Skiing was something I’d always wanted to learn, but it was one of those things that I thought would always stay just that—a dream, like one day owning my own house and horse. Now that the dream was in front of me, in shiny Barney purple, I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted it.
GJ’s face lit up as I took the suit from the hanger. Her crow’s-feet were a permanent mark of her life full of living. I could almost see my own reflection in the outdated Sunice snowsuit, and I realized that if I wanted laugh lines like GJ, I was going to have to do a lot more smiling.
“Are you sure you can manage without me for the afternoon?”
“We’ve got it,” Uncle Eddie said.
I looked to GJ. She didn’t have to answer, she shoved the suitcase at me. “Make sure you remember to pizza pie.”
“Pizza?”
“You’ll figure it out. Don’t be late, Clementine is taking the afternoon off to teach you two how to ski.”
With the snowsuit crinkled in my arms and the hard-sided, teal suitcase in my hand, I headed to my room to get ready, but I paused on the bottom stair. “Taking the afternoon off from what?”
GJ shrugged. “I guess it’s a powder day, and she’swastingit on a couple of beginners. Those are her words, not mine.”
If I hadn’t been so rushed to get to the mountain, I would’ve noticed that GJ said skiers, plural. It didn’t click in until I was zipped into the purple space suit that there were going to be two people at my lesson.
Before I left, I searched the lobby for GJ, but she was nowhere to be found. The keys to Edward’s Cadillac SUV and a note were all that was left on her desk.
Everything was going to be okay. It was time to go work on my laugh lines, try not to break my legs, and hopefully make a new friend.
SEVEN
NICK
I’ve been describedas an asshole. An instigator. A fighter. In hockey I wasn’t one of those players who was well liked—and I didn’t care. I was one of the few goalies in the Northern Professional Hockey League with a fighting record. Fighting in my goalie skates gave me an advantage. I fought and I won.
In my opinion, I don’t have a weakness when it comes to hockey. But, when it comes to old people and animals, I’d put my life on the line to protect them. Janie Newton was one of the toughest old birds I’d ever met. I’d only known her for a day or two, but if anyone messed with her, or her friends—I’d fuck them up.
So, when GJ woke me up at seven in the morning with news that she’d secured a ski lesson with her gal pal Clementine, I couldn’t say no. Skiing was one of the sports deemed too risky for players. I couldn’t do it while I was signed to the Northern Professional Hockey League, but as a suspended player, this was my shot at learning. As far as I knew, the Bobcats didn’t have any restrictions on skiing, so I said yes.
Now, staring up at the mountain I was second-guessing my decision. It looked like a bag of Skittles had beendumped on the mountain. Little kids in colorful snowsuits zigged and zagged down the hill. A gondola disappeared into the trees, its cabins dotting the white peak thousands of feet above. Growing up, skiing was a rich person’s sport, not one that was really popular among the foster kid community. I was lucky enough to be assigned a hockey family. I could handle getting slammed into the net by a player on a breakaway, but tumbling down the mountain seemed a hell of a lot scarier.
Everyone knew Clementine at Sugar Peaks Ski Resort. She wore her white hair in two long braids that hung out from beneath a helmet covered in stickers, including one that readChicks on Sticks. Everyone waved and shouted at her as they whizzed by on their skis. Her ski gear looked brand new, and her coat was one of those expensive GORE-TEX ones that cost as much as my rent back home.
My ski clothes consisted of my Chance Rapids Bobcats practice jacket and warm-up pants. Clem, as she liked to be called, insisted that I rent a helmet along with my skis, boots, and poles.
“Are you nervous?” she asked. She slung her skis effortlessly over her shoulder and sauntered toward the gondola. I couldn’t figure out how she did it without them coming apart, so I cradled the skis in my arms like I was carrying a child. The boots were tighter than my skates, and even harder to walk in. My breath puffed out a little harder than it should have, considering we weren’t even skiing yet.
“No.” I lied. “I’m in good hands.” The cabin doors opened and Clem and I got inside. Luckily the morning rush had passed and we had the cabin to ourselves.
Clem checked her watch. “I have another lesson at lunch, so I hope that you’re a quick study.”
“Nothing like a little pressure.” I laughed, hoping it hid the tremble in my voice.
She leaned against me, her jacket rubbing against mine. “Don’t worry, honey. You’re an athlete. You’ll be leaving me in your dust in no time.”
I hoped that she was right.
We spent the morning doing drills, or exercises as she called them. Clem started with the basics and we built on them as the morning went on. After our coffee break, she insisted that I was ready to go to the top.
“Are you sure?” I shielded my eyes as I looked to the peak. It had been snowing all morning, but now the sun shone brightly and I could finally see the famous Sugar Peak, the tallest mountain in Chance Rapids.
“You’re a natural.” Clem applied some ChapStick. “You’ll never learn if you don’t challenge yourself.”
“I’m not sure if I like the sound of that. Were you the kind of parent that tossed their kid into the lake to teach them how to swim?”
