The Ex Games(39)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“Honestly, you need to get used to it,” Liz said ominously. “A professional snowboarding career is nothing but pressure.”

“Honestly,” I yelled so loudly that she released my arm in surprise, “the two of you are not helping!” I turned on Chloe. “Didn’t you advise me to take control? Well, how am I supposed to do that if the two of you manipulate every facet of my life?”

“Another excuse,” Chloe declared. “I can’t believe you made me snowboard today for this. My cheeks are chapped, and for what? Come on, Liz.” Under her wooly rainbow hat, her blonde ponytail flipped around, dissing me, as she boarded away.

I turned to Liz. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go on, Liz.”

Liz reached out to pluck her ski pole from where Chloe had poked it into the snow. “I think you’re just tired,” she said gently.

“How could I be tired? I haven’t done anything. That’s the whole problem.” Actually, I was bone-tired, just as I’d felt a few times this week when Nick had made me feel bad about myself. I hadn’t gone off the jump, but thinking about going off the jump and gathering all my energy only to pull out at the last second had totally drained me.

And then I started to cry.

“I’m sorry, Hayden,” Liz said instantly. “I shouldn’t have let Chloe pick those judges.” She skied over to hug me.

“No, I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m making everybody mad at each other and now at me, and for what? For nothing!”

“It’s not for nothing,” Liz said soothingly. “Let’s ask the boys for an extension. We’ll do the comp on Sunday instead of tomorrow. Daisy won’t care that she missed it, since she’ll get a free hotel room anyway. Chloe and I will come back to the mountain with you tomorrow and work with you until you go off the jump. We’ll figure something out.”

“The Poseur concert is tomorrow night, so Sunday will be too late for the bet,” I cried. “Plus, the boys would never let us do that. They want me to fail anyway, so why would they give me another chance to succeed? Plus, it would just be an extra day for me to screw up, and to lose one more friend. Let’s face it, I’m done.” My goggles had fogged up inside with my tears. I tore them off, along with my hat. The wind was shockingly cold on my bare, wet face. “Totally useless, totally done.”

“Hayden!” Chloe screamed from somewhere downhill.

Liz and I glanced at each other for only a second, then whipped around in a rush of powder. Chloe had been headed to the pass through the trees onto Main Street. I feared the worst, and I knew Liz did, too. People around here only half-laughed at Sonny Bono jokes. Skiers and boarders were killed every year running into trees, not just betties like Chloe but also experienced boarders. I slid across the snow as fast as I could, throwing all my weight into it. I stopped sideways at the edge of the stand of trees and sent a wave of snow arcing into the dark trunks.

Chloe was in the trees all right, way down the slope from us. I picked out her pink clothes right away against the white. She must have hit a mogul in the snowy path and veered into the trees. She was sitting upright, though, and none of her limbs pointed the wrong way. Ugh ugh ugh, I shrugged off that thought and called to her. “Are you okay?”

“Okay,” she called back. “Just stuck. My board’s buried and kind of pinned against this tree and my boot won’t come loose. Aren’t your boots supposed to pop out of your bindings when you suffer a major biff?”

This was not the time to point out to Chloe that her “major biff” was likely a low-speed slide of ultrabetty-ness. And if she hadn’t been able to free her boots by now, I wouldn’t be able to talk her through it. I would have to show her.

“Hold on,” I called, popping off my board. The snow between the trees was piled up much higher than the snow on the slopes, which the sun melted and skiers wore down all day. There was no telling what lurked underneath the snow in the woods. Most likely, it wasn’t safe to board across. Boarding boots weren’t the safest footwear for hiking, either, but I couldn’t leave Chloe. Darkness was falling.

“You want me to go with you?” Liz asked, stopping on her skis behind me.

“Nah, but bring my board if I’m able to haul her out the other side. And”—wiping my long hair out of my eyes, I remembered I’d taken off my goggles—“see if you can find my goggles and my hat. I dropped them somewhere.” I put one boot into the soft snow at the very edge of the slope and sank much farther than I’d imagined, up to my hip.

“Watch that first step,” Liz called.

I didn’t even retort, I was so focused on Chloe downhill from me. Every step I took was deeper than the last, and it grew harder to bring my other foot around. Once I sank into a snowdrift all the way to the ground and slipped on the rocks underneath, like disappearing under the surface of a frozen lake.

“Hayden, are you still there?” Chloe screamed.

“I’m still here.” At least, I thought I was. The daylight vanished even more quickly here under the bare trees, and the white all around disoriented me.

“Do you want me to call the boys?” Liz suggested from way above me.

“Do not call Nick Krieger!” I shouted. “God, would he love this.”

“I’ve got Davis in my cell phone,” Liz called. “Gavin, too.”

“Absolutely not. If you call Davis or Gavin, Nick will be attached.”

Chloe squealed, “Yes, please, Liz. Gavin would be excellent right now! No offense, Hayden, but don’t join the ski patrol anytime soon.”

“Ingrate!” I yelled. “I’ll show you. I’m about to save the day, in just a minute here.” I’d reached a patch where the snow was shallower, only knee-deep again. I seemed to be on an outcropping of rock, because my boots slid around beneath me worse than ever. Luckily, I’d almost reached Chloe. She was ten yards downhill from me.

“Tick-tock,” she said. Through the low-hanging branches between us, I could see her haughty expression, like she was still angry with me, and she wasn’t half-buried in snow.

Now I was mad. Even though they were water-resistant, my boarding clothes weren’t meant to be immersed in snow. I was freezing. I expected at least a little gratitude from this diva. “Apologize for what you said to me at the jump,” I demanded.

“Never!” she cried, sitting up straighter in her snowdrift.