Chapter 6 6: Cold Blood, Hot Ice 🧊
Baby unleashed the shot—a hard, low wrister destined for the five-hole (the space between the goalie's legs).
The save was impossible. Saint kicked out his right pad—not just to stop it, but to trap the puck cleanly beneath it, dead on the ice. No rebound. No chance for a follow-up.
A sharp, audible THWACK echoed in the cold air.
Saint pushed himself up, perfectly composed. He tapped his stick on the ice once, signalling a clear save. He looked past his own defensemen, meeting Baby's furious glare. There was no smirk, only a silent, chilling superiority.
The whistle blew.
"Baby's line! That's a missed shot! Breakfast is on you!" Coach Nickel shouted, enjoying the drama.
Baby slammed his stick head on the ice, ignoring the groans from his teammates. Saint had beaten him with patience, not athleticism—a calculated, tactical victory.
Saint skated a few feet out of his crease, stopping Ricky with his glove.
"Ricky," Saint said, his voice calm. "You were slow getting back on that rush. If you're not in the slot to clear the defence, I don't trust you. You are on the second line today. Don't worry about breakfast, just run your five sprints now."
Saint had not only demoted Ricky but also physically punished him, enforcing discipline that cut deeper than money.
Baby, seething, yanked his helmet off and pointed his stick at Saint.
"That save was luck, Kross. You just got bailed out by your defence," Baby roared, trying to regain control. "Next one is going top shelf. Don't worry, teammates, I'll still buy you breakfast. Just to remind the new co-captain how we play on the winning side!"
Baby tossed his helmet back on, a red flash of anger. He was doubling down on his role as the financial benefactor and the star—using status and confidence to blow the whistle again. "Next line! Let's go!"
The confrontation was over, but the message was clear: Saint had won the first round of the power struggle by being calm, clean, and devastatingly effective.
___
"Well, it was a tie... like always," Cam said as he walked beside Baby in the hallway.
It was rush hour and students were rushing to get to their classes before either was too late.
But not Baby, he walked like he owned the school, head high and shoulders spread, his footsteps relaxed and unbothered.
Baby and Cam walked through the crowded hallway without needing to mingle their way through because everyone cleared their path as they walked, boys staring with envy while girls threw suggestive glances, wishing they could get a night with the infamous Baby Danvers.
They took a right corner and continued down the hall.
"Next time, I'm beating his ass." Baby said as they approached the door to the classroom, "I'll show him just how unworthy he is to rule beside me." His voice was filled with venom as he clenched his fingers around his phone.
Cam cleared his throat, "I know you can do that, Baby. For now... I think we have to find a way to deal with her," he pointed through the glass door at a young woman with short, black hair, and a pen fixed behind her ear.
Baby scoffed a he stared at her, "Ms. Shannon? She's not my problem." He said and pushed through the door, sauntering in like he ruled the class.
"Morning, Ms. Shannon," Cam greeted as he trailed behind Baby, his face lowered.
"Stop right there, Mr. Baby Danvers, Mr. Cameron Wells," Shannon sternly said, her sharp voice stopping the young men from forging toward their seats.
Baby sighed, "You don't have to be so coy if you want my attention, Ms. Shannon. For you... I'd give all my attention... and more," He winked, causing whistles and hooks to erupt behind him.
Cam was feeling embarrassed but he stood still, wishing the floor would open and swallow him up.
Shannon "Yes, Mr. Danvers, I do need your attention. Do well to give your utmost to Mr. Kross over there, cue him in on everything we've done for the past two weeks, and I expect him to ace every question on my quiz by next week. Please, move to your seats." She said dismissively and picked her hamster from the table to fix on her face.
Baby's flirting mood flew out of the window the instant he heard Saint's name. His eyes flew to his seat behind the class, and truly, there he sat on Cam's seat right next to his with a cocky smirk on his face.
"You've got to be kidding me. Ms. Shannon, this cannot be –"
"I agree, Ms. Shannon, that is my seat, has been for two years!" Cam was living as he stared at Saint's smug face.
Now Cam wanted to beat the guy to a pulp on behalf of his best friend.
"Sit right behind them, Cameron. Anyone who has a different opinion can step outside and never step foot in my class," she said without turning away from the board.
"You can't do that, Shannon," Baby walked over to her, all traces of jesting gone from his face as he stood right beside the young woman, who was calmly writing on the board.
Shannon paused, her head tilting ever so slightly, "You might want to take the matter to your coach, who will now relay ot directly to THC. How does that sound Mr. Danvers? Now, stop slowing my class and drag your red-haired friend out of my sight." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, pinning her stern gaze on them.
"You –"
"Let's go," Baby interrupted Cam, shaking his head at his best friend.
With a scowling face, he marched toward his seat behind the class, his nails digging into his hands in contained rage.
He didn't spare Saint a glance as he walked behind him to get to his seat. With a loud scrape against the floor, Baby dragged his seat out and lowered himself on it, placing his hands on the desk, his jaws working angrily.
He was starting to think that THC wasn't actually trying to see teamwork, they were planning his failure.
Perhaps Saint's patents were working with them to get him disqualified by setting him up with the person he despised. They knew what they were doing, they knew he would fail.
He could feel his patience thin with each passing second, and so help him god, he hoped he didn't lose it in public.
Saint's eyes never left Baby from the moment he stepped into the class, and as he sat by his side, he found himself leaning toward his seatmate with a slow smirk playing on his lips.
"We meet again, Baby," Saint's voice ran deeper than the ocean's depths, his breath deliberately fanning the side of Baby's chin.