Before I realize it, I’m nearly at the resort, my short andquickened breaths escaping my parted lips and creating small puffs of cloud that quickly evaporate in the air.
Thankfully, it opens at six for early classes, so when I walk toward the snow park I’m grateful for all the bright lights illuminating this place I call heaven. There’s no one here yet. Just me, and that’s exactly what I wanted.
My legs continue to protest as I go up the steep pitch of the halfpipe, my body humming to life just by being here. Stopping by the outer edge of the pipe, I drop my board and my backpack, taking a seat on the snow just to revel in the view.
I’ve spent years on this terrain – training, perfecting my tricks, wishing I could snowboard for the rest of my life. I’m a lucky motherfucker. Don’t mistake me for an ungrateful person – not many teens can live their dreams as easily as I did. But I worked hard, I sweated, I cried, and my persistence and determination brought me to where I am today. I’d never trade this life for anything else. I’d never give up on my dreams. I’d never let anyone take them away from me.
Proving that I’m back in the game starts now.
Checking the bindings and making sure they’re perfectly secure, I sigh, wishing I’d taken the step-ons I now use. They’re more practical, but these will suffice. I fix my helmet, my goggles, my gloves, and the moment my boot comes in contact with the board, my heart thunders with anticipation.
Fuck. This is going to feel extremely good.
I don’t think twice and let myself fall on the slope. I soak in the exhilarating feeling, the adrenaline consuming my senses as the cold air bites at my skin. I start with a McTwist, then gather the pace I need on my descent and rotate into a Frontside 180. I don’t think at all, as those basic tricks were perfected long ago with muscle memory. On my next aerial maneuver, I perform a double grab, and when I land, I ignore the pain shooting up my knee.
Mierda.
I didn’t even warm up. Rookie mistake.
Rushing across the slope, I grind my teeth and cast the ache aside by rotating into an 1800 Melon.
I don’t listen. I don’t listen to anything my body is telling me. All I’m focused on is the thrilling sensation that only riding can produce.
I’m tempted to do a hard trick, but I haven’t trained in weeks, and I can’t risk everything. If I mess up, I’ll go back to the starting point, and my recovery will only be prolonged. I realize too late that I’ve been losing myself in my thoughts, so when I attempt a Cab 1080, I know I’ve fucked up with the way my body is positioned before the landing.
An intense jolt of pain crashes through my leg as I trip, making me stumble and roll toward the flat bottom.
Before I can even try to catch myself, I get propelled forward. And as soon as my head hits something I black out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALARA
I usually don’t take requests for individual lessons because I don’t have much time on my hands, but when the lodge begged for my help, I found myself making an exception – just this once.
Here’s my New Year’s resolution: stop saying yes when my body is screaming no.
The upside of today’s class is that I’m teaching a seventeen-year-old how to snowboard – which is a nice change from all the skiing lessons I’ve been giving. The downside? It’s supposed to begin at 7 a.m., and whoever said it was a good idea to start lessons this early must have been drunk.
Because I want to warm up before my student gets here, I’m already at the resort. The good thing about arriving at six-thirty is that the place is almost empty, giving me all the space and time to practice in peace.
Walking to the snow park with my board tucked under my arm, I lift my gaze to the first blush of the day, where the rising sun casts out a pink hue amongst tendrils of navy and orange – the promise of a beautiful, sunny morning.
My steps falter as a blur of black catches my attention.Squinting my eyes, I notice it’s someone lying in the flat bottom of the halfpipe, unmoving.
What happened?
Dropping my board in the snow, I jog toward the person.
I recognize those baggy black snow pants.
That black jacket.
That snowboard with neon stripes on its underside.
Panic rises inside me and wraps its sharpness around my lungs, my eyes widening in terror as I rush to Diego.
Oh, no, no, no. What did he do?
