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ICE QUEEN BLOG POST #5

Who. Are. You?

Hey there, puck bunnies! Ice Queen here, your go-to gal for the coolest takes on all things Barracudas.

Well, well, well…it seems Gerard Gunnarson is quite the smitten boy. Numerous sources have informed me that he was seen tailing a man of mystery last night.

I mean, can you believe it? Gerard, the epitome of heterosexuality, the dude every girl wants to date and every guy wants to be, is suddenly batting for the other team? Or wait—maybe he’s playing forbothteams?

Regardless, Gerard has always been the ultimate ladies’ man. He’s the guy who walks into a party with a swarm of girls hanging on his every word, laughing at his jokes and twirling their hair. And Gerard? He eats it up, flirting back and flashing that megawatt smile of his that melts panties.

So, what is it about this mystery man who has Gerard literally tripping over himself to get his attention? Is it his looks? Hischarm? His intellect? Or is there something else, something deeper, that Gerard sees in him?

Gerard could have any girl he wants. He doesn’t need to chase anyone. So, if he is…for a boy, then this is a big deal. No, scratch that. It’s ahugedeal.

So, to all my loyal puck bunnies out there, I need you to be my little gossip hounds. Let me know if you see Gerard talking to someone new in the library or walking across campus with someone he usually doesn’t do that with. No matter how small or insignificant a detail may seem, it could be precisely what I need to crack the case wide open.

Whoever this mystery man is, he won’t reveal himself. He’ll stay hidden in the shadows, basking in the glow of Gerard’s attention. I know I’d do the same if I were in his shoes. But know this, Mystery Man—enjoy your time with Gerard while you can. Because sooner or later, Iwillfind out your identity.

Until next time.

Ice Queen skating off!

17

ELLIOT

Have you ever had that feeling of waking up and knowing someone else is in the room with you, but you’re too freaked out to open your eyes and check? That’s me right now.

I’m pretty sure it’s the person who followed me all over campus last night after I left the Hockey House. Like, come on, did they think they could tiptoe through the dead leaves without making a sound?

I really should get up, though. The warm sensation on my face tells me the sun is up. And if the sun’s shining, the librarian working the opening shift will be here soon. And Icannotbe found here.

The problem is I don’t want to wake up and confront whoever has invaded my space. Because I know that the second I find out who’s here, there’s no going back to blissful ignorance.

Opening my eyes, I jerk my head up off the book I’d been using as a pillow and wince when my neck cracks from the sudden movement. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes and the cobwebs from my brain.

Scanning my surroundings, I breathe out a sigh of relief when I realize I’m alone. No shadowy figures lurking behind the stacks,no ominous footsteps coming up the stairwell. Just me, the books, and the gentle hum of the lights.

It doesn’t take long for me to gather up my meager belongings. All I have with me is a new backpack—courtesy of Jackson since my last one died—some clothes and a few dog-eared paperbacks. I keep the rest of my stuff in a storage unit off campus. It’s not cheap, but that’s part of the reason why I work as many shifts as my boss will let me.

I make my way down the five flights to the lobby, feeling like a hundred bucks—at least, that’s what I try to tell myself. I’ve become a master at stealth sleeping since I started working here during freshman year.

It’s not like I’ve had much of a choice. When I received the scholarship to attend BSU, I knew I couldn’t afford to live in the dorms. And there was no way in hell I was going to ask my mom for help when we were already struggling to stay afloat. So, I did what any resourceful, broke college student would do—I found a place to crash for free.

The library has been my home away from home, and while it’s not the most comfortable place to sleep, it beats the alternative of sleeping outside on a bench and facing the elements. But it’s not all rainbows and unicorns.

If I’m not working the closing shift, I have to wait for whoever is to leave, then linger around until campus security does one last check. Only after they’re gone can I sneak in and hunker down until morning.

I’m not ashamed of my situation. I’m doing what I have to do to survive. But if anyone finds out, they’ll see me differently. I’ll become the poor kid who can’t afford a place to live. And I don’t want that. I don’t want their pity or their charity.

I also don’t want to get expelled.

So, I keep my mouth shut and my head down. I do my job, go to class, and crash at the library. It’s not a glamorous life, but it’s mine.

A wave of relief crashes over me as I step into the lobby. Imade it through another night undetected. I’m about to head out the door when I hear snoring coming from behind the circulation desk.

I freeze. Someoneishere.