The Slope Rules Read online

  Also by Melanie Hooyenga

  FLICKER

  FRACTURE

  FADED

  Praise for The Flicker Effect trilogy

  FLICKER

  “If you haven’t had a chance to start this amazing series, you are missing out. There’s mystery, swoonage, and Hooyenga’s incredible voice. I’ve never read anything like it. If you’re looking for an original story with unforgettable characters, pick this one up and get ready for the ride!! Such a fan!!”

  —Erica Chapman, author of Teach Me to Forget

  “Hooyenga’s FLICKER had me on the edge of my seat! A great who-done-it for YA fans, it had me guessing until the very end. Hooyenga had me (and my teenage daughter who loves this book) eyeing the shadows between trees a bit differently after reading FLICKER, it stays with you long after the last page.”

  —Stacey Graham, author and literary agent

  FRACTURE

  “The intensity increases as this unique storyline is carried forward by wonderfully imperfect multidimensional characters—no cookie-cutter stereotypes here. Fantastic all-around.”

  —Sher, Goodreads review

  “The author does it again...I love the story of Biz and Cam. I just couldn’t put it down. I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the story. Great job!”

  —Kendra, Goodreads review

  FADED

  “Ms. Hooyenga hooks you from practically the first sentence. Her dialogue always rings true to the teen voice and her writing makes her books a quick and enjoyable read! Sad to see the Biz trilogy end.”

  —Sabrina, Goodreads review

  “What a great finish in this trilogy! It was an emotional read (and I admit, I did tear up a few times) but I loved it! Just a great trilogy! I am looking forward to more books from Melanie!!!”

  —Theresa, Goodreads review

  “This series was so much better than I thought it was going to be. I would recommend ... the entire flicker effect series to a friend.”

  —Isabella Gardner-Huihui, Goodreads review

  “... the Flicker trilogy was a satisfying story... The characterizations were compelling... each story improved on the one before it. I’d recommend this series.”

  —Ryan, Goodreads review

  THE SLOPE RULES

  Copyright © 2017 by Melanie Hooyenga

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including informational storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from Melanie Hooyenga except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  THE SLOPE RULES is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Left-Handed Mitten Publications

  eBook ISBN B01MUBSOLO

  UPC

  Book design, cover design, and ebook formatting by Left-Handed Mitten Publications. Author photo by Jenn Marie Photography.

  Author website: melaniehoo.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Facebook: facebook.com/MelanieHooyenga

  Twitter: @melaniehoo

  Instagram: @melaniehoo

  Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/1bscf

  For my husband Jeremy,

  who’s always up for a race

  My favorite memory of my mom is when she took a massive jump at Killington and the guys around me at the bottom were oohing and ahhing because a chick nailed the jump they couldn’t make. And not just any chick—a chick old enough to be their mother. She stayed up in the air so long it’s like she was held against the sky with a thumbtack, her orange and white jacket popping against the bright blue, and it was so breathtaking I almost had to look away.

  That’s the feeling that pushes me now. My skis hover over the lip of the hill, but I catch myself before they plunge forward and reach down to adjust my bindings once more. I bounce my knees, counting off the seconds until the guy ahead of me clears the second jump, then I take a deep breath and launch my body over the ledge.

  I’m barely into my tuck when the first voice calls out.

  “Girls can’t jump!”

  I tuck my arms tighter to my body, forcing the comment out of my mind. Some dickweed I don’t know isn’t screwing me up now. I’ve taken this jump at least a dozen times today, but this is the first time I’m flipping my iron cross upside-down. Dad would kill me if he knew I was trying this without Coach Brown around, but he’s the one who dragged me halfway across the country on vacation to the land with powder so perfect you could—

  Whoosh! The tips of my skis slice the edge of the jump and I’m soaring ten feet above the ground. I reach back and lightly touch my glove to my boot—just enough to get the feel for the move I’ve done hundreds of times—gearing myself up for the second jump. I hold my breath as both skis hit the ground at the same time, then take a deep breath.

  The second jump is almost here.

  I crouch low to the ground to build speed. I’m sure the boys are shouting after that last air, but I can’t hear them. The only voice I hear is my mom, her soft words whispering how she feels closer to god when she’s flying through the air. I feel the familiar drop in my stomach and throw my body forward, legs tucked in as close as they can get with two five-foot skis strapped to my feet, my right hand gripping the binding as I somersault through the air.

  “She did it!”

  “No shit!”

  A smile breaks across my face as the ground rights itself beneath me. I unfold my legs, keeping my body loose for the impact of the landing, and I do something stupid.

  I glance at the boys on the side of the hill.

  Next thing I know I’m tumbling over the packed snow. I keep my bindings tight so they don’t fall off every time I land, but that means they refuse to let go as I flop ass over head down the slope. Snow smashes into my face, into my mouth, and my skis finally pop off when my right knee slams against a patch of ice. I come to a stop on my back near the third jump. Heat rips through my knee but I ignore it and roll to my side to watch for the next jumper.

  Slope Rule #1: Get out of the way of the next guy.

  A snowboarder crests the first jump, his board flipped back so he’s parallel with the ground, then he drops out of sight.

  I scoot on my butt to get out of the way, pushing with my hands and good leg. My skis are too far down the hill for me to reach so I have to hope he either saw me fall or is good enough not to land on them. He launches off the second jump faster than I expect, and a burst of air that I will never admit to sounding like a scream escapes my mouth. I give a final push with my boot and watch with a combination of horror and awe as he sails through the air, directly above me, the sun shining behind him like he’s a goddamn action hero.

  He lands beyond my skis and twists to a stop, then hops to the side so he’s clear of the next jumper. He nods at me from behind his goggles. “You okay?”

  I look from my skis to my knee, which I’m pretty sure is sprained, and shrug. “I’ve been worse.”

  His gaze flicks from me to the second jump. “You’re still too close.”

  Inside I’m grateful that he’s giving me enough credit that I know the rules and didn’t mansplain that I need to move out of the way. “I’m trying, but I think I jacked up my knee.”

  He hobbles closer and I notice his lips. Full lips. The bottom one’s a little red from where he keeps chewing on it. “Do you need help?”

  I scoot farther from
the jump and pain slices through my leg. I hate—HATE—asking for help, but either I ask this pretty-lipped boy or I get crushed by the next snowboarder. “Yeah, maybe.”

  In one swift movement he unhooks his boots and tosses his board to the side before climbing up to me. “This might hurt.” He slides his hands under my armpits and drags me away from the jump, sending heat searing through my knee.

  I bite back a whimper as I clutch my knee. Dad worries that fifteen is too young to already have knee problems, but whenever I’ve hurt it in practice Coach Brown sends me to the ice bath and by the next day, I’m fine. But something about the way this is pulsing tells me this is more serious. “I don’t know if I can ski.”

  He lets go of my arms and lowers himself to the ground next to me. “Walk of shame?”

  I bury my face in my gloves and shake my head. Riding down on the snowmobile stretcher is complete humiliation.

  I feel pressure on my arm and look up. He’s pushed his goggles on top of his helmet and I’m staring into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. A different kind of heat warms my belly, distracting me from my knee.

  “Don’t be a hero.”

  I wave a hand at the boys who yelled at me when I first took off. “I’m sure they’d love to see me carted off.”

  “They’re not all bad.”

  “You know them?”

  He shrugs. “Yes and no. I was showing them tricks earlier. Now they’re following me around.”

  “Fan club, eh?”

  “Something like that.” He nods at my knee. “So what are you doing?”

  I lock eyes with him. “Would you ride down on the sled?”

  A hint of a smile lifts his lips, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “What if I promise to have hot chocolate waiting for you in the lodge?”

  My heartbeat accelerates before I can tell it not to. I don’t chase guys. I am one of the guys. But here, in a different state, maybe the rules can be different. I smile up at him. “Only if you tell me your name.”

  His smile broadens and he holds out a gloved hand. “Blake.”

  I jam my gloved hand against his. “Cally.”

  Vacation just got a lot more interesting.

  Riding in the sled was worse than I thought. It took twenty minutes for ski patrol to show up, then they insisted on strapping me to the sled while everyone—including Blake’s obnoxious groupies—watched. They drove so slowly that kids snowplowing down the bunny hill could have passed us, and by the time we reached the medical center I was ready to pretend my knee was fine so they’d let me go.

  I texted Dad after Blake convinced me to call ski patrol, and now he’s pacing behind me inside the med center while a guy in an official red ski jacket appraises my knee. My snow pants are shoved as high up my leg as I can get them, but they keep sliding down. Red Jacket touches his chin before making eye contact with Dad. “Snow pants have to go.”

  A fresh wave of humiliation sweeps over me. Of all the days to wear long underwear with frolicking bunnies. I unsnap my snow pants and shimmy them to my ankles, then slide the bunnies over a knee that is considerably larger than it was when I got dressed this morning.

  “Christ, Cally.” Dad forces out a deep breath and rests a hand on my shoulder. “What were you trying to do?”

  If I admit I was upside-down without an adult within fifty feet he might not let me out of his sight the rest of the vacation. “Nothing crazy. Just my usual three-sixty. I caught an edge when I landed.”

  Red Jacket pokes my knee and I suck in a breath.

  Please don’t let it be serious.

  “Looks like a mild sprain. There’s a med center in town that can tell you for sure, but I suggest you stay off it for a few days.”

  I whip around and face Dad. “A few days? That’s our entire trip!”

  He squeezes my shoulders. “You don’t want to risk a serious injury, do you?” That’s Dad for you. Always logical, thinking long-term instead of immediate gratification. “Don’t think of it as ruining your vacation. Think of it as an opportunity to...” he trails off.

  I sigh as Red Jacket unrolls an Ace bandage. “Even Mr. Positive can’t come up with a way to spin to this.”

  Red Jacket finishes wrapping my knee, then slides the bunnies back down, covering my leg. “Could be worse. It could be broken.” He glances toward a closet in the corner of the room. “We’ve got some old crutches you can use.”

  I grasp the waistband of my snow pants and yank them back on, ignoring the flash of heat that grips my knee. “No, thanks.” Dad slides an arm under my shoulder and helps me to my feet.

  Red Jacket gives a half wave. “Suit yourself. Take it easy out there.”

  I roll my eyes. Didn’t he just tell me not to ski anymore? I’m still looking at the ceiling when Dad stops so suddenly that I nearly lose my balance. “What the—”

  “Excuse me,” Dad says.

  Blake is leaning against the doorjamb just outside the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, goggles still flipped on top of his helmet. He pushes himself upright when he sees us, his gaze bouncing between me and Dad. “Cally, hey. How’s your knee?”

  Dad quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “Dad, this is Blake. He rescued me from near death.”

  His eyebrow rises even higher. It’s not like me to admit I need rescuing, especially from a guy.

  “Okay, not near death. But certain crushing from a boarder.”

  Dad’s face relaxes and he gives Blake a once-over. “Blake, thank you for saving my heart’s delight from certain board crushing.”

  Blake flushes. Dad and I have been like two peas in a pod since Mom died seven years ago, and not everyone knows how to handle our schtick. “Yes, sir. I mean, you’re welcome. I’m glad I was there.”

  Dad releases my arm and watches as I put pressure on my bum leg. Blake seems abnormally interested in my ability to balance, and while I try to play it off, Dad notices. He looks me in the eye, silently asking what I want.

  “Can I stay here? In the lodge?”

  “You need to ice your knee.”

  “I’ll get ice in the lodge.”

  “And an ice bath later.”

  I nod.

  “Do you promise to stay there? At least for today?”

  I criss-cross my finger over my chest. “I promise.”

  “Text every half hour.”

  This time I salute.

  Dad points his finger at me the way he has since the first time I rode my bike to a friend’s house when I was eight. To anyone else it looks like he’s scolding me, but really he’s projecting all the worry he’s carried with him since Mom died. He smiles at Blake before walking away, and calls over his shoulder. “Behave.” He’s said it a million times, but this is the first time I’ve blushed.

  That one little word implies so much when you’re standing next to a hottie.

  “What are you doing—”

  “Do you want to—”

  Blake and I speak at the same time and I swear my cheeks are so hot I won’t need a coat the rest of the day. I smile. “You first.”

  Blake steps closer to my side and starts to touch my arm, then hesitates. He lowers his lashes and his dimple winks at me. “I owe you a hot chocolate.”

  How did I forget that? Sophia is right. I am an idiot when it comes to boys. Guys-guys—the ones I play sports with and who first taught me to jump—I can handle. It’s this flirty-blushy-sweaty thing I’m not used to.

  I link my arm through his. “This better be some damn good hot chocolate. That ride was beyond shameful.” He laughs, pulling my arm tighter against his body, and my heart pitter-patters.

  It actually pitter-patters.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Are you sure you can wal
k?”

  I shrug. “We’re about to find out.” But when I put pressure on it I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from yelping.

  Slope Rule #2: Never let them see that you’re hurt.

  My heroics don’t go unnoticed. He disentangles his arm from mine, steps in front of me, and squats.

  “What are you—”

  “Let me carry you.”

  I take a step back. Well, really, I waddle backwards, but the result is the same.

  “Cally, I won’t stop pestering you until I know you’re safe inside the lodge.”

  The smile falls from my face. I don’t move.

  He looks up at me and his face grows serious. “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head, trying to ignore the sinking feeling sliding around my heart. Of course he’s just being nice. If I saw someone biff it after landing on their head, I’d probably stick around to make sure they don’t need to go to the hospital, too. But that doesn’t mean he’s interested in me. Guys don’t see me that way.

  “Did you change your mind about the hot chocolate?” His eyebrows furrow, making his blue eyes seem darker.

  “No, I just... I’m sure you need to get back to your friends.”

  He turns toward the mountain and shields his face with his hand. “They seem fine.”

  A laugh escapes me. “You can’t even see them.”

  He raises a shoulder. “Don’t need to. So, hot chocolate?”

  Fourteen different replies get jammed up in my throat. I choose one that I hope is flirty enough to get Sophia’s approval. “How can I resist a guy willing to throw out his back for me?”

  Blake locks eyes with me, lips parted, then he smiles so big it’s like the sun’s bouncing off his teeth—one of which is perfectly non-perfect, chipped just enough to give him character—and I have to blink to stop myself from staring. “Come on.” He resumes his squat and I hesitate before wrapping an arm around his neck. He puts one arm behind my back and slides the other beneath my knees, and in one motion I’m in the air, not quite sure how I ended up in the arms of this gorgeous guy who I’ve known for barely half an hour.