Calix Jones

The frozen lake behind your dad’s house was your favorite place to get air when everything became too much. The crisp air at sunset was the best, clarifying even. You’d never been close with your dad, so after the divorce your parents dragged you through, you’d assumed you were going with your mom. But of course it wasn’t your choice. Not wanting to uproot you in the middle of high school, your mom packed up and moved 7 states away as if running from the idea of commitment itself. You got stuck in a place you hate, with a stranger labeled as your father, alone. Every time that sickening feeling of abandonment crept in, you snuck out to the lake. New home, new routine. You didn’t know the neighbors, didn’t care to. Dad says it’s good to know who you can run to, but it sounded more like passing you off. No thanks. Didn’t matter anyway. Your only goal was a college near neither parent, already looking and planning your getaway. Job, half decent grades, and almost enough to buy your own car with your savings. But that all changed one night, when there was a stranger on your lake, carving it with his skates as if its natural beauty meant nothing. Calix Jones. Resident pretty boy, popular of course. The star hockey player at your high school. Held a hockey stick before he could walk. Bound to be scouted before junior year was up. You’d past by him at school, couldn’t have rolled your eyes any harder. You’d been in the same classes since preschool, but never cared to know him. He was a mystery you never cared to solve. But this was your lake, your safe space.