The Ex Games(20)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“Keep in mind that I have seen the answer key. I know what I’m supposed to say to stop you from hitting me.”

“Uh-huh.”

He leaned back against the salt-streaked window and considered me. “You are the most physically fit person I have ever met. I mean, I’m physically fit, too. I probably work out in the health club almost as much as you do. But I have been known to sneak a Pop-Tart out of the vending machine at school.”

I gasped and put my hands to my mouth in mock horror.

“I know. It was whole grain, but still. You, on the other hand, are serious about keeping your body in top shape. You have a lot of natural athletic ability. And you got hurt all those years ago, which gives you extra drive like nobody else on the slopes.”

I couldn’t believe all this was coming out of Josh’s mouth. Normally he was such a dork, but he did have his moments of depth. Right now he was looking me in the eye, letting me know he understood what a serious problem this was for me. I felt so much better just knowing that he understood and cared.

“If you want to be a professional snowboarder,” he went on, “the only thing holding you back is you. And I can help you there.” He put his arm around me and squeezed way too hard on purpose. “Just leave it in the hands of me and my posse.”

lemon grab

lemon grab

(le mn grab) n. 1. a trick in which the rider grabs both ends of the snowboard 2. what Hayden feels like she’s doing every time she talks to Nick

“AY-BATTA-BATTA-BATTA-BATTA-BATTA!” yelled Josh’s fourteen-year-old friends. I ignored them and sped across the snow toward the jump.

“Schwing!” finished Josh. He made a batting motion with both arms.

I saw this out of the corner of my eye. I’d lost my focus on the end of the jump. There was no way I could go off the jump now. Hating the feeling of relief that washed through me, I slid to a stop next to the boys. I was careful to slice the bank with my snowboard, sending a wave of snow straight over them.

“Hey!” Josh protested. He shook snow off his hat. “I thought we were supposed to help you go off the jump. We were trying to distract you from your fear.” He wiggled his gloved fingertips at me on fear.

“You’re just giving her another excuse not to go off,” Chloe said through her pink glove. She sat on a snowboarding trick rail nearby, chin in her hand, almost as frustrated with me as I was with myself.

In the boys’ defense, they had stayed here with me for over an hour while Chloe coached me in getting over my fear of heights. I was asking a lot of all of them. I needed to end this now. Looking around at the blinding white slopes glittering in the bright sunshine, I tried to remember why this was so important. I needed to do this jump so I would believe in myself. To impress Daisy Delaney.

To show up Nick.

“Okay.” I curled my arms up like a bodybuilder. “Cheer me on here.”

“Yaaaaay.” Chloe and the four boys cheered and clapped with zero enthusiasm.

“I can do this,” I insisted. “How many failed attempts is that?”

“Nine,” Chloe said through her glove.

“There’s no way I’m going to fail at this ten times in a row. I’m Hayden O’Malley! I won the Snowfall Amateur Challenge!”

“Wooooo,” they moaned, no more excited than they’d been before.

“I shouldn’t have to convince you to cheer for me.” I reached down for a clod of snow and pelted Josh with it. Bull’s-eye: It got him right on the goggles. “What happened to leaving it in the hands of you and your posse?”

He took off his goggles and wiped them on his snow pants. “That still seemed like a good idea, back on failed attempt number three.”

“I’ll show you,” I grumbled. Anger was good for me when I tried something new with my board. Possibly Josh knew this and was acting like a butt on purpose. I tried not to think too much about that, or to remember how nice he’d been on the bus. I released my back boot from the binding and pushed myself along like I was riding a skateboard, up the hill and away from the edge of the jump. From here I could get a running start. Ideally, I would pick up enough speed that if I did chicken out at the last minute, it would be too late.

It was a gorgeous late morning with a cloudless, bright blue sky. No fog, no haze, so I could see all the way to the buildings of Snowfall at the bottom of the mountain, even pick out the festive red banners flying beneath the streetlamps.

That was a long way down.

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled through my nose. My blood spread the life-giving oxygen throughout my body.

I exhaled through my mouth and felt gravity pull the energy from my heart—

“No excuses this time!” Chloe’s voice sounded hollow, like she was calling through her cupped hands.

—down through my legs, through my boots and snowboard, through the snow, to the rocks below. I was one with the mountain.

“Daisy Delaney would be halfway down the mountain by now,” called Josh.

“Yeah!” came the voice of one of Josh’s friends. “You expect Daisy Delaney to wait for you to meditate every time you go off a cliff?”

So much for re-centering. Anger seemed to be a better motivator after all. I was a little angry at Chloe, plenty angry at Josh, and mega-angry at Nick for making me feel like a second-class snowboarder. Most of all, I was angry at myself for not being able to do this. I would show us all.

I burst into action, leaning down the hill to put all my weight into increasing my speed.

Snow arced away from me, and dark snowy trees flashed past. The jump came closer. I pictured how ecstatic I would feel when I finally made this happen. The jump loomed closer. I pictured myself going off the end.

I panicked. I skidded to a halt at the last second. Clumps of snow launched from the edge in slow motion and burst into smithereens on the snowpack below.

And then I realized I was still falling, following the momentum of my snowboard and slipping over the edge. I grabbed for anything, but there was nothing solid to grab. The jump was made of layers of packed snow. My slick waterproof mittens slipped on the edge. I banged my snowboard against the jump to free my feet from the bindings so I could get some traction with my boots, anything to keep from falling. Normally the catches were touchy, sometimes releasing at unfortunate times during the middle of a forceful trick—but now they wouldn’t pop open, and my snowboard was a dead weight pulling me down. I was back in my wheelchair already.

No way! I would not break a leg again. I would not be an invalid. My arms ached from holding myself on the precipice. I was tiring myself out and doing myself no good. I inhaled through my nose and felt my lungs fill with air. My blood spread the life-giving oxygen throughout my body. I exhaled through my—