The Slope Rules Read online

  I watch her sashay down the hall, more confused than I was when Blake ignored me.

  As part of initiation I have to go out with a Mogul.

  My phone rings and Sophia’s face fills the screen.

  I smile.

  “Initiation?” Sophia’s mouth hangs open.

  “To be a Snow Bunny.”

  “Snow Bunny.” Her mouth opens wider.

  I give myself bunny ears and waggle my brows.

  “And what the hell is a Mogul?”

  “Close your mouth before you swallow your phone.”

  “You are in Pleasantville!”

  “Moguls are the rich ski boys. Or boarders. Apparently I’m only allowed to date them. Guys like Blake are considered beneath me.”

  “What does Blake have to do with this?”

  In an effort to keep my head above water and not sink back into the semi-depression I went through when Blake first stopped texting, I sort of pushed the fact that HE’S IN MY ENGLISH CLASS, and oh yeah, MY NEW SCHOOL, out of my head. And while I know I shouldn’t keep things from my best friend, I hadn’t planned on telling her until I’d had time to wrap my brain around the fact that I’M GOING TO BLAKE’S SCHOOL.

  I sigh.

  “Cal?”

  “You ready for this?” I tell her about English class and him being weird in the hallway. Sophia’s eyes get wider and wider as I talk. “And that’s when Brianna made me swear a blood oath to join her gang.”

  “What the hell crazy-ass town did your dad drag you to?”

  “I thought I was off to a good start meeting Evan last week, but I can’t figure out why the rich girls have adopted me as their new plaything.”

  “Evan’s cute, right?”

  “If you like beautiful skin, clear green eyes, gorgeous smile, all in a six-foot tall package...”

  “Ooh, tell me more about his package.”

  I snort.

  “So maybe this gang thing isn’t all bad. At least until you’ve made more friends.”

  “You want me to swear a blood oath?!”

  She stops smiling. “Wait, there’s really a blood oath?”

  I wink.

  “You brat.”

  “I’ll remember you said that when I become a Mogul Bunny.”

  “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

  My phone buzzes with a text from Dad.

  “Soph, I gotta go. Time for dinner.”

  “Pee monster’s growling anyways.”

  I snort. “God, I miss you.”

  “Love you!”

  I stare at my phone, not wanting the conversation to be over. It felt good to talk like normal after worrying all day about saying the wrong thing and casting myself as a freak on my first day of school.

  Something niggles the back of my mind, and I scroll through my contacts to Blake’s name. When we met over Thanksgiving, he put his number in my phone and saved it under his name so I never actually looked at the number. Not like I knew the area code for Colorado or Lake Tahoe, but he made sure I wouldn’t look. I tap his name and the number pops up.

  303.

  Colorado.

  ***

  By the end of the week, I’m remembering people’s names and don’t feel as lost as I did on the first day, but I can’t stop wondering why Blake lied. What difference did it make if he lived here or in Colorado? If he was worried about me wanting a relationship, he already knew I lived in Vermont. But he stopped texting when I told him I was moving here. So maybe that was it. He only wanted something over vacation and when he found out I was coming here, he didn’t know how to tell me that I didn’t mean anything to him.

  And the tears are back. I swore I was done crying over Blake, but this new realization stings worse than those first days of silence because back then I thought I’d never have to see him again. Now I have to get over him knowing I could run into him when I least expect it.

  “You okay?” Mike nudges my arm. It’s Saturday morning and we’re in the back of Brianna’s 4Runner on our way to Eldora. I wipe the corners of my eyes with my fingers, expecting her to roll her eyes or say something snotty, but she looks at me with concern.

  “Yeah, I guess I just miss my friends back home, you know?”

  “I get it. I moved here in sixth grade and it took a while to get used to... things.” She glances at the front seat but I can’t tell if she means Brianna and Kenzie, or Boulder in general.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Brianna’s voice is light, but I catch her watching us in the rearview mirror.

  Mike laughs. “Just how awesome our new outfits are!”

  I raise an eyebrow, afraid to ask. “Outfits?”

  Kenzie looks over her shoulder at me and grins. “You’ll see.”

  Brianna smiles. “The guys are gonna love ‘em.”

  “Do you all ski together?” I ask. Back home, Hunter, Sam, and I usually stuck together on the terrain park, but every so often I’d break off on my own to fly as fast as I could down the mountain. They could spend hours perfecting a trick but I’m a well-rounded adrenaline junkie—I like speed and aerials.

  Brianna’s still watching me in the mirror. “We meet up with them in the lodge once they’re done throwing themselves in the air.” She rolls her eyes and I decide now’s not the time to mention that’s what I plan on doing, too.

  When we get to Eldora, we bypass Pleasantville and stumble head-first into future Stepford Wives of America. Forget Future Models, these girls are full-on crazy pants. They prance out of the locker rooms in matching non-matching outfits: form-fitting ski jackets—each in a different bright color—with tight-fitted pants that show enough of their bums to get attention, plus headbands, goggles, and matching ponytails. Brianna’s smile fades when she sees my navy blue snowboarding pants and jacket. The lime green racing stripe hardly compares to her neon-pink ensemble.

  “I won’t lose you, that’s for sure.”

  She eyes the helmet looped over my arm. “A helmet? Seriously?”

  I shrug. “You don’t?”

  She lifts a shoulder and rolls her eyes at Kenzie. “We don’t fall.”

  I can’t tell if the attitude is directed at me or the world in general, but I’m too excited to ski to worry about what’s going on inside Brianna’s head.

  Once we’re strapped into our skis—I’m shocked they haven’t color-coordinated those—I trail behind them to the chairlift. Eldora isn’t as big as the other resorts surrounding Denver, but the powder is just as good. Brianna and Kenzie pair off for the chairlift so I wait next to Mike. The chair swings around, scooping them up, and we slide into position. As soon as we’re in the air and out of earshot of Brianna, I take a deep breath.

  “So what’s with the outfits?”

  Mike’s is bright blue. She rolls her eyes and lets out a small laugh. “Don’t let Bri hear you say that.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Maybe they’re not as Stepford as I thought. “So the Queen Bee dictator thing isn’t an act?”

  Mike runs her gloved hand over the bar holding us into the chairlift. “She’s one-hundred percent diva.”

  “Why do you put up with it?” The few times I’ve talked to Mike she seems nice, normal. Very unlike Brianna.

  “Like I said before, it took a while for me to make friends when I first moved here. Middle school was a fresh start and for whatever reason, Bri latched onto me. I’ve been friends with her and Kenzie ever since.”

  “But...” I hesitate. I’m not even sure I want to be friends with these girls, but I don’t want to make enemies after my first week. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but it doesn’t seem like you like her that much.”

  She shrugs. “What am I supposed to do? Bri doesn’t let people go. If I don’t do what she says, she’ll destroy
me. The rest of high school will be torture.”

  Following Brianna around for two and a half more years sounds like torture. “She’s like your pimp, except she’s not forcing you to sleep with anyone.”

  Mike quirks an eyebrow.

  “What?! I was kidding!” My shriek echoes off the mountain and Brianna and Kenzie look back at us. We wave, fake smiles plastered to our faces.

  Mike laughs. “Not sex, but she pushes her opinion about who I should or shouldn’t date.”

  “So it’s like a prostitution ring without the prostitution.”

  “Ha, a little.”

  “Mike, that blows.”

  The top of the mountain arrives too soon and we’re swooshing down the ramp to where Brianna and Kenzie are waiting.

  Brianna adjusts her goggles. “It’s no Switzerland, but it’ll have to do until spring break. Ready girls?” Without waiting for an answer, she pushes over the lip of the hill and carves a perfect arc across the powder.

  Kenzie and Mike follow, their movements mirror images of Brianna. The three of them curve gracefully around a bend, their neon outfits glowing against the snow like that stupid tracker they use on TV to help spectators who can’t track a ball or puck.

  I adjust my goggles, push off with my poles, and lower into a tuck. My first love is moguls but flying downhill as fast as I can is a close second. I catch up to them at the next bend and shift my lower body to slow down.

  “There you are.” Brianna smiles. “I was worried this hill was too much for you.”

  I bite back a snotty comment. Be nice, be nice, be nice. “Just admiring the view.”

  She tosses a glance over her shoulder. “Try to keep up!” She crouches into what I guess she thinks is a tuck and goes a little faster down the hill. The girls mimic her and I feel like I’m trailing after a psychedelic rainbow.

  “Try to keep up. Are you kidding me?” I resist the very strong urge to whip past them, instead hitting the brakes every few turns to keep from plowing them over.

  When we reach the bottom they glide into line for the same chairlift.

  “Do you want to check out any other runs?” Like maybe something with some jumps or a double in the name?

  Brianna flips up her goggles and levels her perfectly mascaraed gaze at me. “We do Hornblower and International first, then take a break in the lodge, then we go to Powderhorn and Sunset.” The other girls giggle.

  Okay, then.

  I ride next to Mike again, but she’s quiet this time.

  I nudge her with my elbow. The fabric makes a rustling noise. “Hey, I’d never repeat what you said.”

  She studies me. “Thanks.”

  “You’re the first normal person I’ve talked to. Why would I want to piss you off?” Her lips curl into a smile and I laugh. “But that doesn’t mean I’m following her around all day.”

  After two more runs I’m itching to find more difficult terrain. I don’t want to ditch them, especially Mike, who seems pretty cool, but when a little girl points at us and squeals, “Pretty!” I decide I’ve had enough of the 80s vacation brochure.

  “Hey, Mike, I’ll catch up to you later.”

  She glances at Brianna as if to see if she heard me, then gives me a sad smile. “See ya.”

  I push down the seed of guilt that blooms in my chest and cut down a narrow trail to the right. The canopy of trees block out the light and for a moment I’m transported to my last day with Blake. The guilt over leaving Mike hardens into a lump in my throat. I stop along the edge of the trail and push up my goggles. Tears burn my eyes, making it hard to see.

  Slope Rule #5: There’s no crying in skiing.

  Sure, Tom Hanks said that about baseball, but blurry eyes can mean a broken neck when you’re flying over the hard-pack. Especially if you’re inverted.

  I yank off my glove and wipe my eyes. A group of snowboarders races past but no one looks back at me. A breeze rustles the trees high above me, filling the air with snow. I lift my face, eyes closed, and take a deep breath as another pack of boarders zooms by.

  I run my hand over my head to try to push Blake out of my mind, then snap my goggles back in place.

  A solo boarder coasts by.

  This must be the right direction.

  I race after the gray figure, feeling lighter in my boots. We round a bend and burst out of the trees and it’s like the heavens open up and angels are playing their harps because there, finally, is the terrain park.

  A boarder in bright yellow glides up the incline of the halfpipe, then crouches into a jump, grabbing the back of his board as he soars ten feet over the lip. His arms extend as the board reconnects with the snow, then he repeats the same maneuver on the opposite side. Over and over until the end of the run.

  Beyond the tube, pipes and walls and a couple fun boxes jut out of the hill, the snow around them spray-painted bright blue to keep people from accidentally slamming into the obstacles. Everywhere I look, boarders are twisting and flipping and landing on their asses.

  Heaven.

  I skate to the crest of the hill. There doesn’t seem to be skiers here, but I’ve never let that stop me. A couple of younger kids are waiting their turn at the top of the big jumps, so I slide behind them.

  One boy looks at my skis, then lifts his gaze, doubt clear on his face.

  I scowl at him—I’d glare but it loses its effect through my goggles—and sneer at his board.

  His friend wipes out on the first jump and I swallow a laugh. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?”

  He rolls his eyes and hops forward to gain momentum down the hill. To his credit, he lands the jump—if you can call six inches a jump—and pumps his fist in the air.

  My cue to go.

  My knee is healed from the fall over Thanksgiving, but I haven’t hit any real jumps since then so I need to take the first couple slow.

  Slow, Cally.

  Take it easy.

  I laugh. Who am I kidding?

  I soar past the boys, who are camped on the side of the hill, no doubt anxious to watch a chick skier bite it on the jumps. I resist the urge to flip them off and concentrate on staying loose when I land.

  By the time I reach the bottom, my adrenaline’s so jacked my heart’s practically thumping out of my chest.

  “Nice air.”

  I turn around. A girl my age in head-to-toe gray gives me a thumbs up. She’s already got her back foot unstrapped from her snowboard and is shuffling toward the chairlift.

  I join her in line. “Thanks.”

  “Not many skiers over here. Especially—”

  “Girls?” I laugh, and she smiles.

  “Yeah. But it’s cool.” The chair swings around and we lean back as it lifts us into the air. “I’m Amber.”

  “Cally.”

  “You new around here? I spend most of my time on this run and I’ve never seen you before.”

  I lean over to watch a boarder do a three-sixty off the second jump. “This is my fist time. We moved here a couple weeks ago from Vermont.”

  “Welcome to Colorado, Cally from Vermont.”

  Something in her tone makes me question if she’s actually being nice, but when I meet her gaze, she’s smiling. I shake my head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just...” I shake my head again. “I’m terrible at meeting new people.” I’ve already spent too much time with Brianna if I’m doubting the sincerity of every person I meet.

  Another boarder sails through the air alongside us and I bounce in my seat. The chair can’t get to the top soon enough.

  We slide down the ramp and turn toward the top of the run. While she clamps her boots into her board, I toss my poles against a rack and scan the terrain. I can ride the rails and table, but my body’s itching to get some serious air. If Amber thought my pl
ain-Jane jumps were impressive, wait until she sees me flip.

  She stands and brushes snow off her butt. “Ready?”

  I nod at the jumps. “After you.”

  “Okay, but don’t go ‘til I’m at the bottom.”

  “Deal.”

  She takes the first jump pretty safe—a one-eighty with her hand on the back of the board—but the next two are so high even the other boarders stop to watch.

  Adrenaline pumps through me. It’s not the same as a true competition, but it’s close.

  I hop over the edge and tuck low to gain speed. As my skis cross the blue spray paint marking the lip of the first jump, I push from my crouch, twisting my torso. I complete a full rotation seconds before hitting the ground and bend my knees to cushion the impact.

  The next jump is already here.

  I crouch again, but this time when I push off I bend my knees so my skis are vertical behind me and grab my bindings with one hand, the other straight out to keep me balanced.

  I’ve barely made contact with the ground when I’m soaring up the third ramp. I push up with my legs and arch my back, keeping my legs straight as they flip over my head. Snow is replaced with blue sky, then very quickly snow again. I brace for the landing, arms extended to the sides. I come to a sharp stop next to Amber, whose mouth is hanging open.

  I can’t wipe the grin off my face. “That felt good.”

  “I’ll say.” She laughs and shakes her head. “We’re gonna have fun today.”

  Slope Rule #6: A little confidence can go a long way.

  We spend the next hour flipping and twisting and trying to one-up each other, and by the time we head into the lodge for a break I’m so happy I feel like I’m still flying through the air. We grab a couple sports drinks from a cooler and find a table.

  I twist off the cap and take a long drink. “You on your school’s team?”

  “Me? Nah. Too much political BS involved. Besides,” the corner of her mouth turns up in a smile, “I don’t do well following orders. What about you?”

  My light mood cracks ever-so-slightly. “I was. Back home. But I missed tryouts here and the team is already set.” Tears threaten and I take another drink to hide them. I wish I didn’t care so much, but I do.