The Ex Games(44)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“That’s what you think,” he snarked. “I’ve been doing yoga.”

“—you have another think coming. You will buy me those Poseur tickets. And I’m not even taking you. You will hand the tickets over to me, and I’ll take someone else.”

“Who? Your little brother’s friends?”

“No, Everett Walsh.” I closed the door softly behind me so as not to alarm sleeping adults, because I was that mature.

Even through the door and the rolled up window, I could clearly hear every filthy word Nick uttered, ending with, “Everett [cuss word] Walsh.”

I opened the passenger door. “Ask not for whom the fire-crotch burns; it burns for thee!”

“Shut up,” Nick said. “I’m waiting for you to go in the house.”

“Fine.” I slammed his door, forgetting all about courtesy to sleeping adults this time. But as I hiked back through the yard to Liz’s front porch, I was so proud of myself for not crying. I never shed a tear.

Not until I opened the front door and heard his truck ease away. Just as he’d promised, he’d idled there all that time, watching me, waiting to make sure I got inside the house okay. Like a gentleman.

I closed the door softly, turned the deadbolt, and managed to slip out of the galoshes and line them up against the wall as I’d found them. Only then, with everything else in order, did the tears spill out of me. I wanted to scream, but there was no way I’d startle everyone in the house like that. Holding the sobs inside hurt my ribs. I collapsed on the floor, hugging my knees, rocking back and forth on the floor. I felt empty, lost, and totally alone in the dark house.

I wished I could start over in a new town, with new friends. I would do everything right this time.

No, wait. That’s exactly the chance I’d had four years ago, and now I’d blown it.

Besides, just thinking about leaving Liz and Chloe and Nick behind, I missed them already.

I was exhausted, even after so many hours of fainting and drug-induced sleep. My first instinct was to lie back on the floor where I sat. But that might alarm Liz’s mom when she woke up to make breakfast. She would trip over me like I was Doofus. The obvious choice was the den sofa, which I could see from my seat on the floor. But Nick’s scent would linger there. Thoughts of him touching me might have lulled me to sleep earlier this evening. They would keep me wide awake now.

In the end I dragged myself down the hall and up the stairs to Liz’s room. Chloe snored softly in one twin bed. Liz was sprawled across the other. Lifting Liz’s covers, I tried to coax her over so I could slide in next to her. With gentle prodding, she wouldn’t budge. It was exactly like the last time I’d had a nightmare about falling and had wandered down to get in bed with my mother. Liz finally groaned and rolled over. I lay down beside her, relaxed into her warmth, and felt comforted just lying next to her, even if she didn’t know I was there.

She rolled back over and spooned against me, fitting her front to my back. She draped her arm across me and hugged. “You okay?” she whispered dreamily.

I nodded. “I thought Nick and I were going to make out.”

“Surprise.”

“And then we had a fight. If you and Chloe could throw us together, I would really appreciate it, because I don’t know how to fix this anymore.”

“Tell us about it in the morning.”

I nodded again, then felt myself sobbing, shaking against Liz. She held me more tightly as I cried myself to sleep.

steeze

steeze

(stz) n. 1. style and ease 2. you’ve either got it or you don’t

After a big breakfast at Liz’s house and more bitching with her and Chloe about what pigs boys could be, I rode the bus home to change into clean boarding clothes. I walked into the mud room—tripped over Doofus—and found Josh stepping into his boarding boots. “Hey!” I greeted him cheerfully. “Thanks for coming to my rescue yesterday, and for calling me fat.”

“You’re going to be sorry you were snide to me when you see what I’ve got for you.” He lifted the folded garment next to him and shook it out.

The BOY TOY jeans!

“What do you mean?” I exclaimed. “They’re mine forever?”

“Yes. They’re to help you make your own luck. The catch is, if you want them forever, you have to wear them to the comp today.”

“But I’ll get soaked!” I wailed.

“Don’t fall.”

I took the jeans from him and hugged them close. “Thank you, Josh. This means so much to me. I know you’ve kidded about me going pro and taking you with me, but are you actually for me in this comp? I figured you’d have a bet with Gavin’s sister that I’d lose.”

He shook his head. “I went ahead and bought her and me both a ticket. Might as well. That’s one bet I know I’d lose.”

“Aww, Josh, that’s so awesome of you!” I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him hard.

He didn’t hug me back. He stiffened and said, “Ew, ew, ew.”

I let him go and stepped back to look him in the eye.

“Ew,” he said again. But one corner of his mouth crooked upward in a smile.

It was nice to have at least one boy behind me.

“Hayden O’Malley!”

I looked up from the sink and peered around the women’s bathroom in the ski lodge. Chicks stood inside and outside stalls, in various states of undress. Waterproof layers were hard to get in and out of, and snowboarders definitely were not peeless goddesses. Finally I saw the girl who had called my name. She stood in the doorway, long blond hair twisted into hippie twirls and braids.

“Daisy Delaney!” I hollered.

“I’d recognize you anywhere,” she yelled over the chatter in the bathroom. “They’re playing your steeziness over and over on local TV! Girl, you’re famous!” She crossed the room and leaned forward to hug me by way of introduction.

We talked for a few minutes about the local competition I’d won and the tricks I’d landed. Then she said, “After your comp is over, my boyfriend and I are shredding the back bowls. Want to hang? We can get a head start on your lessons next week, see where you are. I can give you some pointers.” She chuckled. “Maybe you can give me some pointers.”

“The back bowls? Sure!” I felt confident that she wouldn’t find out what a chicken I was, because after the comp, if I hadn’t gone off the jump, I would be dead of shame. And if I had gone off the jump, I would be just plain dead.