“Why don’t we go down Main Street?” She gestured to the enormous slope in front of us with the ski lodge a tiny dot at the bottom. “And then we’ll have time to take the lift up for one last run before it gets dark.”
“Race ya,” I said, getting a five-second head start on her before she could put her goggles down.
We crisscrossed the expanse of snow. She leaped over moguls and crash-landed on the other side, her falls cushioned by six inches of fresh powder. I used the moguls to launch me into lazy 360s. We giggled and shouted and nearly ran into each other a dozen times on our way down. Despite the slow powder conditions and the snow plastering my goggles so I had to stop and wipe them every few minutes, this was what snowboarding was really about for me. Speeding downhill in a race was fun, and I loved pushing my body to land new stunts with steeze. But the real joy came in messing around with friends, exploring, trying new things without worrying about how they’d look, and knowing I could come back and do it all again tomorrow.
“Boy alert,” Liz called as we reached the bottom of Main Street and passed the half-pipe. I stopped beside her, shook the snow out of my hair (gingerly, because the ends of my hair were heavy with ice), and pulled off my goggles so I could see. Sure enough, Nick, Davis, and Gavin stood in line on the side of the pipe, waiting their turns and watching another guy bust ass on a 720 attempt.
“Oooh,” said the crowd around the pipe.
“Oooh,” echoed the people braving the snow to drink beer or hot chocolate out on the deck of the ski lodge. They were far enough away that their voices reached us a split-second later.
“Do you want to go and say hi to the boys?” Liz asked me. She was so sweet to ask me first. I knew she wanted some Davis time since she hadn’t seen him all day, but I’d told her how things had ended last night between me and Nick.
“Sure,” I told her. “I have to go back to school with Nick on Monday. No point in avoiding him now.” She took off her skis and I kicked off my board below the pipe, and we hiked up behind the boys in the center of the crowd of spectators lining the lip.
“Davis,” Liz called.
He looked back toward us, ducked his head so he could see us among the other spectators, and waved at us. Then he turned around to the half-pipe again. He and Gavin both leaned their heads in toward Nick so all three of them could share a laugh. I heard their cackles echo against the far side of the half-pipe. The whole crowd sighed, “Oooh.” And then I heard Nick say, “Fire-crotch.”
biff
biff
(bif) n. 1. crash 2. somebody bites it
Thinking back on it later, I realized I must have dropped my board without any regard to how far away it might have slid down the slope. I must have climbed to the rim of the half-pipe with surprising nimbleness, considering my usual trouble maneuvering in my boarding boots. I must have pushed five people aside. But all I remember is shoving Nick in the back and screaming, “Liar!”
He spun around with his dark eyes wide. It was the only time I’d ever seen him startled.
“Did you call me a fire-crotch in the lunchroom, Nick?” I shouted. “Did you? Does it really matter if you didn’t, when you called me one just now? You have got a lot of freaking nerve!” Panting, I managed to stop myself from saying anything else, because so many people around us were leaning in, listening, murmuring about the bet and the Poseur concert.
But what I’d said didn’t begin to tap how furious I was with him, and how hurt I was. He’d stood there in the snow at Mile-High Pie last night and made me feel sorry for him! He’d made me feel terrible for something I didn’t even do, after he’d lied to me to my face! And then he’d kissed me, and I’d let him!
Mortifying.
Now his lips parted. I waited to hear the next lie. I almost hoped it was a good one, so at least I’d have an entertaining story to share with my friends about what an ass he was.
But Davis spoke up first in a reasonable tone, like a psychiatrist soothing a loony. “We weren’t talking about you, Hayden.”
Gavin jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The kid in the pipe just busted his nuts on the deck.”
I glared at Gavin, showing him I didn’t buy his ridiculous story. Then, just to make sure he was lying, too, I stuck my head between him and Nick and peered into the pipe. A freshman lay at the bottom of the course, holding his crotch. As I watched, he slowly stood and used his board as a crutch to hobble out of the pipe. The spectators cheered like he was an injured football player walking off the field during a game.
Nick was watching me. Not glaring. Just watching me with an expression beyond hurt.
I took a breath, and couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Come on, Nick,” Gavin called. “You’re up. Better get your head in the game, if you know what I mean.”
Nick still watched me as he passed. Then all three boys turned their backs on me as they hiked above the pipe. Nick stepped onto his board and lowered his goggles.
“Here’s your board,” Liz said behind me.
“Thanks.” Absently I gripped the snowboard she slipped into my mitten. “I guess you heard all that.”
“I guess everyone between here and Aspen heard it,” she murmured. “Why didn’t you tell him you were sorry?”
“I—” I began. Truth was, I’d opened my mouth to apologize, since that was the logical thing to do after such a stupid mistake. But I’d still been so angry over something he hadn’t really done, I couldn’t get the words out.
So angry that I would have belittled what he loved or challenged him to a stupid contest if I’d had the chance.
“Nick Krieger,” the crowd sighed, collectively recognizing Nick as he hopped onto the slope and sped toward the deck.
He dropped into the pipe and picked up incredible momentum down the side and across the flat, almost as if the pipe weren’t filled with powder. The opposite wall launched him so high, I definitely would have lost my balance and rolled down the windows if I were him. Nick just grabbed his board in a method air, like it was nothing. He hung in the sky for an impossible second, then slid down the side.
“Oooh,” said the crowd, followed a moment later by an “oooh” from the ski lodge.
He hit the same height in his next trick, a 360. He couldn’t do my tricks, but he went much higher, and he was so heavy and powerful that the pipe seemed to grind and bend underneath him. I could feel it in my teeth.
“Oooh,” said the crowd.
He crossed the flat again and launched his third trick, a 540. I could tell the split-second after he hit his apex that what he’d intended to do didn’t match his rotation.
“That’s not going to end well,” Liz whispered as Nick headed for the snow without completing the last revolution. I’d seen a lot of crashes, courtesy of Josh and his peeps. I pictured this one in my head before it happened.
I couldn’t watch. The snow in the air had thickened, but even so, I could see his dark silhouette headed downward. I closed my eyes.
“Biff!” yelled the crowd in unison.
I opened my eyes and gasped. “He’s not moving.”
Liz grabbed my padded arm.
I waited for Gavin and Davis to move from their places at the top of the course. A gray snow cloud of testosterone always hung over the half-pipe course, making boys try tricks they couldn’t land and pretend not to be hurt when they were. Nick would be embarrassed if his friends went down to check on him. He would be horrified if I did. But somebody had to go. Nick got hit in football games all autumn long, and he was used to it. If he wasn’t getting up, he was really hurt.
Finally, Gavin and Davis maneuvered their boards to the edge of the course and tipped over into the pipe, skidding to a stop just above Nick’s dark, motionless body.
Through the thick snow, I saw him slowly rise.
I gasped again, and realized I’d been holding my breath.
He kicked off his snowboard and hoisted it behind his back to carry it home. The boarders arou
nd me on the lip of the course cheered for him.
“Thank God!” Liz exclaimed. “He can’t be hurt too badly if he’s walking away.” She turned to me with her dark eyebrows raised in question. “Want to go after him?”
I did, desperately. I squinted through the snow after the dim retreating shapes of the three boys, Gavin and Davis sliding on their boards, Nick limping a little. “Better let him cool down first.”
Liz puffed out a little sigh of relief. “Still want to get in that last run?”
“No. If it’s okay with you, let’s call it a night.” I’d thought I wanted to squeeze every minute of boarding I could out of winter break. I’d never been the person to turn down one last run. And I should have been ecstatic that my snowboarding challenge with Nick was over now because he’d been injured.
But for once, my heart just wasn’t in boarding. My heart was with Nick.
This was how my life worked: Something great happened simultaneously with something very bad. I won lessons with Daisy Delaney, but I had to snowboard off a cliff to get any benefit from them. I found the perfect pair of jeans, but they didn’t belong to me, and they had BOY TOY written across the butt. Now my ugly bet with Nick had ended, so maybe we could finally get together. But oops—I had just screamed at him in front of a live audience, and he was probably crippled.
That night after supper I sat on my bed, staring at the cell phone in my hand. I’d already called Liz and Chloe. Both of them had promised to meet me on the slopes the next day just for fun, since the comp was obviously off after Nick’s injury. More importantly, they said Davis and Gavin did not have an update on Nick’s condition. Boys, it seemed, did not check on each other like girls.
Which was precisely my problem. I couldn’t stand the thought of Nick hurting in his house without his mother home. Maybe his dad wasn’t home, either. They might not even know he’d fallen. I had to make sure he was okay.
Nick had been angry enough at the half-pipe that he’d probably hang up on me when I called. Or worse, he’d be very polite, like he was at school to people he didn’t know.
But his well-being was more important than my pride. I’d just entered his number from the school handbook into my cell phone. All I had to do was press the green button and the call would go through.
Good: I would find out whether Nick was okay.
Bad: Nick would view me as one of those girls at school who chased him, even after they’d gone on two dates and he’d called it quits.
Nick’s number waited impatiently on the screen, tapping its foot. I could press the red button to cancel the call. Without pressing anything, I set the phone down on my bedside table, crossed my arms, and glared at it.
Good: Nick wouldn’t think I was chasing him.
Bad: Nick would die alone in his house from complications related to his stupendous wipeout. The guilt of knowing I could have saved his life if not for my outsized ego would be too much for me to bear. I would retreat from public life. I would join a nearby convent and knit potholders from strands of my own hair. No, I would crochet Christmas ornaments in the shape of delicate snowflakes. Red snowflakes! They would be sold in the souvenir shops around town. I would support a whole orphanage from the proceeds of snowflakes I crocheted from my hair. All the townspeople of Snowfall would tell tourists the story of Crazy Sister Hayden and the tragedy of her lost love.
Or I could call Nick. Jesus! I snatched up the phone and pressed the green button.
His phone switched straight to voice mail. Great, I hadn’t found out whether he was dying, and if he recovered later, he would see my number on his phone and roll his eyes.
Damage control: Beeeeep! “Hey, Nick, it’s Hayden. Just, ah, wanted to know how a crash like that feels.” Wait, I was trying to get him to call me back, right? He would not return my call after a message like that. “Actually, just wondering whether you’re ready to make out again and then have another argument.” He might not return that call, either. “Actually, I remembered your mother isn’t home, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Please give me a call back.”
Pressed red button. Set phone on nightstand. Folded arms. Glared at phone. Picked it up. “Freaking stupid young love!” I hollered, slamming it into the pillows on my bed. Doofus jumped up, startled.
Ah-ha.
I slipped into long underwear, layered on the BOY TOY jeans and shirts and sweaters and coats and hats, and waddled stiffly downstairs to find Doofus’s leash. By now Josh and Mom were video-bowling. I hoped they were so absorbed that I could escape from the house just by calling a good-bye into the den as I passed the doorway.
But no. “Hayden,” Mom called. “Where are you going all bundled up?”
“I’m taking Doofus for a walk,” I said brightly.
“I already took Doofus for a walk,” Josh said.
I stared at him. He stared right back at me while Mom took her turn bowling. I could have explained that I wanted to walk by myself and get some air. But it would be pretty unusual—one might even go so far as to say unheard-of—for me to take a hike on a winter night when I was exhausted from boarding all day.
I could also come right out and tell both of them that Nick had fallen on the slopes today and I wanted to check on him. But then Mom would suggest I take the car to his house. And then I could never pull off the façade that I just happened by his mansion while walking my dog.
Besides, it was the principle of the thing—the very idea that Josh saw I wanted to walk Doofus and he was going out of his way to foil me, like a normal little brother. This made me angry. Did he want Nick to die on the floor of his bathroom from an overdose of mentholated rub? Did he want me to spend the last eighty years of my lifespan in a convent? Maybe he was mad that I was trying to sneak out of the house wearing his jeans for the third day in a row.
“I am taking Doofus for another walk,” I said clearly, daring him to defy me.
“That would not be good for Doofus.” He folded his arms. “Mom, that would not be good for Doofus.”
Oh! Dragging Mom into this was low. Not to mention Doofus. “Since when is going for a walk not good for a dog?” I challenged Josh.
“He’s an old dog!” Josh protested.
“He’s four!” I pointed out.
“That’s twenty-eight in dog years! He’s practically thirty!”
“Strike!” Mom squealed amid the noise of electronic pins falling. Then she shook her game remote at both of us in turn. “I’m not stupid, you know. And I’m not as out of it as you assume. I know the two of you are really arguing about something else. It’s those jeans again, isn’t it?” She nodded to me. “I should cut them in half and give each of you a leg. Why does either of you want to wear jeans with ‘BOY TOY’ written across the seat anyway?”
“I thought that was the fashion,” Josh said. “Grandma wears a pair of sweatpants with ‘HOT MAMA’ written across the ass.”
“That is different,” Mom hissed. “She wears them around the kitchen.”
I inhaled indignantly through my nose. “I said,” I announced haughtily, “I am going for a walk with my dog. My beloved canine and I are taking a turn around our fair community. No activity could be more wholesome for a young girl and her pet. And if you have a problem with that, well! What is this world coming to? Come along, dear Doofus.” I stuck my nose in the air and stalked past them, but the effect was lost. Somewhere around “our fair community,” Mom and Josh both had lost interest and turned back to the TV.
Or so I thought. But just as I was about to step outside, Josh appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the mud room. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
I said self-righteously, “I am taking my loyal canine for a w—”
“You’re going to Nick’s, aren’t you?” he whispered. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I heard you yelled at him for no reason at the half-pipe, right before he busted ass.”
I swallowed. Good news traveled fast. “So?”
“So
, why are you going over there? Best case scenario, you make out with him again and then have another fight.”
Good news about everything traveled fast. I scowled at Josh. “It’s better than not knowing whether he’s hurt.”
“Is it?” Josh leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms. He’d never looked so much like my father, and it was time to put him in his place.
“Way better, and someday you will be old enough to understand.” I reached forward to pat him on the head. He dodged my hand and came after me across the mud room, bent on revenge. Doofus and I escaped out the door and ran all the way across the snowy yard. I wouldn’t have put it past Josh to chase me outside in his socks, but behind me the mud room had turned dark.
Doofus and I headed toward town. The sidewalk was icy as always but not nearly as slippery, now that I wore good walking boots rather than snowboarding boots. And the night was gorgeous, deep purple all around with the lights of downtown glowing from the valley, and a sky full of stars. We skirted the touristy area, with its streets full of happy families and laughing couples in love, and headed up the mountain.
Nick’s street was close to the center of town, but I couldn’t recall ever driving up it in my mom’s car. It allowed access to only ten mansions overlooking the slopes, the homes of nobody I knew except Nick. And somehow I had always resisted driving very slowly back and forth in front of his house. Willpower? No. I figured his front gate was equipped with security cameras and I would just be embarrassing myself. And this street was definitely not on the bus line.
Doofus and I hiked up the sidewalk. Since there was no one around, I dropped Doofus’s leash. He pranced in the snowdrifts and bit the snow and rolled in it until ice clumped and froze in his tail. He promptly trotted back to me, wagging his tail, and whacked me with the ice.
“Ouch! Sweet doggie.” We’d passed two mansions and had reached Nick’s. It was big and beautiful and distant amid the snow falling gently in the night. Through the cold landscape, warm light glowed from a second-story window. If he’d died alone in his big, empty house, at least he hadn’t died in the cold dark.