Page 56 of The Last Inch Of Ice
A lopsided spaceship becomes “a stealth reconnaissance drone specifically designed for sneaking snacks out of the kitchen without parents noticing.”
A brown clay blob that was supposed to be a turtle is christened “The Primordial Ooze Monster Who Only Eats Homework and Tests You Didn’t Study For.”
He invents backstories. Creates superhero origin stories. Does voices—shifting seamlessly from a booming movie trailer narrator to a cackling villain to a surfer dude to a posh British butler.
The kids are screaming with laughter, arguing over which creation is better, building on his ideas with their own increasingly wild additions.
At one point, two boys start shoving each other over whose alien design would win in a fight. Kai steps between them,his voice dropping to a low, stern tone that has both of them immediately backing down.
“We don’t fight over art,” he says simply. “We collaborate. You want to know whose alien wins? Neither. They team up to fight an even bigger threat. What’s the bigger threat? You tell me.”
The boys look at each other. “A giant space squid?”
“Exactly. Now draw me that space squid.”
Through all of it, Nazar sits in a too-small plastic chair clearly designed for children and just… watches.
He can’t take his eyes off Kai.
He watches the way that three-thousand-dollar sweater stretches across Kai’s shoulders when he crouches down to a child’s level.
Watches the elegant movements of his hands as he helps reshape a piece of clay, turning a mistake into an intentional feature.
Watches his face currently alive with focused passion instead of the careful boredom Kai usually wears like armor.
Mrs. Henderson looks like she’s witnessing a miracle. Sam is recording some of this on his phone with a grin. Even Chase has cracked a smile.
But Nazar isn’t watching them.
He’s not sure there’s anything on earth that could make him look away right now. Not a fire alarm. Not a meteorite hitting the building.
Not the entire team showing up to physically drag him away.
It’s impossible.
He wouldn’t take his eyes off Kai for a second.
And somewhere in the back of his mind Nazar realizes something that makes his chest tight:
This is who Kai really is.
And Nazar is completely fucked.
17
Chapter 17 Nazar
Two weeks after Millbrook.
The locker room is tomb-silent except for the scrape of blades on concrete and the aggressive rip of tape being torn from ankles. Someone drops a water bottle.
They lost 4-2 to Columbus. A team they should have dismantled.
Nazar can feel Kai’s anger from three stalls down—not explosive, but humming. A tightly controlled frequency that matches his own fury.
Bachman clears his throat. “Tough game. We’ll review the tape tomorrow. Get some rest.”
No one responds.
