“Bruce complained. “Nick, dude, why’d you have to have your birthday at the coldest time of the year?” “Don’t be an idiot.” I looked up from lacing my left skate, quickly tucking my bare fingers into my armpits in a vain attempt to thaw them enough to lace up the other skate. “If his birthday was in July, we wouldn’t exactly be celebrating with an ice-skating party, would we?” Still, he kind of had a point. It was cold. Really cold. Not that it’s ever exactly balmy in Wisconsin in December, but ...it’s usually not Siberia, either. But just my luck—a front had rolled in the night before and it was downright frigid, with a bitter wind gusting in and howling around the edges of the lake, shaking the latest snowfall off the tops of the pines. At the moment we were all still huddled around the benches and snow-covered pathways by the skating inlet, even though most of us had arrived at least ten or fifteen minutes earlier. Nobody seemed too eager to leave the relative shelter of the shoreline and hit the open ice.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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