The Ex Games(6)
Author: Jennifer Echols

I was not, as I’d thought, a cool teen. I was not Nick’s dream girl. I was a bet.

And Liz and Chloe, feeling guilty, thought I should know. Now that Nick had kissed me, the bet had gone too far.

They also thought I would respond to this info by hugging them and crying in the bathroom, I’m pretty sure. They didn’t expect me to flounce back into the theater and scream at Nick for what he’d done to me.

In the flickering light of the movie screen, he looked horrified. I held out hope that he would apologize and explain it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe I was a little starstruck after all. I couldn’t believe the heir to the Krieger fortune had actually come on to me, even if his heart wasn’t totally in it. He’d been so sweet to me for the past month. His kiss had felt real. I wanted him to like me for real.

After he’d gaped at me and I’d held my breath for a few moments, Gavin prompted him, “Well?”

Nick blinked and said in his fauxinnocent voice, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hoyden. I mean, Hayden.”

The theater burst into laughter, and not at Will Smith.

I stomped out. Liz and Chloe followed me, which sealed our friendship forever. Liz had told me what was up when no one else would, and Chloe was willing to leave her own intrigue behind, at least for the moment, to comfort me. We all trudged through the snow back to my house, made hot chocolate, and bitched about boys.

But the second the girls weren’t looking, I escaped to my room, opened my dictionary, and looked up hoyden.

And here we still were. In the four years since, every date I’d been on, every party, every school field trip, I remembered on two levels: how it went with my boyfriend at the time, and what Nick was doing in the background, with another girl, on the other side of the room or the other end of the bus. In other words, I was addicted to Nick.

Now the stage was set. I’d been boyfriendless for about a week, ever since the Incident with Everett Walsh’s mama. Nick had dumped Fiona Lewis last week after three dates, which was one more date than he usually lasted in a relationship. I’d been watching him in class: check. I’d been dreaming about him at night: check check. He’d flirted with me in class for the past four years, but he’d never sat down with me in the hall and treated me to the low rumbly voice and hinted about the Poseur concert. Now I wished I could resist him, especially since I suspected he’d started the fire-crotch discussion in the lunchroom on Thursday just to see if he could seduce me after insulting me. Exactly how easy was Hayden, anyway? Nick’s inquiring mind wanted to know.

I was afraid he was about to find out. Despite myself, and despite Liz’s lectures about disrespect, my blood raced through my veins every time I thought about his hand on my hand in the hall (not to mention my thigh). I didn’t think I would answer yes if I ran into him during winter break and he asked me out. I couldn’t answer yes. Still, I hoped against hope that he’d ask the question.

But I also hoped he’d wait until after Tuesday, because he was distracting me enough already. I had more important things to worry about than Nick. Tuesday I had an appointment with a snowboard.

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 mouth and felt gravity pull the energy from my heart down through my legs, through my boots and snowboard, through the snow, to the rocks below. I was one with the mountain.

“Good luck, Hayden!” Liz squealed. I opened my eyes to find her in the crowd of spectators behind the ropes on one side of the snowy course. I spotted her right away because she was bouncing. Her dark curls flew into the eyes of people around her.

Chloe put one hand on Liz’s shoulder to hold her down. “Hush, Hayden’s doing one of her yoga things. Let her concentrate.”

No chance of that now. Bouncing friends tended to break my concentration. At least my brother, Josh, and his friends weren’t around. I’d checked in on them between my events, and all four of them were kicking butt in the fifteen-and-under boys’ competition held on another course at the same time as my eighteen-and-under girls’ contest. If they’d been here, they wouldn’t have squealed like Liz. They would have made up a rap with beatboxing and very embarrassing pushing-up-the-house hand movements.

It’s Hayden

What?

She’s a maven

What?

On the ski slope

What?

Give it up, folks

What?

Got the board slide

What?

Got the frontside

What?

Got the mad skillz

What?

For a sick ride

What?

It was sad that I could predict their lyrics. I boarded with them way too much.

The warning buzzer sounded. In a few seconds I would begin my slalom run in my first-ever official competition. I’d run hundreds of casual races against friends and challenged my brother to comps in the half-pipe, but nothing like this. It was so strange to stand on my board as a competitor rather than as a spectator. I recognized the sensation of adrenaline bubbling through my veins. I felt it every time I stood behind the ropes and watched someone else start a slalom. The feeling was magnified by a thousand now that I didn’t have to picture myself in the racer’s place. I was really here.

And all because of Liz and Chloe. They’d told me I was good enough to compete. When I’d seen this competition advertised, I’d ignored it as usual. They’d pointed out to me that this one had no jump, nothing higher than the half-pipe wall, so I had no excuse not to try it. I wouldn’t have been here without them. I winked at them on the sidelines, lowered my goggles, and slid my board forward to the starting line.

Deep breath. One with the mountain.

As a final touch, I twisted one of my four-leaf clover earrings. My dad had given them to me the day I got the cast off my leg, as an amulet for better luck in the future.

And then I was flying down the slalom course, staying tight and tucking in, dodging around the gates as fast as possible. I knew my time would be good because I was in the zone. My body went on automatic, feeling exactly what to do when. I enjoyed the bright sparkling day, the white snow, the spectators in crazy-colored gear lining both sides of the course, the too-blue sky. There was no feeling in the world like this, having a body that worked.

Then I hit my usual snag. For most people, the hardest part of this course was the moguls. For me, it was the straightaway past Nick’s house. His parents’ mansion had an enormous frontyard and a daunting front gate to scare away paparazzi and beggars. But the backyard bordered the slopes so the Kriegers could sit on their deck and watch the skiers. Every time I boarded past, no matter what trick I tried or who I was with, I glanced over at the deck while attempting to look like I wasn’t looking, just in case Nick was there. He never was.