“Nothing. It’s just that you called her Pen,” I say, then cock my head toward the emptying area next to the bulletin board. “Let’s go check who’s going to kick my ass.”
There are thirty-two competitors and sixteen match-ups—eight men’s pairings and eight women’s. I trace my finger along the page, finding my name at the bottom. Points are given as a collective, so even if one member of a team gets eliminated in the first round, the team still has a chance of placing, even if it’s unlikely.
“Okay, not bad. Mr. Bakshi is good, but I have a chance of winning.” I nod.
“Nice!” Someone slaps me on my shoulder and I snap my head up to find Kurt next to me. “Looks like if you don’t immediately fail, it’s you and me, man.”
“What a fun coincidence.” God. I just know June did this on purpose.
“Guess this is my chance to see how I stack up against a pro.”
“Don’t be stupid, Kurt. Liam is only a substitute. If you beat him, that doesn’t mean a thing.” Laura gives me a pitying smile. “Good to see you on more than the bunny hill after so long.”
Another announcement blares over the speakers for the half-pipe.
Henri tugs at my sleeve, taking a step toward the exit, as she talks to her old friends. “Always so fun to run into you both. But we need to go get good spots to watch the half-pipe.” We push outside and she looks me dead in the eye. “I take back everything I said. I need you to crush him and his ego.”
“Oh, baby, I’m planning on it.” I can’t fucking wait to cut that asshole down to size.
We get to the half-pipe run with time to spare, allowing us to get front row seats to Pen dominating the competition. She wears her helmet and jacket, broadcasting her sponsorship deals, and gives cheeky thumbs-ups to the cameras. A pair of commentators hunch over their mics, detailing the series of gravity stunts that cause the crowd to burst into cheers.
I snort at the end the first of her two runs, the higher of which will be used as her official score.
“What? Don’t tell me that was bad,” Henri says, eyes wide.
“She just treated it as a practice run. Watch the next one, she’ll add at least one full rotation to each of her moves,” I tell her.
Sure enough, that’s exactly what happens.
Pen runs up to us after a brief interview with a feral grin on her face.
“You were toying with them,” I say as I pull her into a firm hug. “You bailed on that first 1080 on purpose.” She’d done two and a half of the three full rotations before cutting it short and failing the trick.
She winks. “Gotta keep them guessing.”
“Show off.”
“Had to set the Hughes family standard high. Don’t lose and embarrass me later; I’ll be watching.”
“Rude.”
“I judge because I love you,” she says, skipping away. “I’m going to go touch up my hair so I look good wearing my gold medal.”
There’s no point in commenting on how there’s five more athletes who need to take their turn, because inevitably she does win. Henri screams and cheers with me, but the moment the ceremony is over, I go to change in my gear for my race.
The door to the family locker area swings open as I’m clicking the closures of my boots into place. When I look up, I blink, not expecting to see my dad there. His black coat is emblazoned with the resort’s mountain logo with his name embroidered underneath.
“Came to give me a pep talk?” I ask wearily, as years of discussions flood my mind.
“Just a quick reminder that when you’re on that mountain, you’re representing us as a family. We have fifty thousand people watching the livestream. That’s fifty thousand people who will see if the future owner of Dulcet Point is worth his salt as a skier or not. Understood?” he asks.
A moment is all it takes to feel sixteen again, waiting for a way out of a role I was expected to fill from birth, always ready to give a quick “Yes, sir.” But I don’t want to feel that way, especially not now when it will set the tone for my future here, working with him.
“You’re not my coach anymore. You’re not Pen or June’s either. But you are our dad, so I would appreciate it if you would just go out there and act like it.” I stand. I’m taller than him now, not a kid looking up to a hero. “I’m going to go out there and enjoy the snow, the same way we encourage all of our guests to.”
I walk past him, not waiting for a reply. Still, one comes as my hand lands on the door handle.
“Good luck out there, kid. I am proud of you, no matter what.”
