Cold As Ice

Chapter two

Warning: Swearing...

Yup, that's pretty much it. If your surname is Eichelberger, please don't hate me...

____________________

When I woke up, Thomas's arms were wrapped around me. I yawned and glanced down at him (yes, he was smaller then me). "Is it morning yet?" he asked with a sleepy voice.

''Yeah.'' I said. ''You had a rough night, eh?''

''I did, didn't I?'' Thomas asked, scratching the back of his neck.

''You've had a lot of nightmares recently. Is everything alright?''

''Yeah.'' he was lying. But I didn't care. If he didn't want to share it with me, it was fine.

We walked out of bed and got to the kitchen. There were two bowls of oath meal resting on the table, next to two apples and orange juice. It was our typical breakfast when we had a hockey game. Thomas sat right next to me and ate.

My parents drove us to the arena an hour later. When we got in the changing room Thomas and I got greeted by our team mates.

''You're ready, Hyper-Tyler?'' Zachary asked.

''Of course I am!'' I said to the blond hair guy.

''What about you Tom?'' he asked.

''Yeah.'' he mumbled as he sat on the bench.

''Okay guys! Don't talk to Thomas-dear, he's in his mind thing again.'' I shouted so everybody could hear. The all laughed. Thomas was always like that when we were playing a game. He would sit on the bench, get changed and 'visualize' like he would say. I was literally the only one who could approach him. I would sit next to him and glanced down at him. He would be looking in front of him, no emotion on his face.

''Ok, boys.'' the coach said, clapping his hands to get out attention. ''Today, we're facing the Tigers.'' What an original name, I know. ''I want you guys to be focus and it's not because they're from a upper class that they're smarter. If you win, great. If you lose, I don't give a damn. If you want a coach that'll scream at you if you don't win, what are you doing in my team. We're a small team with almost no budget. But guess what. We're facing the Tigers. Have fun guys.''

Ok, ok, you guys probably think 'why is there no budget? I thought you said you lived in a middle class district.' Well, there are three arenas in the district. One that only thinks about winning, one who got the worst team ever and ours, the one that doesn't give a fuck about winning. The first arena gets a lot of money since they win a lot. The other one gets money because they want to help the players. Our team, doesn't get a big budget since we don't really ask for it. You don't join the Basking Shark for competition, you join for fun.

We all walked to the ice. We greeted the other team and trained by shooting in the net. Justin, our goalie, tried to stop the pucks that we were shooting at him. I quite enjoyed hockey. I was playing it since I was 3. My family really loves sport, especially winter sports. My little sister's playing ringette since she is 5. Thomas started playing hockey at 4. Even though he's not really living with his parents anymore, they would still pay for school and for hockey.

The reef blow in the whistle. Both of the teams stopped the training and got into positions. I was center. Thomas was playing right winger. At my left, there was Steeve and in front of me, a rich-as-fuck kid. I looked at his eyes. Blue. A pale blue and a white skin. I bet he's ginger! We both bent down, waiting for the puck. The rich-as-fuck-maybe-ginger kid looked at my last name written on the back of my jersey. Taylor. His's was something like Eichleberger. Too many letters for a surname. It's like if someone would have punch random computer keys and made a name.