The Ex Games(19)
Author: Jennifer Echols

I reached out from under the covers, opened my bedroom door, and called down the stairs, “Yes, honored father?”

“Get down here.”

I jumped out of bed, eager to please. That was the only way I knew how to take the edge off the punishment he chose to hand down. Luckily, I glanced in the mirror, because I’d slept in a Burton Snowboards T-shirt. This would not help me look innocent at all. I pulled that off and pawed through my dresser for something more ladylike and less … dangerous. Hello Kitty!

I galloped downstairs—tripped over Doofus at the foot of the staircase—and slipped into my chair at the kitchen table. A plate of whole wheat pancakes and tofu bacon was waiting for me. I hoped the steam and the giant innocent face of a kitten on my T-shirt would blunt whatever blow was coming.

My dad had his back to me at the stove. Mom had already left to open the health club.

Across the table from me, Josh put his fork down and made a small twisting motion with his fingers. I wasn’t sure, but he seemed to be telling me I was screwed.

Dad set his own plate at the table and sat down. He drew out the torture, taking a bite, chewing slowly, staring a hole through me without speaking.

Finally I said, “Good morning, respected padre.”

“Hmph,” he said. “Your brother tells me that by giving in to your acrophobia, thereby ruining your chances of a professional snowboarding career, you are also sabotaging his chances of having the same sort of career through no special effort on his part. Shame on you! You’re grounded.”

I sniffed. “Did you really wake me up early during my winter break just so you could make a sarcastic comment to Josh?”

Josh stuck out his tongue at me, then took a huge bite of pancake.

Dad pointed at me with his fork. “Yes, sorry. If I’d waited until you woke up on your own to make that sarcastic comment, I might have been late for work.”

I yawned.

“But while we’re on the subject, Josh is right. His motivation is self-serving, but he’s right about your phobia. If you really want a pro boarding career, sounds to me like you’d better get over your fear or throw away your chance to impress Daisy Delaney. No pressure.”

I grumbled, “You have no idea.”

Though my stomach hurt, somehow I swallowed breakfast. Thirty minutes later, Josh and I pulled on our layers of boarding clothes—tripped over Doofus—and headed outside for the bus. But when I opened the mud room door and looked down at the doormat, I stopped short. Josh ran smack into me and nearly brought us both down. “Forward,” he said. “Most people walk forward. What is it?”

I picked up the local newspaper and held it out to him, speechless for once. It was rolled, but on the part we could see, a huge headline proclaimed, SNOWBOARDING COMPETITION … And a huge photo showed me in midair, snowboard and parka and red hair bright against the blue sky.

Then I pulled the newspaper back from Josh and took another look. “I’ve never seen myself snowboard before. Check my excellent form! I would be ecstatic, except that my life is crumbling around me and stuff.”

“Your life isn’t crumbling around you. Just go off the damn jump.” Josh grabbed the paper from me and slid off the rubber band. Unrolled, the news was even worse. The whole headline was, SNOWBOARDING COMPETITION SHOWCASES LOCAL TALENT, and the caption under the photo read, SNOWFALL HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR HAYDEN O’MALLEY LANDS A FRONTSIDE 900 IN THE HALF-PIPE TO WIN THE GIRLS’ 16 TO 18 DIVISION.

“Give me that, you little traitor.” I grabbed the paper back. “I’ve got to hide from Mom and Dad. You want them to make me spend my whole winter break in some shrink’s office?”

“If it helps you get over your phobia, yeah. Dad will just call the newspaper office to deliver another copy. And I don’t know who you’re calling little.”

I knew one way to solve this argument. I carefully tore the whole article out of the front page, then rolled up the newspaper and slid the rubber band back on. “Doofus,” I whispered. Poor Doofus, behind us in the mud room, stood up in a rush of jingling dog tags and slobber. I slipped the paper into his mouth and whispered, “Take this to Dad.”

Doofus wagged his tail and trotted into the kitchen. We heard Dad say, “Did you bring me the paper? Good dog. Wait a minute. Bad dog!”

Josh softly closed the door behind us. “You’ve got to do something, Hayden. You just can’t throw away this opportunity with Daisy.”

“If it’s a choice between that and me falling to my death, I sure as hell can!” I shrieked. As if in answer, ear-splitting brakes squealed downhill. “And now we’re going to miss the bus!”

We waved our arms and skidded down the icy sidewalk with our snowboards as fast as we could. The bus driver was used to us and waited. Hardly anybody rode the bus this early—only a couple of other die-hard locals on winter break. We called hi to them in the back and sat down up front.

I heaved a deep sigh. “You’re not the only one gunning for me to go off the jump. Now I’ve got Liz and Chloe on my case.” Briefly I recounted my ugly convo with Nick last night and explained our snowboarding challenge—leaving out that I’d supposedly made Nick feel worse about his parents’ separation on purpose, which was actually an accident.

Josh was staring at me with his brows down, perplexed. “Nick Krieger, of Krieger Meats and Meat Products?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that Nick Krieger.”

“Why is Nick Krieger telling you that girl snowboarders are no good and your win doesn’t mean anything? Does he like you or something? Make sure he knows we’re vegetarian. Mom and Dad would die if they had to pay your dowry in kielbasa.”

I gaped at Josh in disbelief. “What do you mean, does Nick like me? Is that how you flirt with girls you like? Tell them they’re bad at stuff? Is that how you flirt with Gavin’s sister?”

He blinked innocently. “Is that wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘wrong.’ I would say ‘not the most efficient way of asking a girl to the middle school Valentine’s dance.’”

He wrinkled his nose and moved his mouth, imitating my scolding, so I knew I’d guessed correctly about the last time he’d bombed asking out Gavin’s sister.

“Stop it.” I slapped at him. “And tell me the truth. Do you agree with Nick that I’ll never be as good as a boy, so there’s no use trying?”