Between the Blades

Location: Applewood, Michigan

Sarah Sweetener woke up with a jolt of joy in her chest. The kind of joy that used to come from the sound of blades carving ice and her dad’s voice calling her “Stick Bug” from across the frozen lake.

She shot up, her messy curls springing in every direction, and bounced onto her little sister Anna’s bed like it was tradition. Maybe it was.

“What time is it?” Anna groaned from under the covers, face buried beneath a thick quilt.

“Time to see if the lake’s frozen solid,” Sarah said, her breath fogging the cold window as she pressed her forehead against it. Outside, the Michigan fields shimmered under a thin layer of frost. She used her finger to write her initials in the condensation: S.S.

Anna peeked one eye out from the cocoon of warmth. “You do this every morning, Sarah. You know that, right? Maybe just take my bed since you’re obsessed with this view.”

Sarah grinned. “But then I wouldn’t get to wake you up like this, darling,” she said dramatically, diving under the blanket to tickle her sister.

Anna squealed, squirming beneath the quilt until both girls were breathless with laughter. Mornings like this made Sarah feel lighter, like maybe the world hadn’t taken everything from her.

But then, just like always, the moment settled and the quiet returned.

Outside, the sun edged up over the horizon, casting a golden wash across their snow-dusted barn. Sarah pressed her nose to the glass again and sighed. It looked like the kind of morning her dad used to love—crisp, clear, and perfect for skating.

He’d always be out on the pond before the rest of them were even awake, bundled in a patched-up parka, sharpening his skates on the back porch. Sometimes, he’d let her skip chores to join him. “Just us ice warriors,” he’d say, lifting her into the air like she weighed nothing.

Sarah never forgot those mornings.

After he passed, the pond froze like always, but it never felt the same.

She climbed off Anna’s bed and started pulling on her hoodie, jeans, and thermal socks. Her long limbs and stocky frame made her clothes feel snug in all the wrong places, and when she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror, she frowned. Her hair was wild, her arms hairy, and her thighs thicker and stronger than most boys’. Some days she felt like a girl. Other days she wasn’t so sure.

But out on the ice, none of that mattered.

Their mom’s voice called up the stairs. “Girls let’s move! This farm doesn’t run itself!”

Sarah and Anna tramped down the stairs, the floorboards creaking beneath them. Their mom stood in the kitchen with her worn flannel and hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like a warrior queen in mud-stained boots.

“Sarah, I need you to clean out the barn and feed the horses before you run off to the lake. I know you’re itching to skate, but chores come first.”

“Why is it always me?” Sarah grumbled. “Why can’t Anna help today?”

“Because I’m your mother,” she said with a raised brow. “And because you’re stronger than both of us combined.”

Sarah opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. It was true. She was bigger, stronger, louder—and not just in their house, but at school too. The other kids had never let her forget it.

They called her names. Fat sack. Sour sack. She-Hulk. She used to cry about it, until the day she gave Josh Braydon a bloody nose in fifth grade. After that, the teasing didn’t stop, but they at least said it behind her back.

Her mom had once joked, “God must’ve made you a boy and switched gears at the last second ‘cause your daddy wanted a son so bad.”

Some days, Sarah thought that wasn’t a joke at all.

She pushed open the back door, the chill kissing her face. The air smelled like cold hay and horse sweat. The barn door creaked open and Honey Drop, the old mare, lifted her head at the sound.

“Hey girl,” Sarah said, reaching out to scratch between her ears. “Bet you want your breakfast.”

She moved through the chores like a rhythm she’d memorized, even as her thoughts drifted toward the lake. Today was tryouts. Every winter, Applewood held a mixed-league hockey cup, and this year, rumor had it that teams from surrounding towns were joining.

Which meant competition.

Which meant him.

Her hands clenched tighter around the feed bucket.

She hadn’t seen Ryan Carter since last spring. After their team won the regional title, they’d celebrated in the locker room, laughing and soaked in Gatorade. Later, they kissed behind the bleachers while fireworks from the town fair lit the sky.

Then he ghosted her.

Didn’t answer her messages. Didn’t show up at the lake. Pretended she didn’t exist once school started again.

A familiar ache stirred in her chest as she tossed hay into the stall.

She wasn’t going to let him ruin hockey for her. She loved the game too much. Loved the sound of blades on ice, the wind in her face, the sharp sting of the puck on her stick. Hockey wasn’t just a sport—it was her last connection to her dad, to those early mornings on frozen lakes, to a time when she still felt whole.

She finished the chores, slung her skates over her shoulder, and walked to the lake.

The lake glittered like polished glass, rimmed with pine trees and ringed by snowbanks made by local kids with shovels. At least two dozen teens skated back and forth, warming up before Coach Walker arrived. She spotted Marcus waving from the far side and made her way over.

Then she saw him.

Ryan.

Same wild blond curls, same sharp jawline and confident stance. He skated like he was born doing it—fluid, effortless, arrogant.

Sarah stopped in her tracks. Her breath caught.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He lived across town, went to a different school, had a different life now. One that didn’t include her.

“Trying out like the rest of us,” Marcus said, suddenly beside her. “Coach opened it up this year.”

Sarah clenched her jaw. “Guess that means I get to beat him on the ice.”

She laced up her skates and stepped onto the frozen surface. The cold air bit into her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She was gliding now, in her element, faster and freer than anywhere else on earth.

And if Ryan Carter wanted to play?

Then let the games begin.