Break The Ice Read Online Free Page A

going to tell me how I need to push through the grief and come out a better man?” I trace circles on the chair’s brown fabric with my finger. It leaves a small ring darker than the rest of the material.
    “Is that what you think you should do?” he says.
    On Gunsler’s wall of repute, I find the first degree in the crowd of awards. Psychology. No big shock there. A bell rings somewhere out in the hallway.
    “What I should do is get to history,” I say.
    He nods and shifts his weight. “You’d rather numb yourself in academics than face the reality of your situation?”
    “My situation?” I say, spitting the words out. “My mom is–” Stop, Sam. Breath. Relax. Exhale.
    “I believe we should set up a session with Dr. Ornol.”
    “A therapist? Really?”
    “Do you think it would help?”
    Another bell rings. “I don’t have time for this.” Shoving the chair backwards, I stand and storm out of the office. If he thinks I’m going to sit down with Ornol, he’s delusional.
    “Saaaam.”
    I freeze in place. Before I can turn around, the temperature drops. Vapor rises from my racing breathe. Not again. I spin around. Nothing below the waist budges and my back pops. The pain lasts less than a second. Once I see Gunsler’s face, I don’t feel anything.
    His eyes are glazed over, milky white and empty, but they stare right at me. His expression fades into nothing. “Help us.” The accent is unmistakable.
    “Who are you?” I say.
    Gunsler’s mouth opens, wider and wider until his jaw threatens to unhinge. Smoke pours out of his throat, dispersing a few inches into the room. No, not smoke. It’s a steady stream of water vapor. His lips turn blue and his entire body shakes.
    I take a step in his direction. The cold radiating off of him washes over me.
    Two icy blue fingers reach out from behind his teeth. The nails are frozen solid, small chunks of ice wedged onto the fingertips. They reach out, prying his mouth open even wider. Bones crack as the fingers push their way free.
    “Sam, are you okay?”
    My eyes don’t leave Gunsler. I blink. Once, twice, five times, too fast that I lose count.
    A hand grabs my shoulder. Warmth spreads into my body. I rub my eyes before checking behind me. Dana has a note in her hand and worry in her eyes.
    “Are you okay?” she says again.
    I glance back at Gunsler. He’s sitting at his desk, head down, filling out some paperwork, ignoring me.
    “I’m…I’m fine,” I say. “Thanks.”
    Not fine, not fine, not fine.
    I’m going crazy.
     
    “Take the derivative of that and you get…anyone?”
    I bite my tongue. Nobody knows the answer. I do, but I’m still too shaken up to even dream about answering. Fourth period. Calc. Usually by this time in the day, I’m alright. The day is halfway over, and I’m closer to getting home. If only I could shake the feeling that–
    “Sam? Any ideas?”
    “Uhh…” Focus Sam. You know this. “You start with the natural log of–”
    Each of the eight florescent lights above me goes dark. I join the other students, looking around the room in a confused, panicked, excited state. No electricity, no school.
    “Come on, guys. It’s a little power spike.”
    I had Parkins for pre-calc, too. He can’t keep control of a room to save his life.
    Lights in the hallway flicker to life.
    “See? Let’s continue.”
    All of the kids keep talking in their loud whispers. That’s the backup generator powering on. The hope is still alive.
    Static crackles from the speaker above the door. “ Is it working? I can’t tell. Go check. ” Gunsler. I guess he’s still alive, I couldn’t tell when I left his office. “ Okay. Students and teachers, it appears we’ve lost electricity. Our power company informed us that they will be working on the fix, but it might take several hours. So, please remain in your current classrooms until we direct you outside. Thank you, and sorry for the inconvenience. ”
    “Inconvenience,” a kid behind