By the end of the day, the entire school has heard about the pseudo-fight and Brianna’s suspension. “Her parents really are going to kill her,” Mike says. I’m glad Bri got the punishment she deserves, but I’m too focused on talking to Ms. Simpson about my mom to worry about that now.
I knock on the open door to her classroom and she waves me in with a smile.
“Have a seat.” She gestures to the seat directly in front of her desk but instead of sitting in her chair, she settles into the desk next to me. Her eyes are bright and she’s clutching my paper like it’s something far more valuable than a sophomore English essay. “I should start by telling you that I was on the ski team in high school.”
“You?”
She gives me the side-eye, but her smile makes it clear she’s teasing. “Yeah, me. I was in high school once, too.”
I blush, feeling stupid. “Sorry. I guess I never really thought about teachers being kids.”
“It’s okay. I’m telling you this so you understand why your essay has me so worked up. Cally, I’ve never met a girl who can do the tricks you describe.”
I’m about to rattle off my heroes—Hannah Kearney, Devin Logan—when she continues.
“I know there are professionals, but I’ve never met one in person.” She shifts in her seat. “I checked with Coach Michaels and he said you’re not on the ski team.”
Her excitement is contagious, but one mention of the ski team and my energy deflates. “I was on the team back home but I moved here too late to get on this team.”
“Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head. “My dad checked before I started classes. I’m planning to enter the Dash at the end of the season. The top finishers from here and Nederland get a guaranteed spot. If it was based on tricks and stuff I’d say yeah, I’ve got it, but it’s not.”
“Have you been practicing?”
I shrug. “Not as much as I should. I’m running but the altitude here is killer.”
She smiles. “If you don’t win, will you still try out next year?”
I cock my head. Not trying out never entered my mind. “Definitely. But if I can get on the team this school year, I can practice with them over the summer.”
She straightens my paper. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I like Ms. Simpson. It’s clear she has an agenda other than my writing prowess but she seems genuinely interested in me—she’s not faking like some teachers do.
“The reason I want to talk to you about your other three essays is I want to make sure you branch beyond skiing for your topics. It’s clear you have a passion—rightly so—but I want to hear about the other things in your life.” She pauses. “Have you given thought to what else you’ll write about?”
I knew this was coming, yet I can’t stop the anxiety that creeps through my belly, up my throat, thickening my tongue and making it almost impossible to breathe. I nod.
Concern creases her face. She rests her hand on my arm. “What is it?”
I take a shaky breath. “Actually, I need help with my other topics.”
Her brows furrow. “This sounds more serious than skiing.”
And it all spills out of me. Mom. The accident. How I miss her every day and wish with all my heart that she was still here with me and Dad. How I can’t ride on the left side of a car because—even though I never saw her after the accident—all I see is her battered body in the driver’s seat. How I’ve always gravitated toward boys because that’s what I know and suddenly I’m at war with the bitchiest girl in school when all I want is to be on the ski team and find friends who are normal.
I wipe my face with my sleeve and sniff loudly.
Ms. Simpson is quiet for a moment longer. “Wow,” she says softly. “You’re carrying a lot with you.”
I sniff again. “The best day of my life was easy. It’s the other three that terrify me. I’ve talked about Mom to lots of people, but I’ve never written about her. At least not when someone else is going to read it.”
“I think it might be good for you to try. And I don’t want you to write it with the fear that others will read it. Part of your grade is to read one of your essays to the class, so read the skiing one and the rest will stay between you and me.”
I smile, but it’s the most pitiful smile known to man. “So which essay should be about her? Worst day, most memorable, or event that changed my life?”
She doesn’t answer right away. “Let’s use the process of elimination. For which topic can you most easily think of another day?”
“I guess moving here for the event that changed my life. But that’s the last one.”
“What if I allow you to shuffle the order a bit? That will give you more time to think about the other two.”
“Really?”
She rests her hand on my arm. “I’m here to help you become a better writer and hopefully gain some introspection. The order in which you write your essays won’t change that.” She winks. “Just don’t tell the other students.”
I slump in my seat, suddenly exhausted. She’s so sympathetic that I’m tempted to tell her more about the bullying, to get her perspective on how to survive high school, but I hold back. This is about all I can handle in one day. “Thank you so much.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“Sure.”
“Save me a seat at the Dash.”
***
My energy slowly returns on the drive to Eldora. Dad’s still quiet, but I can’t tell if his anger about the notebook has faded or if he’s bottled it up so tight that he’s going to explode.
“Dad?”
His eyes move my way, then back to the road. “Yeah, sweetie?”
“Are you ever going to forgive me?”
The car jerks. “What?”
“About the notebook.”
“Cally, what are you talking about?”
“It’s my fault it was stolen. And now I’m not even friends with those girls anymore. It’s like the only reason she talked to me in the first place was to get inside our house.”
“Do you really think that?”
“She’s a total bitch, so yes.”
He laughs softly. “I meant that it’s your fault.”
“I’m the one who let her in the house.”
“Yes, but you can’t control other people’s actions.”
“But the recipe...” I trail off. Because he hasn’t talked to me I still don’t know how this is going to affect the opening.
“Cally, I’m upset it was stolen, yes. But we’ve been working on that recipe for months. Everything’s in the system, safe and sound.”
This eases my anxiety a little, but not completely. “But what if Mischief releases the same beer?”
He shrugs. “We’ll have it first. I’ve met the owner and while I don’t know him well, I get the impression he thinks highly enough of himself that he doesn’t need to rip off a competitor to succeed.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“I know you are. Just do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Stop hanging out with people who steal from us.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
Floodlights bathe Eldora, making it look like something out of a movie. A lump catches in my throat. I haven’t been night skiing since our first week here, but in Vermont we went every week. Almost every day during the height of the season.
Dad parks in the lot and carries his laptop toward the lodge while I head for lockers. Amber’s waiting inside.
“Hey, you been here long?” I find a clear spot on the wooden bench to change my boots.
She shakes her head. “Just a couple minutes.” She claps her hands together. “You ready for some real fun?”
I lift my head to raise my eyebrow at her.
“I’m taking you on the race course!”
I straighten. “Is it set up?”
“No, but I’ve seen it enough times to know the basic layout. You’re still planning to enter the Dash, right?”
I stand and adjust my gear. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Then hurry your skinny ass up and let’s go!”
I throw my glove at her face but she catches it before it hits her.
“Come on!”
We take the main lift to the top of the mountain, then skate across the ridge to the slopes on the far end of the resort. We stop in front of a smaller lodge where people are sipping hot cocoa on the deck.
“The past couple years they’ve run it on Corona or West Ridge. Spectators always complain because they’re the farthest from the main lodge, but you can’t beat the view.”
Colorado is breathtaking from ten thousand feet, but seeing it at night makes the rest of the world melt away. Stars blanket the sky as far as I can see. Darkness surrounds the resort, and even standing on top of the Rockies, I feel small, insignificant. And closer to Mom. Lights from nearby towns mark pockets of life; the largest and farthest away is Boulder.
My emotions are still all over the place from earlier and my body feels sluggish. “Where do you live?” I ask, stalling.
Amber points toward Boulder. “Just up the main road. You probably blinked on your way here and missed it.” I don’t respond and Amber nudges me. “Hey, you okay?”
I bounce on my knees. Maybe if I go through the motions my body will remember what it’s supposed to do. “It’s just been a long day.”
This time her hand stays on my arm. “It’s more than that. Is it about the party?”
The party seems like eons ago. So much has happened since then, but Mom is still at the front of my thoughts. I know I can trust Amber, but I don’t want to get into all that for the second time today. “It’s not a big deal. Oh, but Brianna got suspended today.”
“Since when do they suspend people for being a bitch?”
I point at my lip. “When you push someone and make them bleed.”
“Oh, shit.” She peers at my mouth, frowning. “That can’t feel good.”
“Eh, I’ve had worse.” I don’t mention what I was doing when my lip split open, but I can’t stop the blush that warms my cheeks.
“But other than your busted lip, you’re okay?”
“Let’s take this one a little slower.”
She drops her hand and adjusts her goggles. A smirk dances on her lips. “I’m not making any promises.” She drops over the edge and I follow close behind. We cut across the powder in an elegant game of follow the leader, Amber weaving around skiers like they’re standing still, her wide arc blazing a trail that’s easy for me to find, even under floodlights. My heart rate slows as our speed increases. I’m finally in the groove. My body reacts on its own—left foot lifting slightly off the ground when I cut right, then pressing hard when I shift to the left—as if the sound of fiberglass scraping over snow is all I needed to find my balance.
We crest a smaller hill and Amber crouches low to her board. “Oh, no you don’t.” I lower into a tuck and point my skis straight down the hill. Trees and skiers and light poles flash by in a blur—all I see is Amber up ahead. My heart flutters and I take a short breath as a sensation like runner’s high sweeps over me. Here, when I’m flying down a mountain on the edge of losing control, is where I can almost feel Mom’s arms around me.
The moment doesn’t last long enough. I want to whisper to her about Blake and the stolen notebook and how my friends back home are moving on without me, but Amber rounds a bank of trees and the chairlift comes into view. I blink away tears and tuck tighter, intent on passing Amber before we reach the bottom.
She must sense my approach because she speeds up. She crosses the invisible finish line—the chairlift booth—a length ahead of me and we spray each other with snow as we stop. She laughs as we join the line for the lift. “Man, I wasn’t sure what to expect from you. Usually you can do tricks or race, not both. But you...” she trails off, watching me.
I wipe the snow off my ski with my pole. My throat is still tight and it’s hard to talk. I shouldn’t bring this up when my emotions are all over the place, but I want to hold onto Mom as long as I can. “My mom taught me to ski as soon as I could walk. She was big time back in the day and I’ve always wanted to be like her.”
We slide forward in line and the chair swings around, scooping us high into the night air.
“You’ve never mentioned her before. Are your parents still together?”
“She died when I was eight.” It shouldn’t still hurt to say those words, but fifty feet in the air—the place she loved most—it nearly breaks my heart all over again.
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. The lump in my throat tightens.
Amber drags her hand back and forth across the safety rail. “Do you...” she takes a breath. “Do you want to take a break?”
I know that’s the last thing she wants so I appreciate the offer. I smile, but my skin feels tight, like it’s fighting being happy. “Actually, I feel her the most when I’m up here. In the air.” I wave my hand at the dark trees lining the chairlift’s path. “This is where she loved to be.”
“That’s awesome you still feel connected to her like that.”
I hold back the protests that flood to my lips. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. It’s been seven years and her death still feels raw, like a piece was ripped out of my heart. Everyone assured me it would get easier with time, but I sometimes worry I’ll never move on.
Amber twists on the narrow seat to face me. “Hey, seriously. We can go hang in the lodge.”
And then Dad will see me and wonder what’s wrong. “No, I’ll be okay. I don’t talk about her much and this is the second time in a couple hours. I just feel a little off.”
“I know the cure for that.”
I raise an eyebrow, even though she can’t actually see my eyes because of my goggles. “What’s that?”
“A race.”
“Oh, you’re on.” Nothing—not even getting all weepy-eyed over Mom—can turn off my competitiveness once a challenge has been made. I straighten, readying myself to dismount. Excitement worms through my body, shaking off my funk. I bounce on the seat.
Amber laughs. “That’s all it takes to perk you up?”
“What can I say? I’m not very complicated.”
“I like that about you.”
I smile at her as the end of the lift nears. My skis hit snow and we round the tiny chairlift house in unison. Amber drops to her butt to hook into her board, then we’re standing at the edge, our breath fogging in the air before us.
“Rules?” I ask.
She touches her gloved finger to her chin. “Don’t wipe out?”
I bark out a laugh. “I don’t plan to.”
“Then let’s go. On your mark, get set...” We ready ourselves to push off. “Go!”
I launch over the edge and feel a twinge of guilt at how quickly I pick up speed. Everyone knows skis are faster than boards—and Amber has to know that too—but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna hold back.
I follow the same route as before. The people who were on this run the last time seem to have disappeared and it’s like the mountain is here just for me. I stay in my tuck, picking up speed with each shift of my weight, everything else around me a blur. I crest a hill and catch air, soaring over the snow. I don’t consider this a real jump—not compared to what I do on the terrain park—but the rush is the same. All adrenaline and the feeling like my heart’s going to explode with happiness.
I can hear Amber’s board behind me, but she’s far enough back that I know I’ve got this. Even so, I keep my skis straight until I’m almost to the bottom, then stop in a spray of powder.
“You cheated!”
I flip up my goggles. “What? No, I—”
She throws snow at my face. “I’m kidding. You smoked my ass.”
“Did you expect anything less?”
She nods at the lift. “Ready to go again?”
We run the course a dozen more times, until my legs are wobbling and I can barely stand. So of course we do one more. We’re standing at the edge of the line for the chairlift and I lean forward, stretching the back of my legs. My knee’s on the border between total exhaustion and holy hell, what are you doing to me. “Can we call it a night? My knee’s ready to give out.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Do you have problems with it?”
I shrug. “I do jumps. I have bad knees. Comes with the territory.”
She rests her hand on my arm. “You should have told me.” Her eyes focus on mine through our goggles. “Seriously. We’re just having fun. I don’t want you to risk an injury.”
I smile. “Now you sound like my dad.”
“He cares about you. I get that.” She moves closer. “You’ve got snow all over your face.” She brushes her glove over my cheek and before I realize what’s happening she’s leaning closer and her lips are touching mine and OMG what the hell is going on? Her lips are soft and way more gentle than any boys’ but... but...
I pull back gently. Her eyes flutter open and she watches me with wary eyes. “Amber...” I don’t know what to say, but the fact that I’m not smiling probably says enough.
She backs up. “I’m sorry. I thought... I guess I... I’m so sorry.” She looks around, as if suddenly realizing there are other people around us. A few watch with curiosity, but for the most part no one’s paying us any attention. Her gaze skitters over my face, to the ground, to her hands.
I hold up a hand between us. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I was sure—omigod, I’m such an idiot.” She turns away, pushing off in the direction of the lodge.
“Amber, wait!” I hurry after her and yank on her jacket but she doesn’t slow down. There’s no easy escape when you’re on the side of a mountain, plus she can only go so fast on her board, and I match her pace. “It was a mistake. It’s not like you bombed a plane. Just forget it.”
“I totally screwed things up.”
When a friend you aren’t interested in kisses you—nah, forget it. I don’t have a rule for that!
Slope Rule #9: Make the best of a bad situation.
I can’t hold back a laugh. “Maybe if you’d slipped me some tongue, but you didn’t.”
Her jaw drops. Is she deciding she hates me?
We move in silence, my comment growing more and more awkward as the minutes tick by. Finally, she sighs. “I feel really stupid.”
“Don’t.
“I’m terrible at this. I brought Bethany to your party to help me figure out if you were interested, but she spent most of the time talking to that guy Austin and didn’t pay attention to you.”
How could she think I was interested? Blake was there and as much as I tried to hide it, it was pretty obvious I’m into him. Oh—but she left right when he got there. And since we’re not in the same school she wouldn’t know. “I’m really sorry if I sent you mixed signals. This just shows how bad I am at relationships.”
She risks a glance at me. “Why do you say that?”
I hesitate. Telling her about Blake when she’s already upset is a total dick move.
She stops, and I pause next to her. “Cally, just tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s this guy. The one who was at the door when you were leaving.”
“Blake?”
“You know him?”
“Sure, he and Luke are always falling all over their asses on the terrain park.”
I laugh. “That sounds about right.”
“So you like him?”
“There’s a little more to it than that, but...”
“Are you in love with him?”
Am I? It seems like a heart can’t break as badly as mine did if I was just in like with someone. I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“But something’s going on?” Her face is unreadable.
I don’t want to hurt her more than I already have. It must’ve taken a lot of guts to kiss me—even more than kissing a guy—but she knows Blake better than any other girl I’ve met and maybe she can help me figure him out. So I tell her our long, drawn-out saga. I conclude with “We’re going on our first real date this Friday, but I worry that whatever issues he hasn’t told me about are going to get in the way.”
She sinks to the ground. “Wow.”
“Sorry to dump all that on you.” I pop out of my skis and sit next to her.
She digs her fingers into the snow, flicking it into the air. “Blake’s a cool guy but he’s definitely got a hangup about money. I’ve never understood it, but our schools are different. We don’t have the ‘rich bitches’, as he calls them.”
Is that what he thinks I am? A rich bitch?
“It sucks that he treated you the way he did. If it seems like he’s opening up, I’d say go for it, but you tell me if he pulls that crap again and I’ll take out his kneecaps.”
I burst out laughing. The rush of endorphins feels good after having my emotions on full throttle all day. “Please don’t hurt his kneecaps.”
She rolls her eyes and smiles. “Maybe just an ankle.”
My phone dings in my pocket. I check my texts. “It’s my dad. I need to go.”
We push ourselves to our feet and continue the trek back to the lodge. We stop outside the lockers, neither of us ready to go inside. Amber fidgets with the lift ticket on her pocket, once again refusing to meet my eyes. “Are we okay?”
“Yes. I swear.”
“Will you be here Saturday?”
“As if my life depended on it. And hey, thank you for taking me through the runs tonight. I still need more practice, but I feel a lot better about the competition.”
She snorts. “You could win that tomorrow on your wobbly legs.”
“Ha, right. But I appreciate your confidence.”
“So you’re sure we’re cool?”
“Seriously. Forget it.” I lean forward and give her a quick hug. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
***
The next day is oddly calm. The halls are free of random arms and legs pushing and tripping me, and I go about my day like a normal student. “I could get used to this,” I say to Mike at lunch. We’re still sitting at the table on the other side of the cafeteria, but for the first time this week, I don’t feel the need to keep an eye on the Bunnies. Of course, that could be because Brianna’s home serving her suspension and it’s only Kenzie today.
“I doubt it’ll last. Bri puts on a good show for the teachers, but she’ll consider this the ultimate humiliation.” She lowers her voice like Darth Vader. “You will pay.”
I snort, almost choking on my water. “Awesome. Can’t wait.”
“How was skiing last night?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about Amber, but I hesitate. I’m ninety-nine percent certain I can trust Mike—at this point I’m her only friend and alienating me would really make things suck for her—but some people get all weird about homosexuality. I’d peg Mike for the “you do you” crowd, but you never know. And while I don’t tolerate homophobes, I’m a tiny bit afraid to lose my only friend.
“It was good. Amber showed me the race course so I ran that until I practically collapsed.” I rub my thighs under the table. “I used to train a lot harder than I’ve been. I’m a little worried I won’t be ready in a month.”
“Cally, I’ve seen you ski. You have nothing to worry about.”
I smile.
My good mood carries me to English, where Blake’s waiting outside the classroom. “How’s your lip?”
“See for yourself.” I stick out my lower lip. There’s a tiny cut from his tooth, but the swelling is mostly gone so it’s not noticeable.
“I think I need a closer look.”
My stomach flip-flops as he leans toward me. He doesn’t kiss me, but his face is so close I can feel his breath. Everything in me tingles and my eyes flutter closed and—
“Didn’t you two learn anything yesterday?” Ms. Simpson’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed. A smile dances on her lips.
Heat flames my cheeks and I duck my head. “Sorry.” I hustle past her into the classroom and don’t look up until I’m in my seat. I look to see if Blake’s as embarrassed as I am but he just gives me his lopsided smile.
I spend the rest of the class in a puddle on the floor.
The next day I bounce out of bed, dance through my shower, and practically float to my locker. Today’s our date! I love seeing Blake at school, but being alone with him, away from everyone else... I shudder just thinking about it.
“You’re in a good mood today.” Mike raises an eyebrow at me.
“I’m going out with Blake tonight.”
“Ooh, do tell. Where are you going?”
I pause. “I have no idea. He mentioned dinner and a movie but that’s all I know.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Sounds perfect to me.”
I dump my stuff in my locker and we’re heading down the hall when someone hits my arm and my books go flying.
Seriously?
I whirl on Brianna. “I guess you didn’t spend your day at home thinking about how to stop being a bitch.”
Brianna ignores me and glares at Mike. “So you’re a dyke now?”
She startles. “What?”
Brianna nods in my direction but doesn’t look at me.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not gay.”
She scoffs. “That’s not what I heard.”
“I think your ponytail’s pulling your brain out of your head.”
She finally faces me. “I heard from a very reliable source that you were making out with that freak snowboard chick.” She angles her head so she’s looking down her nose, daring me to challenge her.
“We weren’t making out.”
Her eyes light up. “But you don’t deny you kissed her!”
“I didn’t kiss her.”
“I have proof that you did.” Everything seems to move in slow motion. Brianna reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone. Pulls up a photo. There’s the base of the chairlift. There’s me. And there’s Amber, her lips on mine.
I straighten my shoulders. Amber’s my friend and I’m not letting Brianna trash her reputation or mine. “Like I said, I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me, but it was a misunderstanding.” I smirk. “Don’t tell me you’ve never made out with a girl. Just for fun? You know, just to see what it’s like?”
Her face turns bright red and her mouth falls open. “I would never!” Mike chokes back a laugh and Brianna points a finger at her. “Don’t even think about it.”
Woah. Looks like I hit closer to the truth than I expected. “So I guess if anyone is turning Mike gay,” I air quote that part, “it’s you. Not me.”
“I am not—I didn’t—” She stops mid-sentence, gives each of us her deadliest glare, then turns on her heel and stalks away.
Mike and I exhale at the same time.
“Did you two really kiss?”
“For like two seconds in eighth grade. She heard about older girls making out at parties for attention and wanted to try it, but she never brought it up again.” We pause at the corner that leads to her class. “Are things okay with you and Amber?”
“Yeah. She was super embarrassed but I’m not freaking out over it.”
“That’s cool of you.”
“You’re just saying that because I helped you escape the Bunny cult.”
She laughs and gives me a quick hug. “Yes, yes I am.”
The warning bell rings and we head our separate ways. The butterflies kick into full force as I enter English.
T minus six hours until the date.