The Thin Ice

They were all silent and uneasy, Alex noted, not just him. The coarse wind blew across Schuler’s Pond, wafting the light dust of white across the icy surface. The cattails and reeds poked through the ice and stood tall, even in this time of year when the frozen surface was at its most solid. Normally the air would be filled with the clapping of sticks on the ice and the sharp cutting of skates scraping across the hard, cold surface, along with the boisterous cacophony of jests thrown about among the boys.

Today, however, they skated and played their game silently, because of Nick’s exposed secret. In truth, many of the boys, including Alex, had hoped he wouldn’t show up to the pond today, in order to save the awkward atmosphere of yesterday’s incident. But Nick was waiting at the mouth of the trail, with his stick over his slim shoulders and his skates tied together on the shaft. His sunny brown curls that won the adoration of the girls at school hung above his brow, leaking out from under his wool cap. Many gave quiet greetings, most refusing to even meet his solemn yet hopeful glance. Truth be told, Alex thought that Nick’s expression now was no different than before. That was sad.

“Hey, buddy,” Alex had managed and even met Nick’s soft emerald eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Hello, Nick,” was the next and last kind courtesy, bestowed by Richie, a fair-haired boy with deft ability to handle the puck who was hampered by his constant state of aloof seriousness that distanced himself from the other boys.

“Freak,” Colton muttered, rebuffing Nick. Colton was a physical outlier for a boy his age, bigger and stronger and more developed than the rest. Normally, he was jovial and lively. His shoulder, clothed in several layers of heavy polyester, nearly rammed into Nick, who just managed to elude the blow.

Similar to Colton, Jesse didn’t regard Nick as the friend he had been before. “Why did you even come?” Jesse’s long sapphire hair was always oiled up and combed down to his collar, and it shined in the pale sunlight as he stormed by Nick, the snow crunching beneath his boots. Just a week ago Nick had helped Jesse – on the verge of failing chemistry – complete a nearly semester-long turnaround of his marks with the final exam to pass the class for the academic period. And before that, he was helping the lackluster student write compositions for his English class. Those deeds seemed to be forgotten, it seemed.

Most of the group witnessed it. The plan was to go see a film at the local theater, and the group gradually grew as they walked house to house in their neighborhood to collect each member. It was routine, whether it be the sweltering summer heat or blistering January winds. Everything was so close together; they had no need for transportation. It always started with Alex. He would cross the street to the beige ranch-style home with white trim that belonged to Jack, a short but feisty boy with freckles and dark eyes. From there they went two houses down to call upon Colton, then his next-door neighbor Donnie, who was annoying and had a gap-tooth but managed to stick around because he was one of only two in the group who was willing to goaltend. From there it was a way down before they came upon the handsome red-brick home of Jesse. It was then time to hit Nick’s place, and then end the roundup with Tim and Sal.

As they rounded the snowplowed corner into Nick’s, a two-story affair with blue siding, the boys were rambunctiously arguing whose fault it was for the discipline they had received from the schoolmaster earlier that week for a prank that Jesse did. They opened the garage door and instantly went quiet.

Alex was shocked still when he saw Nick sitting on the floor, propped upright on his hands, looking up to the ceiling. His stick was nearly as high, floating, as it was being wrapped in tape; his skates were levitating right next to the stick, new laces being seamlessly threaded. Nick himself was just being lifted off the ground when Jesse exploded. “Nick!”

His skates clashed to the cement in a shrill sound along with the clap of his stick and its roll of black, bristly tape. Nick grunted as he fell back to earth. His face was as white as a phantom and beaded in sweat. He looked much older, too. He quickly scrambled to his feet and went into the house.

When they left and gathered the last of their pack, it became known to all. At one point they nearly befell into a mob.

“We should go talk to him,” Jack said while he scratched a rash, angry. “Let’s go back.”

“I have a mind to,” Colton replied.

“Well, let’s go,” Jesse spat.

But it wasn’t worth it, Donnie and Tim argued. Sal nodded to this, but the tall and dark-eyed boy rarely had anything to say. They all then turned to Alex, who was distressed and trying his best to hide it.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s just go to the movies.”

Angry whispers and more confusion ensued even in the dark caverns of the theater. Alex sat silently, his eyes floating about the moving pictures but his mind stuck on Nick. After the movie, he got home as fast as his legs could take him.

Dad sat in the recliner. He wasted no time with Dad. A while ago they had watched a news feature on the telekinetics, those with the mystic abilities to control and manipulate things with their minds. The reporter interviewed a few of them before visiting a camp that attempted to convert them into normal humans.

“It is unnatural for the human to be able to access such power with their mind,” a doctor in a white coat with an accent said. “We here at Healthy Minds Hospice are trying to cure them of their disease. It would be inhumane to let them go on in this state.” In one activity, patients underwent shock therapy, among other things, whenever they moved an object with their mind. They were grotesque, wires taped all about their heads and bodies, gaunt white faces that were perpetually wet. It bothered Alex.

“… Nick is one of them,” Alex had finished. His father was silent, his eyes searching Alex’s face.

“Does it matter to you?” Dad asked. Alex went still, and he could not figure out whether the revelation bothered him or not.

“Well, Jesse says Nick isn’t even human,” Alex said, a bit uneasy. His father chuckled.

“I didn’t ask you what Jesse thought, did I? I don’t think you should be putting any consideration to what that boy thinks, didn’t he get you all in trouble not too long ago because he zip-tied all of the lockers shut except his own?”

You must find for yourself how you feel about Nick’s truth, Dad’s words echoed.

The sun was bright and cutting to the eye, reflecting brightly off the ice and snow. The boys were playing rough, nearly abusive to Nick. Colton threw elbows and heavy shoulders into Nick. Jesse slashed at Nick’s skates with his stick as though it were an ax, whenever he got close to the goal. It bothered Alex, but he found himself silent to it. Not worth the trouble. He played on, avoiding passing the puck to Nick, hoping to save him the abuse. Nick, a graceful player, managed to elude most of the contact. He began bleeding from his lip after a while and his cheek began to bruise and swell. His hat was gone. His hair stirred. His sweater was torn. He said nothing.

Alex began feeling sick. This boy he had grown up with, being beaten like a mongrel. A voice rang in his head, see the beauty in his telepathy. Who was he to turn his back on a friend for something he couldn’t control? But what would they say? Leave it be, it will work itself out. And then Colton smashed his stick into Nick’s back, sending him down to the ice in a loud crash. Earlier when Nick had been knocked down, everyone would just skate around his limp body as though he wasn’t there. But now they circled like vultures.

Alex felt himself explode, “Colt, stop it!”

The large boy was silent and looked bewildered at Alex. Some of the boys guffawed and taunted. Alex helped Nick to his skates, and he could feel the boy tremble. He looked around at all the other boys. “No more.”

“He’s a freak,” Jesse spat. Colton added, “Barely even human! How do we know he hasn’t messed with us with that mind of his?” They started towards Alex and Nick. Alex braced himself, gripping his stick hard, he felt like he would break it. Their skates slowly sliced the ice as they pushed closer.

It was when Donnie fell through the ice at the end of the pond, screaming, that they stopped. His cries cut through the air in a high-pitch wail, and the boys all scrambled to help him, pumping their legs feverishly. Jesse skated himself right into open water, joining Donnie, along with Sal and Colton. Others sprawled onto their bellies, but it wasn’t enough. The ice gave through to them as well. All of the boys fell into the pit, splashing and struggling and crying out. Alex watched in horror, and Nick was still. Alex started for them, feeling sick. He had barely made a couple of strides when it happened.

First, it was Colton. In his struggle, his arms wavering rapidly throw water and air, he was lifted out of the icy depths, like a large wet cat. Alex didn’t even know if Colton knew he was levitating. He became still. Jesse and Donnie were slowly pulled into the air, and then Jack and Sal, and then Tim. All of them were in the crisp air, shivering and floating above it all; it was like a carousel mobile of humans. They hovered towards Alex and Nick, still with shock and disbelief, eyes wide open in clueless fear, water dripping from their heavy, soaked forms. They dropped to the ice lazily. Nick was glistening in the sun, and his skin was as white as the snow on the trees. His face was lined with age.

They were all wet and frigid, breathing heavy, cold steam exhaling as if it were smoke. It was when they gathered themselves that Alex found the courage to speak. “I loved Nick before we found out about his telepathy. I won’t let it change how I feel about him. If you feel otherwise, you may leave.” Nick looked at him with moist eyes.

After a while of deep silence, it was Colton, Jesse, and Donnie that got up and left without saying a word. They crunched along the ice in their wet skates, shivering and silent in shame. Jack left after a while of gazing after them. Just Tim and Sal remained. They were collectively wordless. All that was life and youth and love and hate sat on that pond, fragile, even more than the thin ice they shivered upon. Even just a word could upset the quiet fragility and break the surface.