "Tell me you're staying for the game aga

~TOBY~The cold air from the rink floor hits my face hard. I stand behind the thick plexiglass in the empty arena, my hands tucked deep into my hoodie pockets.The ice is very clean and shines under the bright lights like a big, frozen mirror. It looks scary. It is smooth, harsh, and has nothing to hold onto."You're staring at it like it's going to bite you, kid," Dave's voice rumbles from beside me.I flinch slightly, pulling my head down into my collar.Dave...Alan's father....stands beside me in a thick navy blue flannel shirt and jeans, his broad hands resting easily on top of the wooden dasher board.He has the same calm and strong presence as Alan. It is the kind of presence that makes the air in the room feel heavier and safer."I... I've never stepped on ice before, sir,"I speak quietly, my voice just above the soft noise from the refrigeration units below the stands. "I just watch Alan from the stands.""Want to give it a shot?"Dave asks calmly, turning his head to look at

~THIRD PERSON~Martha Voss was a mother of four, which meant she possessed a terrifying, almost supernatural ability to spot the things people tried desperately to hide.Over the course of forty-eight hours, while her husband teased Alan about hockey drills and her daughter dragged Toby through card games and geometry proofs, Martha watched Toby Pike.She observed how he sat at her dining room table....his shoulders hunched, neck bent, trying to take up as little space as possible, almost like he wanted to blend in with the wallpaper.She saw that he took very small portions from each dish, putting only a tiny amount of mashed potatoes on his plate, even though his green eyes showed he was very tired and hungry.When Dave offered him a second piece of chicken, Toby's body stiffened. He quickly whispered an apology, as if accepting a second helping would break an important rule that had serious consequences.When he finished, he left two bites of chicken on his plate. Martha knew why.