AllFreeNovel
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It really is wonderful, standing on top of the mountain, feeling like you’re the only person who has seen this sight. Like no one in the world besides us even really knows where we are, or sees the beauty that we see. It takes my breath away.
Nance is nodding, listening to Roger’s instruction. She glances at me to make sure I’m okay and I nod back. Roger scowls at me.
“Who set your skis for you?” he complains, shuffling over and kneeling down. He bangs against the buckles a few times, knocking with his knuckles.
“Yeah, I guess I—”
“He’s got a wife,” Roger says suddenly, close to my ear.
I flinch back and stare at him. He raises his eyebrows at me and then jerks his chin subtly toward Chad.
“Thought you should know,” he adds.
“Yeah… Thanks.”
Over Roger’s shoulder, I just stare. Chad and Nance didn’t hear. They’re still just smiling like everything is A-Okay.
Chad has a wife? Are you fucking kidding me?
My heart begins hammering in my chest, pumping me full of hot, tarry blood. I can’t believe this. Can I be mad at Nance yet? How did she not know this? Or did she know, and just not tell me for some reason?
But Nance and Chad are just smiling at us, oblivious. Determined not to play into their hand, I just smile back and wave, silently flipping them off inside my mitten.
“Well, let’s do this,” Roger grumbles, skiing gracefully away. That guy might be a jerk, but he did just save me a good deal of embarrassment and anger. I suppose I owe him one.
The four of us perch at the top of the hill, ready to go, looping the pull straps over our wrists, then we each lower the visors over our eyes. The orange glass changes the environment, showing me even more detail. I can see how the path is a subtle S-shape all the way down to the bottom, with a couple of other paths snaking off to the side. I’m no great skier, but I’m pretty sure I can handle this trail. And when we’re done, we will meet Tony or whoever the hell he is, and I’ll just ask to go back to the hell hole that is my hotel and what’s left of my life.
“Just follow me if you get worried, okay, kid?” Chad says infuriatingly. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
“Just lead the way, Chad,” I reply in a sickeningly admiring voice.
Slowly at first, we all begin our descents, swinging out to the left then cutting back toward the right in a long, lazy Z-shape that will get us down the hill but not build up too much speed.
Nance is a much better skier than I, and she delights in wiggling her ass around, making Chad chase her. If the two of them aren’t careful, they’re going to end up tumbling downhill in one giant cartoon snowball.
Actually, that sounds fine.
I try to remind myself to breathe in and out, controlling my motions, listening to the whooshing sound of my skis against the perfectly powdery snow. I want this beautiful scene to calm me, even though I am boiling on the inside.
With the wind picking up, I struggle a little to control my path. I remember vaguely that I’m supposed to basically assume a sitting position and let my thighs do the work, but the wind and the light snow keep working against me. How does Nance make this look so easy?
When Roger swoops past me, I tighten up, pushing myself over a couple of moguls by mistake. I am sure that they saw that, and I’m embarrassed, knowing they can tell my lack of control. But by snowplowing just slightly like a kid in a ski lesson, I slow down and let them swoop ahead, sure that they are more interested in themselves than in me anyway.
Suddenly, off to the right, I see one of the alternative trails I saw before. A little solitude sounds like a good idea, and with a small shift of my weight suddenly I’m by myself. Trees whip past me superfast and I dig my heels in, trying to keep my weight back to monitor my speed as I course through this solitary path.
It’s delightful to be alone, at least for the moment. I keep my weight over my heels, sure that I know at least enough about skiing to keep myself on the path.
The trees loom dark and quick, cutting me off toward a narrower trail. Driving my weight toward my left leg, I turn sharply, then turn back the other way. Swearing silently, I try to focus and drive myself back toward the main trail, but quickly realize there’s no way through without dashing my brains against a tree trunk. People die like that.
Panicking, I force myself to turn right and jump over a messy pile of brush. Suddenly the land beneath me is gone, simply gone. I hear wind in my ears and an unbelievable silence before crashing back among the trees, vaguely aware that I’ve only got one ski. With my arms and other leg out, I try not to fall off a cliff or land in a tree.
My remaining ski twists along with my ankle as I land painfully on my side and begin to roll, bouncing down an incline, hearing my breath come out in guttural coughs. Then I’m swimming, drowning in white, sinking down, maybe breathing, maybe not.
Then nothing.
Later, I’m not sure how much later, I open my eyes. There’s snow everywhere, and a howling. After a few seconds, I twist around, trying to figure out which way is up. I guess I’m lying half on my side, half curled up over what feels like an enormous boulder. But I’m covered in snow.
Carefully, inch by inch, I release whatever part of my body is free at the moment. My right leg can stretch out, but my left leg is pinned. After shifting my shoulders, I feel like I can release my top half. But something hurts, sharp, right to the middle of me. Did I break a rib?
