When The Ice Melts

Away Game

The emergency bell rang through the corridors with a sharp clang, abrupt enough to slice through the morning haze that clung to the school grounds like dew.

And murmurs of confusion swept across classrooms, hallways, and the open-air assembly block as students glanced at one another, unsure of what was going on.

"What now?" someone muttered.

In Room B12, where the art class had been sketching color palettes for a new mural project, brushes paused mid-stroke.

Tracy’s head lifted slowly from her sketchpad, her brows furrowing. Her heart had already been uneasy that morning infact since yesterday, but now the unexpected bell added to her inner turbulence.

Within minutes, students poured into the assembly hall, murmuring among themselves, the sound rising into a steady hum that filled the space like a restless tide.

The hall itself was vast and airy, with rows of white plastic chairs and a stage at the far end, where a mic and a wooden podium stood solemnly.

Tracy walked in quietly, her small sketchbook still clutched in her hand.

She moved toward the back corner, her usual spot, her eyes cast downward, trying to block out the buzzing of louder voices and curious glances.

She hated crowds. It made her feel like she was being watched, even when no one really was.

Moments later, the principal entered. The murmuring died down immediately as students stood up respectfully, the noise falling away like sand through fingers. Principal Mrs. Kathy was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, neat curls, and a tone that left no room for argument.

She stepped up to the podium and gave the crowd a long look, nodding once before speaking.

"Good afternoon, students."

"Good afternoon, ma," the chorus came in unison.

"I know you’re wondering why you've all been summoned so abruptly," she began. Her voice echoed through the mic, crisp and calm.

"There’s no emergency, so you can breathe easy.

However, I do have an important announcement to make, and I need every single one of you to listen carefully."

Tracy shifted in her seat, her fingers tracing the edge of her sketchbook nervously.

Her gaze wandered around the hall, catching sight of Matt seated on the left row with some of the hockey players.

He looked as confident and loud as ever, grinning and saying something to his teammates.

But where was Anthony? Her eyes moved again, searching.

"Before I hand over to your coach," Principal Kathy continued, "let me take this opportunity to remind all students that good behavior is not just expected but demanded from everyone representing this school.

Your actions matter, inside and outside the school walls. Be respectful, be focused, and carry yourselves with the pride and discipline befitting students of this great institution."

There were a few nods here and there.

Someone clapped slowly, awkwardly, but stopped when nobody joined in.

"Now, I’ll call forward Coach Denzel, who will give you more details regarding a special announcement."

Instantly, the mood shifted.

Coach Denzel strode onto the stage like a wave of confidence.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a casual swagger and a face that belonged on a magazine cover, he wasn't just the school’s hockey coach he was the school’s collective crush.

As soon as he stepped forward, there was an unmistakable stir.

"Oh my God," a girl to Tracy's left whispered, fanning herself slightly with her folder.

"He’s even finer today. Look at that jawline."

Tracy didn’t react. She just hugged her sketchbook closer.

Coach Denzel gave a crooked smile and spoke into the mic. "Good afternoon, everyone."

The students chorused back, louder this time. "Good afternoon, Coach!"

Some of the girls giggled.

He chuckled. "I won’t take much of your time. I know everyone’s eager to get back to whatever it is you were doing. Probably not studying."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Here’s the thing," he continued. "The hockey team has been selected to play a major match against Silverglade Academy."

There were excited gasps. Silverglade was not only the school’s biggest rival — they were good. Really good.

"It’s a two-day match," Coach Denzel said, glancing over the crowd, "so that means it’s going to be an away game, and we’re staying overnight."

Whispers burst forth like fireworks. Overnight trip? That meant buses, hotel rooms, night freedom…

"But there’s more," the coach continued, raising his hand. "This time around, we’re trying something different. A club will be accompanying the team on this trip. Not just for moral support, but as part of a new school collaboration project. The selected club will observe, document, and create a presentation based on the experience."

Now, the murmuring grew louder.

"What club?"

"Please let it be the dance club."

"Or drama! We’re more fun."

Everyone leaned in, waiting.

Coach Denzel cleared his throat and smiled mischievously. "After much consideration by the board, it has been decided… that the Art Club will be going with us."

Silence. And then loud murmurings

" What?!" The actual fuc*

"That's going to be so boring!"

"Why them?! They’ll just be sketching trees and people the whole time."

Boos mixed with groans followed. The drama club members looked personally insulted.

Tracy blinked, her lips parting slightly.

The Art Club?

She swallowed, feeling the sting of attention even when it wasn’t directly on her.

Her hands tightened around her sketchbook. Why now? Why her club? Her stomach twisted.

Her world was quiet most of the time. Quiet was good. Calm was safe.

But this? This was loud and unavoidable.

She wasn’t ready for any of it.

Coach Denzel raised his hand again.

"Now, now, calm down. I know some of you think the art club’s boring. But creativity matters. Perspective matters.

And besides… they could probably make us look cooler than we already are."

A few chuckles broke the tension. Someone called out, "Only if Tracy draws me right!"

Tracy hunched deeper in her seat. Her face flushed.

She didn’t even know who had called her name, and she didn’t want to look up to find out because it very much sounded like a particular guy on the hockey she knew too well ,her cousin.

The coach gave his final words. "So, members of the Art Club, please meet with your club leader after this assembly.

The trip is in three days. Get ready."

And with that, the crowd erupted again.

But Tracy remained still. A storm was brewing inside her.

A trip. A bus ride. Two days. With Matt. With Anthony.

Her fingers curled tightly around the sketchbook as she stared straight ahead, blinking slowly, trying not to let her thoughts scatter all at once.