Winter break starts off the same as last weekend—Blake driving me to Eldora—except today Mike’s crammed in the backseat of the Jeep. She keeps the chit-chat light, and if it weren’t for the fact that Blake’s hand keeps drifting toward mine, I’d almost forget he’s here.
Ha, who am I kidding? I flush every time he touches me.
Fresh powder fell overnight and drifts of snow still cover the edge of the road. It’s no match for Blake’s Jeep, but it takes longer to get there than normal. When we finally arrive, Blake parks in the lot and hops out to get our skis off the roof, and Mike nudges me. “So things are going well?”
I force the smile from my face and glance at Blake. “Is it that obvious?”
“Uh, yeah. He’s got the same dopey expression as you.”
I rest my head on the seat. “This is bad.”
“It doesn’t sound bad.”
I peek at him through the window to make sure he’s not listening. “It’s good, but it’s bad. He crushed me so hard before and part of me’s scared he’s going to do it again.”
“If he does—and from the way he looks at you I don’t think he will—but if he does, I promise I’ll be the first in line to kick his ass.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“After what you went through with Brianna? I owe you way more than a little ass kicking.”
“Whose ass are we kicking?”
We both jump at Blake’s voice.
“Uh, no one,” I say.
His eyes grow serious and his chest puffs out in that way guys do. “Is it Brianna?”
“No!” Mike and I exclaim.
I reach for his arm. “Nothing else has happened. But I promise to tell you if it does.”
“Okay.” He deflates and nods at our gear. “Ready?”
Mike catches my eye, then presses her hand to her chest and flutters her eyelashes.
I burst out laughing. “Shut it.”
We’re on the slopes in ten minutes. I promise to meet Blake on the terrain park after a few runs with Mike. Normally I’d do my own thing with Amber and catch up with Mike later, but Amber’s visiting family over the break. “Are you sure I can’t get you to try a few jumps? It’s really not hard and you’re a good skier.”
We’re on the chairlift that leads to the easier runs. “Maybe. I admit these runs get a little boring.” She bites her lip. “What are you thinking?”
“Either the moguls or a black. You choose.”
“Is there a third choice?”
“You won’t run into Brianna and Kenzie there.”
She sighs. “You win.”
“I swear I’ll go easy on you.”
When we get to the top, instead of going straight down the blue, we cut across the ridge to the more challenging runs. “This one’s a black, but it’s like a baby black. The scariest part is the top.”
Mike peers over the edge. From here it looks like a straight vertical drop, and it doesn’t help that we’re the only people up here.
“If I go first, will you follow?”
She nods, lip firmly clamped between her teeth.
I glide the tip of my skis to the edge, take a final look at Mike, then let gravity do the rest. I keep my knees bent and body relaxed. Instinct and reflex carry me through the steepest part and I come to a gentle stop at the first semi-level spot.
Mike’s still hovering at the top. Her poles are planted on either side of her and she seems frozen in place. I clear my throat to shout her name but before I can, she inches over the crest. Her shriek carries all the way to me. Her form isn’t as graceful as when she’s trailing behind the Bunnies, but she doesn’t fall—and best of all—she doesn’t snowplow. When she reaches my side she flips up her goggles, a smile plastered to her face.
“I think I pissed my pants but holy crap that was amazing!”
I laugh. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to do it.”
She looks over her shoulder at the top. “I wasn’t either.”
“You ready to keep going?”
“How many more drops are there like that?”
“One more near the bottom. It kind of sneaks up on you so I’ll stop right before it.”
“I feel stupid that you know this place better than I do. Are there any runs you haven’t taken?”
I shake my head and smile.
She laughs. “Lead the way.”
We fall into a rhythm, gliding back and forth over the freshly-groomed powder. A few kids race by us and I bite back the urge to pick up the pace. I’ve already pushed Mike out of her comfort zone—getting her on a hill she’s not familiar with will have to be enough for today.
“You look like you’re plotting something,” she shouts.
I burst out laughing. “Maybe, but it’s all good.”
“There better not be a giant jump at the end of this run.”
“I promise. Just the one drop—”
A thundering crack echoes all around us and I lose my edge. It sounds like a gunshot but it’s too big, too all encompassing. I come to a hard stop as birds swoop from the trees around us, their squawks piercing the eerie silence that follows.
Mike stops next to me, eyes wide.
“What was that?”
“We need to go.” Her voice is strangely quiet. I don’t think she’s blinked since we stopped.
“Mike, what was that?”
Another boom echoes through the trees, followed by a low rumbling that shakes the ground beneath us. Snow falls from the branches, filling the air with a fine powder.
“I can’t believe—Cally, we have to go now!” She pushes off and crouches low to her skis.
I scramble to follow. “Is this—is it an avalanche?” The ground continues to shake and I quickly catch up to Mike. Determination barely covers the terror on her face as she stares straight ahead. “Is it really an avalanche?” I shout.
She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, never leaving her tuck. “I’ve never seen one, but—” she takes a quick breath “—they teach us about them in school. Big boom. Freaked out animals.” Another breath. “Ground shaking like an earthquake.”
My heart gallops in my chest. All I know of avalanches is what I’ve seen in movies or read online. The idea of the mountain turning against me fills me with a fear I haven’t felt since Mom died.
I crouch lower, pulling away from Mike. Maybe if I go faster she’ll keep up.
But she doesn’t.
I check over my shoulder. Terror has completely taken over. Her mouth is open in an ugly grimace and her upper body is locked in the same crouch she started in.
I slow so we’re side by side. “You need to loosen up. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Her knees bend as we follow a curve in the trail, but otherwise nothing on her moves.
“Mike!”
She risks a look at me. Tears slip beneath her goggles, wetting her face. “We can’t stop!”
This is a real avalanche. The kind from the news. The kind that sweeps people away, never to be heard from again.
I shake that thought away. “I know, but you can’t stay that tense. Do what I do.” I push my arms straight above my head, careful not to decapitate her with my pole.
Her arms lift as high as her shoulders, then they snap back into place.
“Now this!” I straighten my back, keeping my eyes focused ahead. The big drop is close but I’m not sure if it’s after this bend or the next. I know I can stop on a dime but I’m not sure how fast Mike can slow down. A crash while we’re trying to outrun an avalanche could be deadly.
She unlocks her shoulders and gets a little more upright.
“Good! That drop is coming up so I’m gonna slow—”
Another boom shakes the ground beneath us. Mike’s edge catches, jerking her sideways. I duck as she flips forward but her ski tip catches mine and my legs buckle beneath me. I land hard on my side but am on my feet in a heartbeat. My skis popped off and are a few feet below me, but Mike’s are a good twenty yards away.
Up the hill.
And Mike’s lying facedown in the snow, legs splayed
I rush to her side and press my hand to her shoulder. “Are you hurt?” Please don’t let anything be broken.
She groans and rolls to her side. Snow’s packed around her goggles but there isn’t any blood. “My skis.” She gropes for her feet. “They’re not here.”
I run up the slope as fast as my boots will let me. I slip twice, landing hard on my bad knee. “They popped off,” I shout back to her. “Can you get up?”
I don’t hear her answer but it doesn’t matter. Her skis are ten yards away.
Five.
The ground rumbles, knocking me to my feet.
I scramble for her skis. I grab one in each hand and throw myself down the hill toward Mike.
She’s sitting up, tears burning rivulets in the snow still sticking to her face. “Save y-yourself.”
“This isn’t a war movie and I’m not leaving you. Come on.” I maneuver her boot into the bindings, wedge the bottom of the ski against my leg, and press until it snaps into place. Then I do the same with the other foot.
She stifles a cry against my arm. “I don’t think I can do this.”
I get to my feet and pull her upright. “You have to.” She wobbles, nearly falling over, and I catch her in my arms. I bring my face close to hers. “You can do this. We just have the last drop and we’ll be at the bottom. But we have to get off this mountain.”
She nods, tears running into her mouth.
I release her arms and take a flying jump to my skis. I’m snapping the second boot into place when Mike slides past me. “I’m right behind you. Just don’t stop.”
She’s going painfully slow. Most of her weight is on one leg and she’s using her poles to keep her balance.
“You’re doing great. That next hill is the top of the drop.”
She wobbles, but catches herself with a pole. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“I’m right next to you.”
She stops.
I look up the mountain, expecting a wall of snow. It looks the same as it did when we were farther up, but that could change in an instant. “I have an idea. Here, take my poles.” I shove a pole into each of her hands, then shuffle behind her. “Put your legs closer together.”
She twists around. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting you out of here.” I put my skis outside of hers so she’s tucked between my legs in a snowplow, the same way Mom taught me to ski. I slip my arms under hers and lock my grip to support her, then push off. Help me, Mom. Mike’s high-pitched moan gets louder as we reach the lip, but I don’t stop. Momentum carries us over the edge and it’s like her body forgets what to do. I nearly fall as she crumples into me. “Mike! You have to help me!”
“I’m t-trying!”
Her ponytail whips me in the face. The base of the chairlift winks up ahead, and the whine of a snowmobile steels my resolve. “We’re almost there.”
She clenches her arms against her side, pinning mine.
“Stay loose, Mike.”
The pressure lessens but her body is locked in position.
Our skis bump as I steer us. She lets out another squeal but her body doesn’t fight mine. “Almost there,” I whisper, reassuring myself as much as her. As if on cue, a snowmobile carrying two Ski Patrol rounds the bend and I exhale.
Mike waves her arms, dropping all the poles.
They turn our way but I can’t relax yet. If Mike falls again her injury could get worse. I force my legs into a wider snowplow, slowing our decent. The snowmobile whinnies to a stop a few feet away and I finally release my grip. Mike collapses to the ground.
The guy on the back jumps off. “You girls need to get off the mountain. We got reports of an avalanche.”
A shudder passes through me.
Mike fumbles with her bindings. “I hurt my leg. I can’t ski.”
He jumps into action, removing her skis and scooping her into his arms. I’ve never seen them move someone before checking their neck. He sets her on the back of the snowmobile, where he’d been sitting. “You’re gonna have to hang on. There isn’t time to get a sled.” He looks at me. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “Just her.”
“Can you carry her skis?”
“Yeah.”
He runs up the hill behind me and grabs our poles. “You okay to follow us?”
The panicked look on his face scares me more than the rumbles and booms.
I grab Mike’s gear and nod. “Where’s the avalanche?”
He catches the driver’s eye, then looks back at me. “Let’s go.”
Why won’t he answer?
My stomach drops.
What if it’s the terrain park?