A boarder in bright yellow glides up the incline of the halfpipe, then crouches into a jump, grabbing the back of his board as he soars ten feet over the lip. His arms extend as the board reconnects with the snow, then he repeats the same maneuver on the opposite side. Over and over until the end of the run.
Beyond the tube, pipes and walls and a couple fun boxes jut out of the hill, the snow around them spray-painted bright blue to keep people from accidentally slamming into the obstacles. Everywhere I look, boarders are twisting and flipping and landing on their asses.
Heaven.
I skate to the crest of the hill. There doesn’t seem to be skiers here, but I’ve never let that stop me. A couple of younger kids are waiting their turn at the top of the big jumps, so I slide behind them.
One boy looks at my skis, then lifts his gaze, doubt clear on his face.
I scowl at him—I’d glare but it loses its effect through my goggles—and sneer at his board.
His friend wipes out on the first jump and I swallow a laugh. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?”
He rolls his eyes and hops forward to gain momentum down the hill. To his credit, he lands the jump—if you can call six inches a jump—and pumps his fist in the air.
My cue to go.
My knee is healed from the fall over Thanksgiving, but I haven’t hit any real jumps since then so I need to take the first couple slow.
Slow, Cally.
Take it easy.
I laugh. Who am I kidding?
I soar past the boys, who are camped on the side of the hill, no doubt anxious to watch a chick skier bite it on the jumps. I resist the urge to flip them off and concentrate on staying loose when I land.
By the time I reach the bottom, my adrenaline’s so jacked my heart’s practically thumping out of my chest.
“Nice air.”
I turn around. A girl my age in head-to-toe gray gives me a thumbs up. She’s already got her back foot unstrapped from her snowboard and is shuffling toward the chairlift.
I join her in line. “Thanks.”
“Not many skiers over here. Especially—”
“Girls?” I laugh, and she smiles.
“Yeah. But it’s cool.” The chair swings around and we lean back as it lifts us into the air. “I’m Amber.”
“Cally.”
“You new around here? I spend most of my time on this run and I’ve never seen you before.”
I lean over to watch a boarder do a three-sixty off the second jump. “This is my fist time. We moved here a couple weeks ago from Vermont.”
“Welcome to Colorado, Cally from Vermont.”
Something in her tone makes me question if she’s actually being nice, but when I meet her gaze, she’s smiling. I shake my head.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just...” I shake my head again. “I’m terrible at meeting new people.” I’ve already spent too much time with Brianna if I’m doubting the sincerity of every person I meet.
Another boarder sails through the air alongside us and I bounce in my seat. The chair can’t get to the top soon enough.
We slide down the ramp and turn toward the top of the run. While she clamps her boots into her board, I toss my poles against a rack and scan the terrain. I can ride the rails and table, but my body’s itching to get some serious air. If Amber thought my plain-Jane jumps were impressive, wait until she sees me flip.
She stands and brushes snow off her butt. “Ready?”
I nod at the jumps. “After you.”
“Okay, but don’t go ‘til I’m at the bottom.”
“Deal.”
She takes the first jump pretty safe—a one-eighty with her hand on the back of the board—but the next two are so high even the other boarders stop to watch.
Adrenaline pumps through me. It’s not the same as a true competition, but it’s close.
I hop over the edge and tuck low to gain speed. As my skis cross the blue spray paint marking the lip of the first jump, I push from my crouch, twisting my torso. I complete a full rotation seconds before hitting the ground and bend my knees to cushion the impact.
The next jump is already here.
I crouch again, but this time when I push off I bend my knees so my skis are vertical behind me and grab my bindings with one hand, the other straight out to keep me balanced.
I’ve barely made contact with the ground when I’m soaring up the third ramp. I push up with my legs and arch my back, keeping my legs straight as they flip over my head. Snow is replaced with blue sky, then very quickly snow again. I brace for the landing, arms extended to the sides. I come to a sharp stop next to Amber, whose mouth is hanging open.
I can’t wipe the grin off my face. “That felt good.”
“I’ll say.” She laughs and shakes her head. “We’re gonna have fun today.”
Slope Rule #6: A little confidence can go a long way.
We spend the next hour flipping and twisting and trying to one-up each other, and by the time we head into the lodge for a break I’m so happy I feel like I’m still flying through the air. We grab a couple sports drinks from a cooler and find a table.
I twist off the cap and take a long drink. “You on your school’s team?”
“Me? Nah. Too much political BS involved. Besides,” the corner of her mouth turns up in a smile, “I don’t do well following orders. What about you?”
My light mood cracks ever-so-slightly. “I was. Back home. But I missed tryouts here and the team is already set.” Tears threaten and I take another drink to hide them. I wish I didn’t care so much, but I do.
“What school are you at?”
“Monarch. In Louisville. Outside of Boulder.”
She nods. “I go to Nederland, just down the road. Our teams are joined so kids from Monarch compete with us, and because so many people want on the team, it’s all juniors and seniors. Did anyone tell you about the competition at the end of the season?”
It’s like she dangled catnip in front of me. I sit up straight. “I live for competitions.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I picked up on that. The Eldora Dash is here in March and the top skier and boarder—guy and girl—from our schools automatically get spots on the team. This is where the team practices so even though anyone can enter, it’s unofficially our race.”
I set my drink on the table. “Seriously?”
“Why would I lie?”
“Sorry, the girls I’m here with are a bit... manipulative. I guess it’s making me question people’s intentions.”
She holds her hands up, palms facing me. “No ulterior motives here. The top guy and girl are guaranteed a spot. It’s all downhill—no moguls—but if you can race like you flip, it’s pretty much yours.”
The adrenaline from earlier pumps through me. If I got on the team in the spring I could train with them all summer. I’d only miss a couple months of competing.
My phone buzzes against my chest and I dig it out of my inside jacket pocket. Fifteen missed texts, most of them from Brianna and a couple from Mike. “Uh oh, I think I’m in trouble.”
Amber leans forward to look at my screen. “Your mom?”
My heart twinges at the common assumption, but I let it slide. “Worse. The girls I’m here with.” I reply to Brianna. In the lodge. I’ll come find you. “I better go. But give me your number so we can meet up here next week. If that’s okay?”
She enters her number into my phone, sends herself a text, and hands it back to me. “It’s a date.”
“Thanks Amber. This was awesome.” I wave as I walk away, guilt weighing me down with each step. Part of me wants to tell Amber to come with me but I can’t see her getting along with the Snow Bunnies. She’s too normal.
I spot them near the fireplace looking as airbrushed as they did when we arrived. The guys’ hair is sticking all over the place—they wear helmets—but the group of them still looks like an ad for a ski resort.
“Hey, Cally!” Evan waves me over. “Where’ve you been?”
I point out the window in the direction of the terrain park. “On the jumps.”
His eyes lock on mine and his smile widens. A tiny flutter swirls in my stomach. He really is cute. “I’m sorry I missed it.”
“There’ll be plenty of chances for that.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to think about them. I meant that I plan to spend the rest of the day on the jumps, but based on his smile and the shoulder punches he gets from the guys, my comment came out dripping with innuendo. I lower my gaze, but not before I catch Mike’s tight lips and narrowed eyes. Her shoulders tense so she’s sitting ramrod straight.
What’s that about?
Evan reaches behind him and grabs a chair from the next table, swinging it around so it faces the table. “Have a seat.”
I try to catch Mike’s attention but she’s suddenly very interested in the lift ticket dangling from the zipper of her jacket pocket. If she has a thing for Evan there’s no way I’m going near him. Aside from Amber, who doesn’t go to my school, Mike’s the closest to thing I have to a friend. I move the chair a fraction away from Evan and sit.
Brianna’s talking about her ski trip to Europe. Again. “Only losers stay here on break.”
The others smirk—everyone except Mike.
Evan leans close. “Do you want a hot chocolate or something?”
My gaze drifts to the sports drink in my hand. Hot chocolate sounds amazing but I don’t want to encourage him. “Nah, I’m okay. But thanks.” I look up and the hair on the back of my neck prickles.
Brianna is watching me. “Cally, we obviously don’t mean you since you, like, moved here over break.”
Is she still talking about how rich she is? “Yeah, and I vacationed here over Thanksgiving. Talk about lame.” Her eyes narrow for a split second, picking up on my sarcasm. So she’s not a complete airhead.
Evan shifts in his chair so he’s facing me. “Where’d you ski?”
I fill them in on the vacation that was actually a business trip—leaving out all details of Blake. “So I had a month back home before we moved.”
Brianna leans back in her chair. On the surface she looks relaxed but she’s like a cheetah, waiting to pounce. “Right. The brewery.”
The conversation grinds to a halt. I’m not sure what kind of reaction she wants from me, but I’m not taking the bait. I scan their faces. “Any of you on the ski team?”
Austin stretches his arms above his head. “Competition is tough. It’s almost impossible for sophomores to make the team.”
Brianna rolls her eyes, and Mike and Kenzie imitate her. “Regardless, I’m not getting up at five AM to go skiing unless it’s at St. Moritz.”
I can’t stop my eyes from rolling into my skull. I doubt that’s the reason. The thought of her breaking a sweat or listening to anyone—especially a coach—tell her what to do is about as ludicrous as this conversation.
Brianna slaps her hand on the table. “What? You don’t like Switzerland?”
I refocus and dig my fingernails into my palm to stop the laughter bubbling in my chest. The angrier Brianna gets the funnier this whole situation seems. “I prefer Germany. You know, beer country.”
“Whatever.” Her shoulders relax and she turns away from me to whisper something to Kenzie. I’m beginning to think Snow Bunnies isn’t completely accurate. More like Snow Bitches.
Before I have time to dwell on it, the guys start challenging each other to race when they get back on the slopes.
And Mike refuses to look at me.