Part 27 (1/2)

He's probably been under lock and key, you know?

Conner Sykes, loose in the head? Yep, that makes sense. But even if it's true, why should I give a s.h.i.+t?

I Guess I Don't Unless it means Cara shares whatever craziness gene he's carrying. I mean, maybe she's just a little confused. Maybe she could get help for that, and then there's still hope for us.

But how do I find out for sure? And even if I do, how could I ever suggest to her that her brain chemistry might be in need of adjustment?

Lots to consider. But not today.

Spring break. No school.

No game until Friday. Fresh powder on the mountain, I'm skiing. I've avoided it all season, worried about injuries. But what the f.u.c.k.

Can't live in fear of a fall.

I Don't Want To Ski Alone I called Kendra, but she's busy having an operation. Fixing the little b.u.mp in her nose that makes her face unique.

What's with girls, always trying to fix stuff that doesn't need fixing? Anyway, since she's unavailable, I did the unthinkable and invited Duvall to come along. He's annoying as h.e.l.l, but a fair skier, and for some lame reason, girls are attracted to him. Can't hurt to have him with me. Ski resorts are babe magnets. Maybe I'll hook up with a Cara stand-in.

Just something to play with until I win her back. Still have v.i.a.g.r.a left. Hate to let those little blue pills go to waste.

Rose Has Been Invaded ”s.h.i.+t. Check out the crowd. Lift lines are going to be impossible.

We should ski the singles line.”

I watch three curvy pairs of Lycra ski pants walk by as we put on our boots in the top parking lot. Uh, yeah, agrees Duvall.

Easter week and all. Which means after next weekend this place is closing up shop.

Spring break is traditionally the last week for Mt. Rose, no matter how much snow is left on the slopes. ”Too bad. Skiing will be great for a month yet.”

Yeah, well, it is baseball season. You ready or what?

We clomp down a slippery road, skis over one shoulder.

Wait in a forever line just to buy our lift tickets. Glad I'm not here for actual exercise, although standing in five-year-old ski boots is kind of a workout.

Finally we're good to go.

”I haven't skied all season.

Lakeview good? I need to warm up.” Duvall gives me one of those whatever looks.

Sure, dude. I'd rather ski with a girl anyway. He laughs, slips into his bindings, and trucks off toward the chair. And it takes until I'm snapped into my own skis to realize he just called me a girl. The little (literally) p.r.i.c.k. Under my collar, a warm seep of irritation crawls up my neck, toward my face.

From Here I can choose to go after him, show him how this particular ”girl” could mess up a certain guy's face. Or I can forget it.

Try to remember how to ski.

I push off down a gentle slope toward the high-speed chair where Duvall stands, looking put out. Do I have to wait for you all day, or will you pick this up eventually? He's smiling.

Kidding. But I want to smash his freaking dopey smirk right through the back of his skull.

Deep breath. And another.

My blood pressure lifts like mercury in a thermometer.

Time to take a break from the 'roids. When this cycle is over, or I die of a heart attack.

Even The Singles Line Is slow. By the time I slide my b.u.t.t onto a chair beside three kids kicking s...o...b..ards, the bottoms of my feet hurt.

Time for new boots. At least this is a fast chair. It sweeps up the mountain until... thud...

it stops because of a problem above or below. To my right, the old, slow chair keeps on moving at a forty-five-degree angle toward a lower disembark point on the same run this one goes to. It crosses beneath us, and my ears catch the sound of familiar laughter. I scan the line of chairs.

Cara? I think it's her, buddied up with some girl. With a b.u.mp, the chair starts up again. Before I know it, I'm at the top, where Duvall stands off to one side.

I ski right past him. ”Coming?

Or will I have to wait for you all day?” Down the short, semi-steep face, onto the flat trail that circles the resort, I reach for whatever speed I can, hoping to catch up to Cara. Duvall is right on my heels. Hey, man! What's the hurry?

Thought you wanted to warm up.

I don't even know why I want to see Cara. She'll only p.i.s.s me off. I've stopped by her house maybe a dozen times, but she won't talk to me, except to keep repeating, It's over, Sean.

Just let it go. I can't let it go.

Can't let her go. Sometimes I drive by her house, just to see if there is anyone there. Anyone else in her life but me. Sometimes I follow her, but the only place she ever goes is to rehearsals.

I know she still loves me, even if she hasn't forgiven me. Time.

There she is, up ahead. G.o.d, she's sleek as a dolphin, surfing snow. Who is that she's boarding with? The two turn down the mountain, and by the time we reach the trail they took, the girls are out of sight. I stop at the cornice's edge, breathing hard. Not sure I want to drop over this. It's d.a.m.n steep.

Duvall, of course, is up for it.

What are you waiting for?

Banzai! I pause for a second or two. But what can I really do, but tail the guy through the trees?

I'm Sure It Isn't Pretty But I manage to stay on my feet and avoid running into any obstacles. There are lots.

Trees. Stumps. Rocks. A few bushes, even, thinking it might be spring. Turn. Turn. Pause.

Turn. Turn. Pause. I think I used to be better at this.

Where the h.e.l.l did Duvall go? He can't be more talented at something than I am, can he?