Nico Counts the Ice — Under the bright roof lights, Nico tapped his stick on the ice: clack, clack, go. Read the full story →
Under the bright roof lights, Nico tapped his stick on the ice: clack, clack, go. He had set himself a private challenge before the next drill—skate to all six faceoff dots without stopping, one smooth trail across the city rink. The first dot flashed under his blades. The second hummed past with a cold spray. By the third, his knees wobbled, but he kept the puck close, breathing in the sharp smell of ice and rubber.
He looped wide, zipped through center, and heard the announcer above them whisper, “There goes number four.” Nico almost laughed. Someone was counting too. He cut toward the far circle, brave in a small, buzzing way, as if the whole rink had become a secret map.
Then the ceiling speaker crackled: “And now our stars are lining up.” Nico looked up. The announcer wasn’t counting dots—she was naming a sky: North Net, Center Moon, Blue-Line Comet. Every skater’s path joined his, streaking into one huge constellation. Nico reached the last dot just as his teammates swirled around him, and the ice rang clack, clack, go. Next time you see all those circles from above, can you trace Nico’s star route?
